Imagine this scene: it’s 3:00am, I’m sleeping as deep as humanly possible, and in the still of the night, a baby cries. Not just any baby, but my incredible, precious, beautiful little girl. Nonetheless, her cry in the middle of the night sounds far from musical. And, it’s my turn to care for her during the night.
As I trudge down the hallway, my feet banging on the cold wood floors, I begin to talk to myself. Although it might seem otherwise, I really don’t talk to myself often.
In my work with families pursuing their calling to serve children through foster care and adoption, I teach about how we form relationships with others, and how we learn to trust and rely upon others. By meeting the needs of another person, consistently, we teach them that they are safe, secure, cared for, important, and loved. While the idea of supporting those we care about in ways that help them to form secure attachments with others seems like a great idea, the challenge is that we may be presented with opportunities to meet the needs of the ones we care about at times that are inconvenient, or when we aren’t mentally, emotionally, or spiritually prepared to focus on someone else.
One night, as I plodded down the hallway with my eyes barely open and mind focused on the inconvenience of my child’s timing, it hit me. The words I share with others, sentiments that I truly believe, hit me smack dab in the middle of my tired, weary, head. I could view my daughter’s plea for help as a burden, or I could choose to see this as an opportunity.
The reality is that my baby girl needed my help—she awoke in the middle of the night, felt alone and wanted comfort. I could choose to see her cry in the middle of the night as her way of making my life more difficult, or I could see it for what it is. She really didn’t have the means to meet her own needs, and she wanted the help of someone she knew could help her to feel safe, loved, and secure. I could view this as a burden, or I could choose to see it as an opportunity.
So, I changed my thinking. In the middle of the night, and even during the day, I began to talk to myself, if even just in my head. Now, as I tread wearily down the hallway, I tell myself, “I have an opportunity.” I consider it a privilege, a joy, to meet the needs of my child. I am honored to be able to meet her needs, to make her feel safe, and to know that by doing so she is not only soothed in the moment, but prepared for living in relationship with others for the rest of her days.
Examine the circumstances you encounter… are they burdening to you or do you have opportunities?
Filed under: Attachment, Baby, Bonding, Child, Hope, Relationships
