‘Tis the Season

The other morning, after Squirts ate his breakfast, I set his clothes out and told him it was time to get dressed while I went to get ready for the day. About 30 minutes later, I returned to the living room and – Squirts was dressed. Shirt, underwear, shorts and socks! Hallelujah!

Don’t get me wrong. This isn’t the first time that’s happened. But no matter how many times it does, I’m still haunted by the days we battled to get the boy dressed every day. Here’s how the playback of those days runs on the screen in my mind, backed by the flashing lights and music of the Little Einstein’s:

While the child is distracted by educational TV, we strategically lay out a clean set of clothes for easy reach; then with ninja-like agility, dad makes a sneak attack from behind sweeping the child from his feet and pinning him to the floor; mom swoops in and deftly removes the pajama bottoms with one hand while reaching for the clean underwear and pants with the other; with little more than a look, parents make a tag team reversal and mom pins the boy while dad quickly replaces the pajama top with a crisp, clean t-shirt; with a high-five and a “Hoo Ya” the child is dressed and released.

Of course, because he has two smart parents, Squirts wore a lot of sandals in those days, thus eliminating the need for the dangerous sock maneuver.

Happily, those days have passed (that’s the sound of me knocking on wood). Now, we can expect Squirts to get himself dressed with little-to-no resistance. When we ask and return to the room, there’s almost always some level of dressing completed. So, sometimes the shirt might not be on or might be on backwards. Or in the process, the socks might have gotten lost somewhere in the couch. Or the shorts aren’t buttoned and zipped. But the effort is there.

When I returned to find Squirts fully dressed the other morning, I literally had a flashback to those shock-and-awe days of the past. And suddenly, I couldn’t remember when it changed. When did we go from battle of the century every morning to a fairly compliant routine?

That’s not my first experience with that kind of question in the short four (and-a-half) years I’ve been a parent. So many of the challenges of parenting feel like they will never end, and then suddenly, we’ve moved on to a new challenge. One season – of diapers, bottles, potty training, day care struggles, cold after cold – passes, and without even realizing it, we’re on to the next.

Life is filled with seasons – those periods of living we either hope will never end or for which we pray a hasty conclusion. Often, we don’t recognize the seasons we’re in until they’ve passed. But when we look back, we can more easily see them for what they were: times of highs or lows that led us to where we stand today.

It helps me to remember that life is filled with seasons (though truthfully, I usually forget). When I look back and see that neither the best of times nor the worst of times in my life lasted forever, I am reminded that the same will be true today. Accepting that every phase of life has both a beginning and an end can be liberating. During the best of times, we are freed to appreciate the moment. During the worst of times, we are reassured that better times lie ahead.

It also opens us to see God at work in every season of our lives.

You would think that the easiest place to see God working would be during the good times. But so often, it’s during the good times that our relationship with God grows the most distant. Maybe, we start to believe in ourselves a little too much. “Hey, look at all this good stuff going on in my life. I must be one smart, good-looking, sweet talking dude for my life to be this good!”

Until splat. We hit that wall and cry out, “God, help me!”

Ironically, the seasons of brokenness and despair seem to be the points at which we draw closer to God. When we have nowhere else to turn, we remember the God of omnipresent power and love who waits patiently during our moments of triumph and carries us through our valleys of despair.

One verse from my favorite Psalm reminds me that no matter where I find myself, God is there.

If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
if I make my bed in the depths,  you are there. (Psalm 139:8)

Recognizing the ebb and flow of life’s phases reminds us to praise God’s triumphant presence in the good times and to rely on God’s comforting role in the bad.

So, when Squirts responds to a request for action with, “Just a minute” or “I just need to _______” (fill in the blank with any time wasting activity), I can say, “Give me strength God until this  phase passes.” And when Squirts wants to curl up with me on the couch, I can say “Thank you God because I know this too will not last forever.”

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