Time Out

Libi is our four year old who we adopted from China last November.  I’m amazed at how well she’s picked up our language and culture in such a short time.  She loves french fries from McDonalds more than just about anything.  She loves to run and play and squeal – noises that no male is capable of producing.  She likes to chase and be chased, to be caught by her daddy and tickled mercilessly.  She’s a typical four year old, complete with the tantrums and illogical responses.  I just don’t remember this level of opposition from our other children, though the next oldest is 17.  Since I can’t remember what happened last week, I’m not surprised that I have blocked out such memories.

Yesterday I was hanging with Libi and her younger sister, Gabby.  We were having a great time, until we weren’t.  I’m not sure exactly what triggered it, but all of a sudden I had a little monster on my hands.  (I must admit to having the thought at times, “Perhaps this is why some species eat their young.”)  She was belligerent, loud and antagonistic.  Ok, she was just having a four year old moment.  But it was clear that I needed to nip that in the bud before it became the pattern for the day.  So, I sent her to her little time out mat in the living room.  As I followed her into the room to set the timer, she went to sit 10 feet away from the mat.  Of course, I told her to move.  She gave me all the angst and attitude that her cute little face could muster, but she moved.  I set the timer for four minutes (I can’t remember, was that one minute or one hour for each year of life?).  As the minutes ticked away, I found myself thinking that life would be so much better if she wasn’t such a control freak.  If she could just trust that her Mom and I have her best interests in mind and relax under our leadership, life would be so much easier for her and us.

This morning I got to thinking a lot about that time out, and especially my thoughts about her need for control and her difficulty in trusting us.  It made me sad thinking that maybe she’ll never really trust us.  Maybe her background in an orphanage predestined her to such an attitude towards her new parents, who just want to love her with all that we have.  But then a very clear question came to mind.  Am I really any different?  God loves me with all that He has.  Life would be so much easier if I could just trust that He has my best interests in mind and relaxed under His leadership.  Perhaps it’s me that is the control freak.  Maybe God feels the same sadness as I struggle and fight His attempts to bring me His best for my life.  I wonder if it makes Him sad.

It’s pretty unsettling to find that there’s still a lot of four year old in me.  I guess I’m the one who needs a time out after all.

Sorry, Daddy.