[Clayton is the 9 year old boy who lives in my house with his mom, Jenny.]
Last night, Clayton came home from his dad’s house, where he had been since our “Christmas morning” celebration on the 24th. He left ecstatic about all the incredible gifts Santa brought him – books and DVDs, video games, a razor scooter, a hover board, even his very own .22 rifle!
When he came home from his dad’s all he talked about was how much better the hover board he got there was than the one he got at our house. This hover board is so much smaller than the one I got at my dad’s house. The hover board at my dad’s house talks and plays music…. I could see how his words were hurting “Santa’s” feelings, and it certainly wasn’t making her feel very enthusiastic about giving him any more gifts in the future.
I bluntly called him out – because he’s not my kid, so I can do that,
“Hey! If you keep being a dick about the gifts Santa brought you, he’s not going to bring you any good gifts next year. Every time you complain about your hover board, that’s another tally mark in the ungrateful naughty kid column.”
(Let’s hold off on the debate about whether or not the belief in Santa Claus is psychologically or spiritually harmful – that’s a whole other conversation – and I know there are conflicting views on all sides. But, given his current frame of reference, this was a language he understood.)
The next comment he made about his hover board was an enthusiastic, “This hover board is so much lighter than the one at my dad’s, so that makes it easier to carry around; it’s more mobile!”
Mission accomplished.
Now, I know Clayton and I know his heart, and in general, he is not an ungrateful kid. Quite the opposite. In fact, I imagine if he was aware from whom the gifts really came, he would never have uttered a single negative comment. He just needed a small mental check. A correction.
His words and his attitude got me thinking about times we all slip into moments or seasons of ungrateful-ness.
It was only a month ago I, myself, was convicted of being guilty of the exact same thing Clayton was doing.
Barry and I spent years – literally – shopping for a house. (God bless our extremely patient and gracious real estate agent Doug who accompanied us all over the city of Cincinnati in and out of several dozen homes.)
Our final and ultimate prayer was that God would put us in the house that would be best used to serve Him, that would be the biggest blessing to people He wanted us to bless. We made known the specific elements our hearts desired in a home, but trumping all of that, our deepest desire was that our house be used as a tool for Him. And because our hearts were pure in that, He would surely provide all of our preferences as an added reward.
When we bought the house we live in, it happened in such a whirlwind we wondered if we had made the right choice. It was only 3 days from the time it came onto the market til it was ours and the closing was set. We found ourselves whiplashed, Do we even like that house? What does it even look like, do you remember? We were only there 30 minutes!!
But our confirmation came soon enough.
Before we even signed the closing documents, we went to lunch with our friend Jenny after church. Jenny, a single mom, started telling us how stressed she was trying to find a place for Clayton to go a couple days after school because she had moved out of his school district and her nursing schedule did not allow her to pick him up those days. She was near tears about it while telling us she had been crying for days not seeing any possible solution in sight.
The house we were moving into was in his school district, and in a heartbeat, we offered that he get off the bus at our house those days. My husband and I both work from home when not traveling for our jobs, so it was settled and a provided sigh of massive relief for her.
Fast forward six months, Jenny and Clayton actually ended up moving in with us when their housing situation changed and they needed time (and a roof over their heads) while they shopped for a home of their own.
It has been so blatantly obvious to all of us, from the beginning, that if, for nothing else than Jenny and Clayton, this house was the house we were supposed to be in. Without question I knew that. In the deepest part of my knower.
Yet, for the last 18 months, I have done nothing but complain about this house. Not the house. I love the house – and the 5 acres it sits on – I just haaaate where it’s located. Hate.
I wanted to stay in West Chester, the part of town from which we moved. It’s an adorable bustling suburb on the north side of Cincinnati, conveniently located off the major highway and literally 5 minutes from every dining, shopping and entertainment option you could dream of or want for. Plus, it was only about a 20 minute from drive almost any other part of the city – Mason, Oakley, Monroe (where the outlets are), Historic Lebanon, even Downtown.
Where we moved is a “developing” suburb (they call it) far out on the northeast side of Cincinnati. We are now a minimum of 15-20 minutes off any interstate in any direction, and the same distance or more to any decent dining, organic grocer, or any entertainment better than Redbox kiosks. The Kroger is tiny with no selection, there’s no Walmart “on the way home”, the Walgreens is on the wrong side of the road, my bank is impossible to get in and out of due to one way street signs and bad civil engineering, all of our friends are sooo much farther away, AND, you can’t even see the sunset from this part of town…..The petty complaints rolled on ad nauseam. (I feel really sorry for my sweet husband who endured all of this, with a positive attitude.)
One day, just a few weeks ago while writing in my prayer journal I had a revelation about just how ignorant I was being. How hypocritical. God had given me EXACTLY what I had prayed for. A house, first and foremost, to bless other people – which we were doing – in a huge way.
I had literally told the “God story”, about the house being so perfect for Jenny & Clayton’s situation, to dozens of people and given them goosebumps in the meantime.
But right out of the other side of my mouth, I spent that same amount of time criticizing the move to just as many.
I wasn’t disingenuous in my prayer from the start. I was truly, wholly heart-set on the house being a blessing to others first, and to us secondarily. But, my words and actions had not lined up with that prayer after-the-fact. Even though my prayer had been answered, in exactly the way I had asked for it.
Wow. Talk about conviction. Talk about missing it big time. I felt like such a fool. How did I not see that for so long?
I did a LOT of repenting that day, to God, AND to Barry.
I wondered what other things (blessings, opportunities) had been hindered in my life for the last year and a half because of my ungrateful and hypocritical attitude.
Like any parent, God certainly wasn’t looking to throw more gifts in my direction while I was running around like a spoiled brat about the ones He already gave me. I pictured Him up in heaven like, “HEY! If you’re going to keep being a dick about the house I gave you, I’m not going to hurry up in getting you the next one.” (Because God speaks to me in a language I understand.)
I got angry that I had been blind to my ungrateful attitude for so long. I could see how the enemy was intentionally shielding it from my view, because he wanted to keep me in the dark and off limits from the other blessings God had for me.
But in the end I was just thankful that my eyes were finally opened. That I can correct the behavior and catch myself if I slip into that place again.
It was such a gentle correction, it wasn’t harsh or condemning, and it only reaffirmed how loved I truly am.
Father – Thank you for loving me enough to use your Spirit to correct me when I need it. I pray that I would be more receptive to these corrections sooner in the future, and would spend less time operating in blind spots. Most of all, thank you for the grace that covers me when I miss the mark this badly! I love you. Amen.
