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I caved in this year and finally got a little elf for “Elf on the Shelf”. Mostly because of this post. She spun the “elf on the shelf” idea in a way I’d never seen before. Frankly, I’ve never been able to wrap my heart around the idea of the typical “elf on the shelf” tradition of a naughty little elf making mini disasters. I suppose I just don’t have the energy to 1) make a mess and then 2) clean it up each morning and then 3) explain to my son why it’s really not okay to pour baking flour all over the kitchen floor… or something of that nature. Basically, I’m lamecity.
I also suppose I might be more into the jest of the naughty elf, but right now in our real life, we have a three year old who is going on thirteen. I find myself grasping for grace, begging for mercy and pleading for wisdom from heaven. It downright scares me – this age. It feels like I’ve entered an arena, a new battlefield. One where I have to relearn who the enemy really is and how he is working against me in new ways. And become reacquainted with my armor.
Last night I laid at my son’s bedside, tears flowing after a hard day, emotionally. Watching his little chest rise… and fall. Rise… and fall.
I prayed over his little heart.
I prayed over mine.
And that somehow God might use me in his life, to get to know his amazing love personally one day.
There is nothing quite like parenting, that magnifies your every flaw, and makes you so keenly aware of your need of a Savior. Again, and again, and again.