Refining
Being comfortable with being uncomfortable
When she started full-time kindergarten, fear completley paralyzed our five-year-old daughter. Intrusive thoughts and separation anxiety forced her into a prison created by her own mind.
For the first eight weeks, she cried every single morning and throughout the school day. Soon, the weight of anxiety began to surface at night, too, in anticipation of the next day. Our evenings were consumed with pep talks, distractions, and in moments of weakness, bribery.
She was our oldest child, and we had no clue what we were doing. We always knew she felt big feelings, often overcome with love and joy with us and those close to her. But we hadn’t yet observed how big her feelings could become when anxiety took over.
By the time she collapsed under the exhaustion and was finally asleep each night, my own brain would ignite. I’d lay in bed, tears spilling down my cheeks and into my ears, wondering what to try next. Praying for help. BEGGING God for some relief.
Kindergarten was our first long walk through the desert. It was also the first time I recognized how easy it is to be tempted by the idol of comfort.
Comfort isn’t always a bad thing. I’m a big fan of comfort, in fact. But when good things become idols in our life, we’re tempted to push back against what God is asking of us in order to hold on to it. Which is exactly where I found myself.
The temptation came at the perfect time. We were desperate for reprieve from the struggle. So tired of engaging in this battle with no relief in sight. The words actually felt like a life preserver tossed in our direction as we fought to keep our head above the waves.
“Have you thought about pulling her out and homeschooling?”
I was lamenting to someone about our situation when she casually suggested the idea. We’d been having almost daily conversations with her school counselor, and we had tried dozens of other things that hadn’t worked. I was sure her teacher was growing weary (although she was amazing and always so encouraging). Honestly, it seemed as though this suggestion was another way of saying what I was already thinking, “There’s nothing else they can do for us here.”
When I tell you that nothing has ever felt more tempting or appealing. For a brief second, I imagined carefree mornings. I pictured us laughing around the kitchen table as we practiced reading. I longed for the version of my little girl who wasn’t fighting for her life inside her own mind. The same girl who once said, “I sometimes wonder how I can fit all my love in my heart.”
I missed her.
And I missed who I was when I wasn’t being held to the fire each and every day. The more patient version of myself. The comfortable version of myself.
It was truly God’s divine provision and guidance that led us to make the decision to keep her at school. There was an unexplainable peace in the midst of such a trying time. Unexplainable, because we were desperate for relief, and homeschooling seemed like a wide open door leading us to greener pastures.
Yet we persevered. We stayed the course. We continued to pray and cry and hope. And with time, she began to gain confidence and tools to manage her fears in a healthy way. She learned that discomfort is temporary and that she can do hard things.
She’s 20 years old now. She’s living in her college town in a house with her closest friends. She’s paying bills and making grocery lists and juggling two summer jobs to help pay for school.
While anxiety is still a presence in her life (and likely always will be unless God chooses to fully take it from her) she is learning what it feels like to trust Him in the middle of the desert. She is learning to praise Him in the storm.
And if I could have chosen, 15 years ago, between our comfort or her exponential growth, I would have made the same decision over and over again knowing what I know.
Homeschooling wasn’t the road God led us down as a family. I also know several families who are thriving with homeschooling. And I love that we serve a very personal God who knows exactly what each of us need exactly when we need it.
I’m grateful we trusted Him even when it was painful. That painful experience served us so well as we’ve walked this parenting road over the last 20 years.
Because even when our kids are teens and young adults, it is so tempting to cave to the temptation of “easy and comfortable.” To rescue them or step in when we should actually step back. But as I have repeatedly told my girls (even very recently), our greatest growth does not come from staying in our comfort zone.
When the girls were small, we ordered one of those butterfly kits with live caterpillars. We were all super invested in watching these squishy little creatures consume a crazy amount of food and then spin themselves into a cozy cocoon. (My idea of a perfect evening.)
We checked on them every day until we started seeing slight signs of movement. And suddenly, those movements turned into a considerable struggle. There was even blood involved. As they fought their way from the constraints of their self-made prison, they emerged completely transformed. It was truly a miracle to witness.
That’s what God does with us. If we trust Him in the process of refining. If we seek Him in the midst of our pain. He will not leave us as we are.
And that is one of the greatest miracles of this life.