I coined a phrase regarding my little guy Coen recently. Coen is addicted to gravity. He is constantly doing the research to prove that gravity exists. Be it rocks, kittens, or his favorite toy, Woody, everything is thrown up into the air. I've also seen him with his toes, three steps from the bottom of the stairs, precariously far over the edge, creeping closer and closer over the edge until there is no other option but to fall, face-first, down three stairs and then get up and try it again? I'm not sure what it is about his little psyche that doesn't believe that whatever he throws, himself included, will not return to the earth. Maybe he's hoping that it, or himself will fly?! Strange things are afoot!
I think ultimately he has trust issues. I have put him in swimming lessons for the last couple of months. He absolutely despises getting his face wet. I bought him goggles just so we could get through the lessons without the screams of bloody murder echoing throughout the pool. I forgot to mention that I am in the swimming lesson with him. He frantically clings to me. He cannot trust that I will not let him go. He cannot believe that I, his mother, would do anything to ensure that he will NOT drown. At this rate I may still be in swimming lessons with him when he is twenty. Sometimes fear, lack of trust, gets the upper hand in our lives. The result is hell. The irony of this whole thing is, is that if Coen could calm down and hear the comforting words of someone that loves him with an overflowing heart, maybe fears would take a back seat and he could actually enjoy being in the water. He chooses to be afraid and to cry and yell, while peace is there within his grasp. To me this definitely describes hell.
We also choose hell for ourselves at times. We worry about things that are beyond our control. We stay up late in bed mulling over problems and worries that can never be changed by our own troubled thoughts. The result is a tormented soul, far from peace and hope and joy while all of those things are within our grasp. We may even be clinging desperately to them but cannot hear or feel the assurance that comes from them because we are wrapped in our fear, doubt and pain.
Maybe you have experienced this. Whatever your hell has been, HOPE is there. Trust. Reach out and grab a hold of PEACE. Be quiet. Rest. The storm can be over, if you allow it.
Okay, so I empathize with Coen. Your description of his swim lesson makes me laugh, but only because I can so relate! Memories of swimming lessons still make a little panicky. Good on you for being there for him... Timely and comforting message too.
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