One Million Words.

Ezra told me today, while we were wandering slow-like through the air conditioned mall, that it would take, like, at least one million words to thank God for my love.

The tears sprung to my eyes and I dropped weak to his eye level and asked him to say it again. My heart was hungry for this moment, and I immediately recognized that this hunt for gratitude that I have been on lately has not gone unnoticed by watchful eyes. He has been watching me watch for thankfulness.

The very night before, I had stayed up too late crying out to my husband that I felt like I had “missed the mark” with Ezra somehow. Me and him, we just rub wrong most days. And it feels as if it has always been this way, this feeling of different frequencies. And last night, it all came rushing out- forced upwards by the hard lump in my throat. All my despair over how to parent this child rushed out and pooled onto my pillow. Why do we have such a hard time getting along? Coexisting? Why do we rub so wrong until anger is quick and hearts feel hardened? Why do I feel so suffocated and he so suffocated and where did all the air in this house go to?

I spilled it out. He’s a good boy. A GREAT boy. He needs soooo much of my attention, which is a little busy being scattered around the house like stray legos most days. When I try to give that attention, we rub. We fight. We retreat. When I don’t make time for the attention, he pesters. We rub. We fight. We retreat.

I had gotten to a place where I was retreating from my own son, just so we could survive, and suddenly, last night, I recognized this truth and it hit me like a freight train.

Does he know that I love him? That I like him?

And what kind of a mother sits up in bed late at night and has to ask herself these things?

My husband soothed. ALL mothers had felt such things, he was certain. In the darkest places where we feel alone- all hunched and monsterly- even there, we are never alone. All it takes is shedding a little light in those caverns to see that there is actually a general assembly of us down there, all under the false assumption that we are isolated cast-aways. The darkness makes us blind.

After the wave of hopelessness gushed out of me, we started to fill it back up with truth. Chris prayed. I prayed. We prayed. Give us a breakthrough with Ezra, Lord! Use this to sharpen my character! Use me to drench him in unwavering love, safe! Help us love well!

Not even 12 hours later, in the middle of a bustling mall, these words fall soft from Ezra’s lips. They were handcrafted answers to my prayers. Balm for a frazzled, frustrated heart that wants nothing more than for her child to know he is loved… more than one million words could ever even begin to express.

Today, I am thankful that God is real. And that He hears the deepest cries of my heart.

27 thoughts on “One Million Words.

  1. This is beautiful…I don't really know what else to say! Thank you for sharing this. I hope that you realize how God uses you, and this “place” where you share, to encourage and bring clarity to others. I have come here many times and heard God speaking to me through your words (His words :) Beautiful words…

  2. Emery, this is beautiful. I am a long-time reader, but I think this is my first comment. I couldn't leave your page without praising God for answering your prayer. Isn't He so wonderful and loving?! I am newly married and as my husband and I talk about children I fear that I won't have the amazing relationship with my kids that I had with my mother. It frightens me. But your words give me hope because we worship an amazing and compassionate Lord. Thank you :)

  3. Wow Emery. This is powerful and beautiful. Made me cry. What a sweet example of Gods response to a mothers deep heart cry. God has been answering many Of your prayers recently and I love reading about it!

  4. Such a tear jerker! God does amazing things in families, doesn't he? It's so encouraging to read a story like this. Thank you for sharing it!

  5. When I finished reading, I thought to myself, “This is so beautiful, I just have to tell her!” But everyone else has already used that very word – beautiful. Praise God!

  6. Oh my goodness. What you described is EXACTLY how I feel with my son. And yes, I thought I was one of the very very few (and how unfortunate) to feel this way. Thanks for reinforcing the answer (He is ALWAYS the answer).

  7. WOW…you are NOT alone!!! Is he your oldest? I feel that way with my eldest!!! I so relate to you! I am the mother of 2 boys and a 3rd boy on the way!!!!!!!
    My first born is 8 and he always throws me…we rub, I feel like I miss the mark with him always and I always feel guilty…and then in his own way, he'll re assure me as your Ezra di…and it has so much depth and weight!
    Thanks for your time and effort blogging, cause I like it and you help me;)

  8. this was beautiful and it made me cry.
    I'm so thankful your hungry, hurting mother-heart got exactly what it needed.

    you know, every time I read one of your posts, I can't help but think that you are like a voice for mothers everywhere. I could read your words for days and never stop feeling like you're capturing my heart-thoughts and putting them into beautiful words. Such a gift, Emery. The Lord has blessed you. :)

  9. So beautiful, so real, so inspiring. Breaks my heart in a good way, in an honest way. “God is real, and He hears the deepest cries of my heart”–Yes, yes, yes!

  10. Tears are rolling down my cheeks at your words. I feel the same way with my oldest child too, my daughter. I often think that the reasons that we rub are because we are so alike that our stubborness is too much. My son, who is my husband through and through, and I don't seem to have these problems…yet.
    Thank you for your touching words and for letting us know that we are not alone. In motherhood or in life.

  11. Oh my gosh…I am tearing up right now…that is soooo precious. One…that he said that and two that the Lord heard you and ministered to your heart through your son…PRECIOUS!!!

  12. beautiful sister. So true. You just gospled those lies the heck out!
    amazing HOW God answers our prayers!

  13. I completely relate – my middle child and I are this way too. So lovely and tender the way God answered your prayer. He's good like that, though ;)

  14. Amazing, Em. Really. My face is drenched right now. God does love us so much and our kids DO see and hear how we try to have thankful hearts. Thanks for the reminder. Praise God!

  15. i am so thankful that you open up and share yourself with us. i have felt this way with my oldest and was sure i was the only one. he gets on my nerves so quickly and then i feel so guilty for feeling annoyed with him – because he too, is so good. and what kind of mother am i that i have such a good kid but feel annoyed with him? so hearing your story, your words, brings comfort and hope. and i will echo what everyone else has been saying, beautiful. God is so good.

  16. i am sitting here at work literally weeping. How are you able to write so beautifully? This really just makes me cry. What an awesome thing. I loved it. (PS i suck at writing.)

  17. Love this post. You continually remind me how worthwhile this mommy work is.
    Also…BANANA…(we LOVE Gerald and Piggie)

leave a comment!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s