During Sunday School time this morning, I was close to tears.  I felt utterly defeated. 

You see, my dear sweet boy was having “a morning.”  One of those where he can’t stop moving.  Where sitting on a chair is totally impossible.  Where volume level cannot be controlled.  Where pressure is needed in the form of what looks like a headlock.  When picked up from a “wet noodle” pile off of the floor, the hitting and yelling begins.  Where Mama just can’t anymore and carries the restless body to an empty room down the hall.


This mama closes the door.  Lets down the sack of wiggles.  Prays for patience, wisdom, and strength.  Prays for forgiveness — because the doubt of this ordeal routine being really worth it has crossed her mind more than once this morning.  Prays that next week will be better.  Yet, if not, tries to figure out a plan for not rewarding this behavior, but making it a Sunday School experience (even if this time has to be spent away from the actual classroom).  Tries to remember that even if it doesn’t look like this logo-drawing boy is listening, he still hears what is being said.

Remembering that even if I feel defeated, God has the power to still grow faith through these frustrating moments.  God works in ways that I will never fully understand.  This is still worth it.

So, I read the Bible lesson to him.  Twice.  Knowing that he can still hear me through his excessively loud humming.  Starting to realize that this is not defeat, but an opportunity.

Being prepared to do it again next week, if that is what’s needed.