I got the scissors out this summer and with the grace of God am cutting like a maniac. The strings that is. I realized recently that my life has gotten as tangled as a marionette being puppeteered by a toddler. Everything I do has some sort of string attached.

I made you that meal because you are my friend and would do the same for me.

I got up with the babies and let you sleep in so I could sleep in tomorrow.

I listen because I want it to be my turn next.

I check your blog please check mine.

Even the compliment someone gives me are likely responded with your shoes are so cute too!

This is not to say I don’t mean it, (I do, don’t worry girl. Your shoes are cute.) But the strings I have attached to my own words and actions are getting so tangled up in the attic of my heart that I am starting to attach them to others as well.

Maybe others do have strings, and maybe they don’t. Either way it is not my concern. Because this summer I have been reminded that this is what I know: While we were still sinners Christ died for us.

Because he loves us, not so that we would love him, not so that we would respond a certain way, but so that we could live in the freedom of being truly and deeply loved.

I have been living in the tangled lies of getting mine. Only scratching those backs that have the arms attached long enough to scratch mine. And my strings are getting so tangled I can barely scratch anything anymore without the immense effort of pulling against those strings.

So I am taking the scissors with the sharp blades of truth: God gave me my freedom, freely. I am free to give. And I am snipping those strings and stretching out my arms and my heart to their full capacity, the way they were designed to work.

I am finding that I don’t need those strings. God is becoming in charge of making sure I get mine. His grace is sufficient, it is extravagant, it is freeing me from my tangled mess of strings.

I don’t need those strings I have been carefully attaching. My God has given me my freedom, no strings attached.

This blog is in response to the prompt Sarah Bessey offered. There is so much truth to be found on her blog. Go check it out. What is saving your life right now?

Her hair runs wild and free all over her head. At her first birthday it was still firmly in the “peach fuzz” camp…and now it explodes in every direction curly and glinting with ginger and light. The hair that didn’t always show up in pictures tumbles over her forehead and into her eyes, down her nose and occasionally into her mouth.

It was so easy when the hair we were discussing was hypothetical. “Either her dad can do it, or I will cut it into a bob!” I used to declare. I assumed her hair would be as straight as mine and bang trims would be had every couple of weeks with special hair cutting scissors, her sitting on the bathroom counter feet swinging, thumping the cabinet doors. Her forehead dampened by the spray bottle. Hypothetical hair is so much easier to deal with.

Hypothetical two-year-olds are also easier to deal with. I have probably done less judging than most people when it comes to my pre-parenting days. My early days in the classroom taught me holier-than-thou statements that start with “I will never” don’t go down as easily as they spill out. But I am already doing things I had hoped to avoid. I yell too much, My patience drains quickly. I do not remain calm and tell her what I am going to do and then do it. The advice I give parents from toddler to teen. Advice that I still think is pretty good, hypothetically. Just like that bob that would turn into a fro the second I chopped it the way I once declared.

Her personality runs as wild and free as the hair on her tiny head. She is smart and funny and very very sure of herself. “I can’t wear those” she declared when I dared present her with shoes that did not have glitter on them “those too big.” (They are in fact perfectly sized.)

I don’t want to cut off these personality traits, like her ringlets they are beautiful and belong to her. I know that like her hair, they would likely not be tamed by a blunt cut, but become something completely unmanageable. But I cannot let her think it is acceptable to demand things from people or speak unkindly simply because you can. I have had students who have never learned they don’t always get their way. It is a much easier lesson to teach at two than at twenty. I love her too much to let her do whatever she wants.

That advice: 1. Say what you are going to do. 2. Do it. 3. Repeat. It works. I am a better teacher because of it. But it doesn’t take into acount the curl of the second guessing. Do I need to choose this battle? Does she really understand? Am I expecting too much. too little? It does not take into account the speed at which this wild haired little girl is able to push my buttons. A year ago I would not have believed it myself. It does not take into account (I am ashamed to admit) how much I care about what the people around us are thinking.

I have learned that less is more when it comes to this unfamiliar hair. Too mush brushing leaves the springy curls lifeless and sometimes frizzy. Too many bows distract from the natural beauty. Instead most days I sweep her hair off her forehead with a clip or tiny covered elastic. Just enough to keep her hair out of her eyes, so the world can see her bright smile and the hilarious way she scrunches her tiny eyebrows when she is contemplative, or set too firmly in her ways. It makes her look like a grown man.

On special occasions, if she will let me, I part her hair roughly down the middle and secure those curls in two pigtails. They look just like two cocker spaniel puppy ears. Soft and bouncy and bounding into the fun of it all. I never get the part as straight as I hoped, and the two always come out slightly cockeyed. But the effect is adorable.

I am slowly learning to shape her behavior in the same way. I want her actions to compliment her strongest personality features, rather than subdue them. I want her to continue to run wild and free as the hair down her back. As her mother it is my job to make sure that those unruly bits are gently brushed back from her face, and everyone can see how truly extraordinary she is.

Today at church the Peanut was in rare form. I suppose I should have suspected something was likely to go down when I was forced to wrangle her curls into a ponytail while she was playing the piano running herself and her hands up and down the keyboard. I may have threatened a buzz cut.

After the first song she yelled “All Done!” I was grateful it was a light crowd. As much as I want to let the minors be minor and allow my kid the space to be whoever it is she wants to be, there is a nagging suspicion that EVERYONE is watching you and EVERYONE is judging you and behind EVERY SINGLE smile from a mom who has been through it too there is actually a thought of Abby needs to get it together. That family is a mess, her daughter is unruly and she better step it up!

I am aware that this is not in fact what is racing through people’s heads…mostly…but in the moment it is certainly how it feels.

Anyway. We were singing Break Every Chain. I love this song. Normally songs with that much repetition make me want to die a little bit (In the early 2000’s did anyone else sing the refrain for “I could sing of your love forever” so many times you thought the worship team might be taking it literally?) but not this one. There is power in the name of Jesus. I need that reminder on a regular basis. Like as often as I need to breathe.

That song goes into the rotation exactly when I need it. I have sung those words as a declaration in my own life, over others homes, when I am fasting for change,  and even when I wasn’t sure I believed them. Quietly from my seat with my head down, loudly with my hands over my head I have sung those words. Break every chain, break every chain, break every chain.

But I have never sung those words, tears streaming down my face… from laughter. I am not sure what got into her this morning. In an attempt to get the Peanut to tune into the worship I was modeling some dance moves, hands above my head swaying, knees bending to the rhythm, even spinning in a small circle. Half way through the first chorus the Peanut takes the invitation to dance, grabs the seat in front of us and drops it like it’s hot. There was some serious booty shaking going on. So much so that me and her aunt had to cover our mouths we were laughing so hard.

As soon as that got under control the Peanut decided that the song was not up to par and began singing (loudly) all the verses to “The Wheels on the Bus” with motions and everything. I tried to redirect her but she took my clapping hands and made them goswish swish swishall through the town. And I was laughing so hard I was crying.

Still, in the background, me sitting on the ground laughing as my church cries out “There is Power in the Name of Jesus.” In that moment it was a realization. Today, those words were celebration. So my kid is a nutcase, my pants are wrinkly and I am exhausted from the party I threw for Christian’s birthday. There is Power in the Name of Jesus, and that power can be claimed right now in this moment. It is beautiful, it is joyful, it is beautiful right now. Just like my two-year-old.

It continues to be the year of Grace in my life. I am so glad that it is, but it has been humbling. The more I realize where I have NOT been extending grace, the more grace I need to extend to myself.

To Whom it May Concern:

I stumbled across this piece and saw my heart right there in bold.

This is the piece I have been holding onto. This is the chunk that has refused to release, the cold I keep feeling….because I am radiating it.

I haven’t trusted the Holy Spirit to do the work in your life.

I don’t love the choices you’ve made. I am scared for the collateral damage. But I need not insert myself in the dance between you and your God. If He loves you as much as I claim He does, He will pull you through. He always does. He always has for me. That is what God’s love does. It finds us, it pulls us back to Him.

God’s love is not about control, or sin management. It is about a relationship with Him. Somewhere along the way I got it flipped. I thought that God could not be around sin. That my sin, your sin could push Him out of your life or mine. But that isn’t the case. Sin is repelled by God. It is unable to co-exist with Him.

Maybe I was scared, that the sin would push away God, and then me. I am still afraid for the consequences. But I have seen the Lord redeem so many things, in the Bible, in my life, in the lives of my family. I know He can do anything, and I will rest in that. 

He knows what He is doing, even when we disagree about what is sin. I’ll let Him talk to me about mine, and you about yours. I’ll follow the convictions of my heart and trust you’ll follow yours. I will continue to pray for the alignment I crave, and act in the unity of Christ until that day comes.