Blessed are the Squeaky Wheels: Lessons from a Midnight Baby Party

Levi was up for four hours in the middle of the night. We snuggled, watched Mission Impossible, and sprinkled the contents of a raisin bran muffin across the living room floor. I absolutely hate waking up with my children in the middle of the night. But once I’m up, I take a deep breath and try to be positive about losing half the night’s sleep.

One bonus of hanging out with kiddos in the wee hours is the bonding that takes place. When I think about my feelings of fondness and connection toward Annabel, I still think about those first gassy, screaming, sleepless weeks… and then 8 hours of hell over the Atlantic when she was 1.

So Levi down around 6AM and by 8AM he was screaming his head off again. I picked him up and took him to the screen porch where he threw a “top 10 tantrum”. He was so distraught that he was gagging between coughs and sobs. I held him gently as he kicked and screamed for 10 minutes and suddenly collapsed on my chest. I held him there for 30 minutes until sobs became sniffles and then the steady breathing of sleep.

Throughout the episode, I marked a quiet internal shift in my relationship toward my son. The intense drive to manage his stress was gone. Instead, I felt compassion and love for my distraught 1-year-old. I was content to wait through the screams, knowing that the snuggles were coming. That mysterious bond had taken place and compassion flooded in, even though I’m physically and mentally depleted from our many hours together.

For me, there’s a parenting application and a spiritual one. The parenting application for me is this: Parenting may never feel like giving resources I actually possess. I may never have the wisdom, resolve, or patience to deal with my children well. I may always feel like money is being demanded from a far-overdrawn account. And that might just be okay. Because in the strange and beautiful mystery of God’s design, I find myself with just enough to give right at the moment it’s required of me. Even when the kids wake up and I shake Debra awake saying, “I can’t! I can’t!”… I know that if I had to, the energy would be there. Like the widow’s oil that refused to run out in the context of hospitality and giving, so I’m finding myself with JUST enough to parent well when I choose to… even if I don’t believe that at 2AM.

The spiritual question I have is about the Father’s relationship toward those in pain. I feels theologically correct to say that God’s heart is immovable and unchanging, equally loving toward all his children. But part of me wonders if God’s fondness doesn’t grow for those who are willing to FEEL and EXPRESS their pain. Or perhaps, it’s just that the manifestation of His great affection is more welcome and evident in our expression of brokenness. As Jesus says, “Blessed are those who mourn for they will be comforted” (Mt 5:4). Or, as we might say, “the squeaky wheel gets the grease!”

We don’t want to be squeaky wheels because we’re afraid we’ll get rejected for expressing pain, and we’re afraid there will no grease for us and our pain will only deepen. I’m beginning to believe (again) that there is true comfort for those who dare to be needy and broken with the Father. I say this as someone who has gotten burned in the past for being vulnerable and needy. I’m also believing there is great reward in being a comforter, a minister of God’s acceptance and presence with messy people, including my family.

True confession: I’m really, really bad with messy people. Ask the people I’ve wounded with my judgey fixy words in the last 10 years. I don’t DO messy. But God loved me enough to put me, a reluctantly messy person, in an openly messy family where the free processing of stress, anger, fear, and pain challenges me on an hourly basis. I take on people’s stress easily so I try really hard to manage and minimize peoples’ emotions. But as my wife and daughter and son communicate readily, people don’t like being handled. So when all my good ideas and advice have failed, all I can do is withdraw or accept. And contrary to everything I’ve ever believed, I’m discovering that acceptance is a feasible option and, well… acceptable.

I’m also discovering that needs are acceptable and can be beautiful when honestly expressed. But more on that later… for now, I’m grateful for my family, for my kids even when they freak out, and for all the people in my life who patiently accept me even when I freak out.