Choose Your Battles
My beautiful son just got a huge tattoo. He loves it. I hate it. When I look at it I remember when he was prematurely born and struggled to survive. I remember that for months the monitors attached to his tiny body would go off alarming us to thump his foot and startle him into breathing again. I remember covering him in prayers for health and strength. I reminisce over the toddler with blonde bangs and a big smile whose happiest place was in my lap. I ache for the simpler, sweet days of chicken nuggets, mac’n’cheese and rescue heroes. I’d love to revisit the times when I was the one who could soothe the pain of a busted-up knee or broken heart. I loved the bedtime agenda of 2 songs, 1 story and family prayer time. I miss squealing with him while watching “Fear Factor” and water balloon fights and “Happy Grams” and his elastic waist corduroys, and his comic strip bible and bed hair and the dirt +feet+ fresh cut grass rank smell of football carpool. So many sweet memories have faded and I feel like this mammoth tattoo mocks me with the harsh reality that I am the mother of a grown man.
As I lamented the reality of the tattoo, someone tried to encourage me with the phrase “Well, you have to choose your battles”, and though this is true, it is also true that when we choose not to engage in battle, there is still loss.
I could have stopped my son from getting a tattoo. I could have taken away his car, grounded him and made all kinds of threats. If I was stubborn enough and willing to put the preservation of his skin over his need to express himself, I could have. I know how to win and I certainly could have won this battle. Maybe I should have chosen to fight, but this time I didn’t. My home is relatively peaceful. I didn’t waste energy on threats or rage. He is happy with the ink and appreciative of my allowance…. Battle over beautiful skin-not chosen.
I need to be encouraged. I wish I had confidence that by not engaging in battle, I did the right thing. It’s done now and it’s permanent, and so if I was a terrible mother by being permissive, well crap! It’s certainly not the first time I’ve messed up this mom assignment. I want to get it right. I want to be the proverbs 31 woman and the mom who is cherished and adored. I want to always be kind and do justice and love mercy and walk humbly and fight the right battles. I want my kids to make good decisions without my threats or praises as their motivator. I want the Holy Spirit to move through my family so we are all hungry for God’s word and for harmony in our home.
As I want and as I pray and as I keep trying, here is the encouragement I have found:
It is helpful when we find ourselves in battle to rely on God’s track record. He fights for us. He says, “I choose you.” When we are weak, He is strong. There is nothing that I want more than for my children to love Jesus even more than I do, and the battle for their souls is His. “He is a strength to the poor, a strength to the needy in distress, a refuge from the storm, a shade from the heat.” (Isaiah 25:4). When I fail as I often do, God is there to lift me up- “Let us fall into the hand of the Lord, for His mercies are great.” (2 Samuel 24:14). I will never be totally at peace here, because this is not my forever home (1 Peter 2:11), but thankfully, my time here is brief compared to eternity in heaven (James 4:14) and when my time here is done, I will see the King in His beauty (Isaiah 33:17) I will see Him as He is (1 John 3:2) In my flesh I shall see God (Job 19:26) and I will be satisfied (Psalm 17:15).