Control in the Headquarters

I recently saw the movie Inside Out.  What an incredibly clever flick!  For those who haven't had the opportunity, it's essentially about a young girl named Riley who is uprooted and moves to a new city. Her emotions; Anger, Sadness, Disgust, Fear, and (her most prominent emotion) Joy, start to disagree on how to deal with the dramatic change, which causes problems up in "Headquarters," the working space for the five emotions.

Post movie, I couldn't help but wonder about the controllers in the headquarters of each of my  kiddos.  Who's primarily in control?

My middle kid tends to be controlled by Joy.  We're at the beach this week and I watched him as he sat on the sand, celebrated the wonder of the sand, praised the name of the sand, and finally covered himself from head to toe....with the sand.  Ridiculous, I tell you, how one can find joy in gathering sand down one's pants, but this is my son; the one who breaks out in song when I tell him he can have Mac and Cheese for dinner.

My oldest is generally controlled by disgust.  OK, this is so not a put down.  Really.  She's a teenage girl, for heaven's sake.  And for those who have seen the movie, you know what I mean.  And I'll say that her controlling emotion can be helpful at times.  When clothes shopping recently, for example, I got an eye roll at the "awful and terrible" shirt that I was about to try on.  And so I thanked her, profusely.  I told her I'd shout from the mountain top just HOW GRATEFUL I AM THAT SHE SAVED ME from purchasing an "awful and terrible" shirt.  And at that point she practically turned green with disgust.  But then she picked out a "better" shirt for me and all were happy campers.   Yup.  It's great having a teenage girl.

And then there is my youngest.  By her own admittance she tends to be controlled "by the red guy."  And...that guy would be anger.  I don't know why in the world she would say this.  I mean, my eldest only has a few scratch marks from when she told my youngest it was time to go to bed whilst babysitting.  And no one would think the red guy was front and center by her reaction to the command to "eat the greens."  She only lay prostrate banging fists on the ground for five minutes, certainly not ten.  Because that would just be ridiculous.  And don't be fooled by her size.  Though I can practically touch my finger to my thumb around her leg, she can pounce on her brother like nothing I've seen when he breaks out in his operatic voice over mac and cheese.   I have to admit:  I kinda want to pounce him when I hear that voice too.

Man, parenting is fun.

What's most compelling to me is the fact that I cannot control who God has made my kids to be.  I can't make them have certain reactions and emotions.  And, unfortunately, I can't make them fall asleep when I want them to (And trust me, my husband and I have tried every possible way from the day they were born to control this area of parenting.  I may or may not have told my youngest the other night that if she fell asleep in the next five minutes, I would give her M & M's with her breakfast.  Um, the M & M's failed me). As much as I want my eldest to jump through the roof when I give her a gift, that is just not who she is.  And as much as I want my son to simply say "thanks" for the mac and cheese and avoid the operatic singing, that is just not who he is.

Of course we guide them, teach them, and do what we can to help them understand the Truth, but as hard as I may try, I cannot control them.  That's God's job.  He's the potter and we are the clay.  No threat of discipline or look on my face can change the hearts of my kids.  The reality is that God is very much in control in their "headquarters," their hearts, and the more I try to do what I simply don't have the power to do, the further I leave the door open to discouragement and frustration.  And the beauty of it all is that God uses our kids to refine and transform us.  Each exhausting day filled with sleepless infants, toddler messes, confusing teens, worrisome behavior and singing over mac and cheese is refinement by God in our own hearts.

My youngest spent thirty minutes last night asking her dad a series of questions.  I was so intrigued by the interrogation between my daughter and her father that I began writing down the questions she asked.   Here they are in order:

1.  How come Adam and Eve didn't listen to God?
2.  Why doesn't God just save everyone?
3.  Why do people care more about the outside then the inside?
4.  Are you saying that hell is forever?
5.  Does God make mistakes?
6.  What if someone knows God but then doesn't love him anymore?
7.  Do people go to heaven if they give up on God?
8.  What happens if I keep on sinning?  Because, Dad, I'm just gonna keep on sinning.
9.   Can people have church in their home?
10. How come God died on a cross and not some other way?
11. Who makes us sin?
12. Who's in charge of hell?
13. Does God control me or do I control myself?
14. How long till we get home?
15. Can I have some M & M's?

So, she's seven, folks.

And may God grant patience to her Sunday school teachers.

My husband suggested she uses this for her night time reading:

She wanted to, but I advised Flat Stanley instead.

This is what's going on in my kids mind right now.  Her headquarters are working over time, trying to understand the intricacies of faith and theology.  So many questions that have less than satisfactory answers for her....for me.  It's during moments like these that I'm desperately thankful that God is in control of her little heart because I, for one, cannot articulately explain apostasy and the problem of evil in the world.  For the love, Lily Joy.

Being at the beach has made me reflect on my own parents and the blood, sweat, and (many) tears over parenting me as a child and teen.  We've come to the same vacation spot for twenty-six years and this is the first year without at least one of my parents.  And I know my mom wanted to be here with us.  I know how badly she wanted to feel the sand under her feet.  I know how much she wanted to watch the kids play in the water and hear the waves crash on the shore.  So, when I tried to calm her over the phone while she was in an agitated state, I told her to just listen to the waves.  And I sat there in the sand with my arm extended so that she could hear the crash of the waves.  With tears streaming down my face, I thanked God for my momma and her parenting.  She wasn't perfect, but she did her best.

And I'm thankful that as a momma myself that's what I'm called to do.  I can't control or create, but I can do my best and trust in God.  Because thankfully, He's in control.