Our toddler told us tonight about the monsters in her dream; he’s big with HUGE eyes and he roars at her in her bed.
Cue my husband and I desperately reciting truth to her little heart while trying not to cry ourselves.
We tell her monsters aren’t real and that Daddy will keep her safe. We remind her that God is always with her. He is bigger than any pretend monster, and she can tell the monster that.
And then I watched her play in the bath, completely unphased by how upsetting her little fears are to us.
I thought a little bit about the monsters that keep me up at night.
Their eyes aren’t as big, and they don’t roar in my face, but I would be lying if I said I wasn’t up most nights, anxious over might-be, should-have-been, will-never-be circumstances and budgets and potentials and failures and conversations. They’re mostly all pretend or embellished.. and all of them have sharper teeth and a bigger wing span at night than they do in the day.
But tonight I decided that the next time the monsters enter my room I’ll think of truth, Jesus, and my brave little girl. If she can do it, so can I.
The irony of parenting my kids while learning the same lessons myself is not lost on me. I’m continually reminded that I need to grow…usually in the same ways I’m asking my two year old to grow.
But maybe that’s the purpose of parenting – the refining and reparenting of yourself in the process…
Like speaking the truth to yourself so often that they’ll know it by heart.
Or walking the thorny road before them so it’s a little more paved when they make their way through it.
And maybe even facing your own monsters to prove to them it can be done.
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