There is a verse in Proverbs that is sort of hard for me to understand...
Better to meet a bear robbed of her cubs than a fool his folly (proverbs 17:12).
It's not that I don't agree that a fool in his folly is surely a thing to stay away from. Oh no. Stay far far away.
It's that I am unable to compare the ferocity that comes over me whenever I feel that my cubs might be robbed from me or that my children might be threatened...to...well, to...anything.
My personality is very non confrontational. In fact, it is a fault of mine. I will avoid confrontation at all costs. I even get uncomfortable when Jeremiah gets frustrated with something trivial like a computer on the fritz. (Not that he ever gets frustrated at things like that!)
However. This does not apply when it comes to my children. I have no problems whatsoever confronting you if I feel like you are hurting/harming/or doing anything negative to my child.
I have written a lot about how I have had to grow into my feelings for Eli. I chose to love him from the start and I do, I do, I do...but my feelings have taken some growing into.
This past weekend we took the kids to an indoor play gym to let them get some energy out on a cold and rainy day. True to their personalities, Ella took off to see if she could make a friend or two, Ezra took off to conquer every play apparatus, and Eli observed the perimeter before cautiously approaching his slide of choice.
Except that there was a bigger boy there...
Who was not going to let Eli pass.
Or climb up.
Or even just stand there and wait.
He was bullying my child.
I observed for a minute and watched their interaction because I wanted to see what Eli would do. Remember, I am still getting to know him and learn his personality and how he reacts in certain situations.
Well, I could see that he was getting upset and just going to back away.
And then the fierceness rose up in me. No, I hadn't been robbed of my cubs. But, one of my cubs was being made to suffer. And it didn't matter that this cub wasn't born of my body. And it didn't matter that I have had to grow into my feelings of love for him. And...really, nothing else mattered at this point.
I walked over to the other little boy and punched him in the face so hard he went flying across the room.
I walked over to the boy and sternly (but nicely) told him that he needed to let Eli play.
And I can't explain the feeling that came over me after that interaction. I wanted to scoop Eli up and smother him with kisses. I wanted to yell to the world, "that is my son!"
Instead, I quietly smiled to myself.
And thanked the Lord for the gift of a son given to me from thousands of miles away that I would move heaven and earth to protect.