When You Have "That Kid"...

Well, it was another day filled with phone calls, emails and incident reports... Yep, that good.

I will spare you the details, but they weren't great.

As we lay in our bed that evening talking I finally said it. I have been thinking it for some time but have never voiced it. I had considered it many a time but was afraid of what my husband might think. But on that night, the gloves came off and the words came flying out of my mouth...

"Why do we have "that kid"?"

You see, this has been a long time coming. Being the parents to "that kid" is not a new thing. We have been feeling this for years. In fact it is something that we have to battle against daily. We have received stares and judgmental glances, had parenting books dropped at our doorstep, been the recipients of much unwanted parenting advice from well-meaning individuals, felt uncomfortable at many a happy gathering, and have even been asked to leave a church because of "that kid".

Yet if you could see his heart, you may just melt.

Like the time when he was four. I was standing in the kitchen window just to glance up and see him running across the driveway to tackle his younger sister. I was instantly infuriated and flew out the door. Somehow Christ slowed me down and I was able to look at him and say, "Buddy, why did you just tackle your sister?"

I will never forget his response...

He looked at me and said, "Momma, sister was heading towards the road and I stopped her. I didn't want her to die today."

I was so quick to judge his external actions as mean and malicious. Yet his heart was spot on.

Or maybe the time when he spent a week making this stellar gift for someone he thought was the cream of the crop. He tried idea after idea just to settle on "the perfect" one. He worked meticulously on it. Then with the greatest care, he wrapped it and cared for it until it was time to deliver it. You could see his heart swelling and his chest puffing as he handed over his finely crafted creation. Within seconds the gift had been discarded. And within minutes he was into a full blown tizzy.

I knew why. His heart had just been broken.

From the outside it looked like a spoiled brat just wanting attention. But from my vantage point, my heart was breaking too. As I choked back tears, we quickly collected our children and made our exit just to hang our heads again as the parents of "that kid".

I have been wrestling with this question for some time, but have never had the courage to speak it. It has rolled around in my head time and time again, but fear has kept it there. Until now. Until misunderstanding after misunderstanding and incident report after incident report pushed me over the edge, and I said it.

"Why do we have "that kid"?"

And just as quickly as the words escaped my mouth my Father God whispered straight into my being:

"I get it. I get what it is to have a Son that is so misunderstood. Whose heart is often kinder and purer than what people give Him credit for. I even get what it is to have those you thought would be the most loving and accepting of Him reject Him. I get it. And it hurts. But that doesn't make Him what they say He is. He is still who I created Him to be."

Peace and humility swept over me and a new sadness filled me.

Okay, I can do this.

I can be the Mom of "that kid". I can live with that.

But what about him. How does one walk through life being so misunderstood? How will he survive having such a kind and tender heart in a world that thinks the worst of others? How long will it be before he grasps that not everyone loves as big as he does?

And then it was as if the conversation shifted and it was Christ whispering straight to my heart:

"I get it. I get what it is to be rejected. I get what it is to be misunderstood. I get what it is to have my motives and my actions questioned. I get what it is like to have even my closest family misunderstand. I am not who they say I am. I am who my Father says I am, and I will still love big, even when it kills me."

Tears still flow as I type these words.

Isn't He the most tender thing you have ever encountered?