A Backyard Distance Away

They walked into my room with we’re about to ask you something looks on their faces. Their super big grins and uncertain eyes gave them away.

We know you’re gonna say no, but we want to ask anyway, they said. Hmmm.  I’ve been my parents daughter for 38 years and my husband’s wife for 15….and I still do things to keep them guessing and wondering as to what I might do, how I might respond. But these kids of mine? They act like they have me figured out already! As if the growing inside me, and the countless hours we spend together, and the taking over of my identity, and the {absolutely} no boundaries, gives them the utmost insight into who I am and what I do. Truth is…..it’s kind of, sort of true.

You’ll probably say no (they repeated), buuuut…..can we sleep on the trampoline tonight?

Are you kidding me? You’ll never make it all night! You’ll be crying or cold or afraid in no time…..is what I was thinking in my head. But I looked that four year old and five year old straight in the eyes and said Sure! Sounds like a blast!

Their eyes got big with disbelief, as if I never say yes to anything. Why does it seem like my yeses are never remembered, and my no’s are never forgotten?

Those cute littles ran upstairs to gather everything they needed. Pillows, sleeping bags, night-nights, paper, colored pencils, drinks and two table knives….you know, just in case they were visited by coyotes.

I helped them set up, cozied them in, sang a few songs and left them to the darkening, twinkly skies. Now, even though these two are seasoned campers, having tented with their daddy since their early years spent on the Nile River, I knew they’d never stay out there all night by themselves. This knowing each other thing goes both ways.

Around 9:30, they convinced their older brothers to join them.

At 10:30, Myles came stammering and whining into our room.

At 11:00, a crying Tessa climbed into our bed.

They had been eaten by mosquitoes and annoyed by our dog, who barked at everything that moved in the dark. We applied lotion to their itchy bites, resettled them into beds, and soothed them with snuggles and encouraging words. And within moments, sleep muffled their regrets for attempting the adventure.

A simple no would have avoided all that trouble and all those tears. A simple no would have meant a normal bed routine and a longer night’s sleep…for everyone. But I’m so glad I said yes. They’ll remember that night on the trampoline. That I trusted them to try something new. That I surprised them with my yes. Hopefully they’ll remember that they were brave to try and brave to give up. And that sometimes what seems fun, is only enjoyable when experienced with others you trust.

Sometimes I forget that my job isn’t to limit risk and avoid trouble and failure for my children. For those risky, troublesome situations teach them more about living than my boundaries and words of caution ever will. And those moments of failure will shape them in ways that success can’t. It’s easy for me to anticipate outcomes, and answer my children according to what I think is best or easiest. But sometimes I need to say yes even when I know it won’t go well. Even when I know they won’t be good at it. Even when I know they may fall. Even when I know it’s unwise. Even when I know they’ll come crying back to me wishing they had never done it.

This yes to a night on the trampoline was an easy yes. There will be harder ones, I know. Ones that take them further away than a backyard. Ones that lead to pain. Ones that teach me how to surrender them to the Father.

And this makes me think about God and me. And how temptation and curiosity have led me to act outside of His will, desire things that maybe He knew wouldn’t be good for me. And I wonder if He ever wanted to say no at those times to spare me the pain? I look back and remember times I felt like God said yes…but in the end, the idea or decision or opportunity didn’t go well, as if God never blessed it. I can’t help but wonder if those were little yeses that humbled me. Little yeses that taught me to trust him more than me. Little yeses that matured me and fixed my eyes on Jesus.  Maybe, just maybe, some of His yeses have been to open the door to growing and learning…with him a backyard distance away.