He's Tate, and he's three.

Once, when I was in high school, I prayed a silly prayer. It was a simple prayer, which God has decided to answer over and over and over again in my life, and, I believe He will continue to answer until the day I die.

I prayed for God to humble me.

I can't remember what exactly prompted it. Maybe it was just one of those prayers that felt like a good thing to say at the time for no real reason other than to feel more spiritually mature (which often was the case with my prayers in high school), or maybe I really did want to be humbled because I could see my pride getting in the way of who God wanted me to be. Either way, I know now, I was not ready for the answer.

There have been many times in my life when I've prayed something and God so obviously answered my prayer I almost felt like I had super powers. But this time, I immediately wanted to take it back, as literally a day later I found myself in a very humbling situation in which the entire school was watching my reaction.

Fast forward 8 years, and I find myself in daily (hourly?) humbling situations in which two very precious little sets of eyes are watching my reactions. Ironically, the little people to whom these sets of eyes belong are the very ones who are causing the humbling situations. :) My three-year-old is...oh how would you say it...strong-willed? "Spirited"? My 7-month-old is not strong-willed but I can tell we're going to have to tackle some pretty serious whining and tattling as she grows. Anyway, both of them challenge me in ways I've never been challenged before and humbled me in ways I've never wanted to be humbled, but my son especially, for right now anyway, seems to be God's little humbling agent for me. :)

For awhile it would absolutely crush me when Tate would have a full-blown tantrum in public. My face would turn red, I'd apologize profusely to the friend/cashier/grandparent/whoever and I'd cry in the car. Ok, sometimes I wouldn't just cry, I'd yell at Tate too (great example, I know). He'd be disciplined when we got home and then I'd unintentionally, but kind of intentionally, give him the cold shoulder the rest of the day, even though we'd supposedly "reconciled" after he was disciplined. But lately Tate's reminded me of something that is very important, that somehow I forgot all those times he'd have these episodes: "Mommy, my name is Tate. I'm three."

He is Tate, and he is three.

I've read many wonderful parenting books. I've soaked up all the knowledge and tips others have given and I've applied all of what I consider good, Biblical ways to parent. Of course I have messed up royally again and again and sometimes I think it's a miracle my children are happy and healthy...but for the most part, I am doing my best. And when these things I'm trying so hard to do just aren't "working" like the books say they should, I get just plain angry. But lately I've been thinking that I am forgetting the most important part of parenting, and that is KNOWING my child, and just being proud that he's mine, no matter where he's at. Knowing him, and realizing that what takes one child a day to learn may take mine six months.

He's Tate, and he is three. He is no one else.

And he's watching me so carefully when he has his outbursts of anger, to see if I will burst out in anger at him as well. He's watching to see if when he's talking rudely and acting arrogantly if I will respond with a harsh, "Don't you talk to me that way!" or if I respond with a loving rebuke, for his heart's sake.

All I can say is that I am so thankful God is still answering that prayer I prayed in high school. I hate to think what kind of parent I'd be if I wasn't humbled constantly. I am so thankful for my little man who challenges me. While he's inherited a lot of my "not-so-good" qualities, there are many things inside of him I can only believe came from the Lord: He LOVES to pray for others, he does not care one bit what people think of him, and he tries SO HARD to be good. I wish on a daily basis that I could have those qualities. I have a feeling he is going to be teaching me more as he grows than I could ever even begin to teach him. And actually, the qualities some might consider "bad" are really ones that could turn into great things some day. The best piece of parenting advice I think I've ever received came from a mom of another strong-willed child, who told me that she likes to think that our children's "spiritedness" will simply turn into crazy passion for the Lord someday.

Anyway, he's Tate, and he's three. And I love him.

Stay tuned for what Jenny will learn from her daughter some day! :)