A TASTE OF HEAVEN

“That you should put away the old self of your former way of life, corrupted through deceitful desires, and be renewed in the spirit of your minds, and put on the new self, created in God’s way in righteousness and holiness of truth.” Ephesians 4:22-24

Graduation was over. The bible study was over. All that was left was my life as mother and wife and for the first few weeks it was glorious. Invigorated with purpose I felt like I was given a rope to pull me from the raging waters of insecurity, unworthiness, and pride.

Seth was a good baby. He nursed well, he slept well, and he was a calm baby. The only problem was trying to wrestle with Ryan and his pent-up energy and aggression.

On more than one occasion when I nursed Seth, Ryan came over and wanted attention too. I knew it was normal for a toddler. I didn’t mind. What troubled me was when he jumped on top of the both of us to get attention. He’d miss Seth’s fragile skull by inches with his knee. I’d scold him and at times reflexively push him away in order to save Seth from the impending crush. He would fall to the ground, wail and then bang his head on the wall or lie there and kick and scream until I put Seth down to offer him the attention he craved.

I assumed what bothered Ryan the most was the fact I held Seth close when I fed him. When I tried to hold Ryan he arched his back and pulled away as if my touch burned. Defeated, I backed away with a wounded heart. It solidified that I was not a good mother. I couldn’t find a way to love him.

One night Ryan and I reached our pinnacle. Neal escaped with his friends and I was alone with the kids. Like clockwork Seth was ready to feed so I checked in on Ryan who was playing with trains in his room. Thomas the Train played on the little television so I settled in the living room with Seth for what I expected to be an uninterrupted feeding.

Ten to fifteen minutes went by and I realized the house was blissfully quiet. Too quiet. I heard the sound of the video coming from Ryan’s room but couldn’t hear Ryan talking as he often did to the trains or making choo-choo noises. The thought crossed my mind there might be an issue. I smelled it before I could see the issue. Ryan came around the chair with his hands held out in front of him like Frankenstein, fingers spread like fans.

His fingers, hands, and wrists were caked in poop as if he’d been crafting a pottery bowl.

“Oh no.” Disgusted I jumped out of the chair which jarred Seth and stopped his feeding.

Ryan looked up at me and his eyes got wide. I ran past him and put an unhappy, wailing Seth in his crib. The trail of poop droppings led down the hall to the bathroom. Close behind, Ryan walked stiff-legged, with no pants or underwear.

He was potty-trained but we had issues with going #2. It was obvious he tried to do it on his own. A low squeal escaped when I saw what appeared to be a toxic waste explosion in the bathroom. Poop was everywhere. Little hand prints smeared along the shower curtain, swiped across the tile floor and along the base and seat of the toilet. He had also tried to wipe himself because half the roll of soiled toilet paper was bunched up around the base on the floor.

Why are you doing this to me? What have I done to you to deserve this? These selfish thoughts stormed in my head. I felt controlled, and at the same time, out of control, which triggered an irrational response. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Ryan’s soiled underwear and grabbed it. With pure disgust and anger I turned to him to shove the underwear in his face.

A firm pressure, like a hand on my arm, stopped me. Ryan’s big blue eyes stared at me with fear. My breath caught. I finally saw my child.

My child.

My flesh.

My blood.

My eyes.

My nose.

My love.

My child.

I dropped the underwear. Shame. Pure shame gutted me, and I cried out in pain. I reached for my precious son and drew him into my embrace. “I’m sorry, Ryan. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

I took him gently by the hand and cleaned him up with a wet washcloth. In the background I could hear Seth’s wails but I focused on the child in front of me.

“Jesus, help me. Jesus, help me. Jesus, help me.”

I cleaned Ryan up, put him in the tub, and went to check on my wailing baby.

I gasped at the sight of smeared spit-up all over Seth’s pinched face. His little hands were in tight fists and with each wail he flailed them around smearing the spit-up across his face. “Oh my God!” In a panic I grabbed Seth from the crib and used my shirt to wipe the spit-up off his face.

I moved in autopilot driven by shock and shame. I was shamed with myself and angry at Neal for not being with me to help. He spent more and more time with friends. In this moment I had never felt more alone.

With Seth in my arms I rushed back to Ryan who was blissfully happy playing in the tub. I turned the water off and grabbed a new washcloth from the cabinet and wet it to wash off Seth’s face and hands. His wails subsided into a whimper. I knew he was still hungry but I needed to get Ryan cleaned and out of the tub.

“Jesus, help me. Jesus, help me.” Saying those three words calmed me enough to move one step at a time. I managed to find a pacifier to soothe Seth and placed him in a bouncy seat at my feet while I washed Ryan off. The stench in the room made my eyes water. I was careful not to get near the toilet or touch the part of the shower curtain that was soiled.

Within minutes, I had Ryan bathed, dressed and safely in his room watching a Thomas the Train movie. Shame and guilt orchestrated my behavior so I stayed with Ryan in his room. I sat on Ryan’s big boy bed and nursed Seth. Ryan crawled up on the bed beside me and for the first time since Seth was born he laid still by my side without trying to push Seth off or punch him in the face. I rubbed his back with my free hand.

The shock wore off. I felt the heat of tears as they soiled my face. Thomas the Train tooted his whistle on the screen but my eyes glazed over as I recalled the rage and anger that welled up inside me in that dreadful moment. Seth finished eating and mechanically I burped him. He fell asleep with his head resting in the crook of my neck. I blinked and realized the credits were on the television screen, but Ryan wasn’t throwing his normal fit to have another tape put in. I looked down beside me.

Ryan’s eyes were closed and his little mouth open. His face was so peaceful. I looked at both of my babies and realized how vulnerable they were. I leaned down and kissed Ryan’s forehead, scooted off the bed so as not to wake him, and went to Seth’s room and laid him gently in his crib.

The stench of Ryan’s creativity filled the hallway. With lead feet I turned toward the kitchen for the cleaning supplies and headed back into the bathroom to finish the job. With each scrub, wipe, and rinse I sobbed harder and harder. “Jesus, help me.” I kept the mantra going. I couldn’t think of any other words to say that would break apart the boulder of stone that filled my chest.

The bathroom clean and a second check of the boys done to make sure they were still asleep, I headed to the sanctity of my bedroom. I sat down on the edge of my bed defeated. I hadn’t felt this low since the day I walked away from Paul’s house, only sixteen years old and no longer a virgin, certain any redeeming quality about me had been beaten and torn away in the struggle that had ensued in his bedroom.

I thought I had overcome all those years of living in deep despair, depression, and regret. I thought I had worked my way back into God’s good graces. I went to confession and Neal came into my life and accepted me even though I was demanding and hard to please. I thought. But the years passed, and I hadn’t been to confession since. My church attendance was sporadic even after the promise I made to God when I was pregnant with Ryan. My emotions jumbled like a ball of thread and I wasn’t sure what I felt about my marriage, my faith, my life.

The Bible study workbook on the nightstand ready to be thrown away caught my eye. I leaned over, picked it up, flipped through the pages, and came to rest on page 121 where I had underlined “No matter what has happened to us, what we have done, or where we have been, you and I are brides! It’s high time we see ourselves as we really are.”^[1]

I shook my head in response to a sentence I wanted to claim only months before. I wanted to feel like Christ’s bride. I wanted to feel worthy of his love and approval. I didn’t want to be this person I had become – angry, bitter, resentful, frustrated, undone and unhappy. The page crinkled and curled from the tears that fell and blurred my vision. I flipped through again and stopped only to wipe my eyes and nose with the back of my hand. I looked down at page 119 and read what I had underlined, “If Satan has convinced you to see yourself as anything less than the handpicked daughter of the King of all kings, you have something in common with Tamar…what you may have in common is a stronghold. My prayer is that the Holy Spirit will be free to mend the torn coats of the daughters of royalty. And that he will also restore lost dignity, teach us our true identity, and liberate us in purity.”^[2]

I had underlined purity three times. And in the corner of the page I read my handwritten prayer – “Lord, help me mend my torn clothes! Take that wall away that is blocking me from seeing how I am beautiful and pure in your kingdom. Heal my wounds and let me live.”

I whimpered and wiped my eyes. I want to live. I flipped through the book as if God were going to jump out from the pages, grab me, and suck me into a more pleasant world. I went back to the beginning of the book on page forty-five and read,

“What does it take? Paying attention to God’s commands (by obedience) through the power of the Holy Spirit within us? Why should we? Because God is incapable of making mistakes with our lives. Isaiah 48:17 tells us He teaches us only what is best for us. He directs us only in the way we should go. Obedience to God’s authority not only brings peace like a river but righteousness like the waves of the sea. Not righteous perfection. Righteous consistency.”^[3]

Gravity pulled me to the ground and I fell to my knees. I can’t do this anymore. Sobs shook my entire body. Desperate to end the pain I lay flat on the floor with my face in the matted dingy carpet. Everything I had done in the past four years that was impure, nasty, rude, mean, out of anger, and hateful toward others or myself rushed through my mind and pushed the sobs forward, rattling every bone in my body. In the confines of my mind I screamed. I don’t want to be this person anymore! I don’t want to live this life anymore. I don’t want to be here!

Beth Moore’s words pushed through the noise in my head. “What does it take? Paying attention to God’s commands through the power of the Holy Spirit within us… My prayer is that the Holy Spirit will be free to mend the torn coats of the daughters of royalty.”

My defiant nature took over and I stopped in mid-cry. With clenched fists I pushed myself up to my knees and prayed. Holy Spirit if you are in me then do something with my life! I don’t want to be this person anymore. I’m done. Holy Spirit help me.

In a simple breath I felt peace wrap around my shoulders like a warm blanket and the weight of the boulder in my chest disappeared, replaced by an explosive energy that coursed through my body and made me smile through the tears. For a brief moment I felt a love that I’d known when I was a child. A love that is certain and uncontested. A love with no conditions or judgment. I smelled his purity and grace. It was a taste of heaven.

I sat back on my heels and cried tears of joy. I had found God again. The God I knew as a young girl. The God I thought I disappointed and could never live up to his perfection. In that moment I knew all I wanted was to be with him. To do whatever it meant to make sure I could feel his peace wrap around me for eternity. I knew I was forgiven and redeemed.

Spent, I got up off the floor, put the workbook back on the nightstand, crawled into bed, and fell into a deep sleep.

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^[1] Moore, Beth “Breaking Free Bible Study – Making Liberty in Christ a Reality in Life.”LifeWay. 1999

^[2] Moore, Beth “Breaking Free Bible Study – Making Liberty in Christ a Reality in Life.”LifeWay. 1999

^[3] Moore, Beth “Breaking Free Bible Study – Making Liberty in Christ a Reality in Life.”LifeWay. 1999

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