Scratching, Scratching, Scratching

Ethan and I stopped by a convenience store close to our house so we could get two bottles of water. As we entered, I felt Ethan’s shoulders tense and his stride stammer a moment. Then glancing forward, I realized why. A little girl, probably around age 2, stood in the aisle in front of us crying.

Ethan is extremely sensitive to certain sounds – airplanes, vacuum cleaners, dogs barking. The one that creates the most adverse response, however, is that of crying children. They scare him and he will dart the other way, avoid ailes at the grocery stores, or look to me to cover his ears and quickly pass by.

This little girl was different though. She was crying hard, but very quietly. Her volume resembled more of a whimper, but the crocodile tears indicated a deeper sadness.

Then I saw her mother, hovered over the counter, relentlessly scratching away. One lottery ticket after another. Meanwhile the little girl stood staring at us, lost and lonely. Ethan, afraid, did not wander the ailes as he normally would, searching for the perfect snack. Instead he silently jaunted to the counter so we could quickly pay for the water and be on our way.

The little girl’s volume upped a mere notch. The mother grabbed the girl, cussed at her, and raised her arm and threatened a slap if she didn’t stop crying. Then, as if nothing had happened, she returned to her scratching.

Now I am the first to say I don’t know the entire situation. I only know the vignette that I witnessed in those few moments. But the little girl's eyes haunted me. What I saw appeared to be a mother so desperate to obtain a great escape from her current life that she failed to see a far greater award: her little girl.

But not only was I haunted, I was convicted. While I try to play the role of the good mommy, the truth is I often complain about my circumstances and groan for my own escape. There are many times that I choose not to pay attention to or even fuss at my children because I'm too busy scratching away at hopes for my own personal gain.

There’s a fine balance between the real need for a break from my kids and pure selfishness. That need for a break is often very real, so I am not diminishing its importance at all. However, if I step back and take a deep, honest look at myself, I realize I lean toward selfishness much more often than I like to think.

So although I hurt for the little girl, I am thankful that God imprinted this image upon my heart. And with that I pray that the Lord will remind me daily of the glorious gift He has awarded me already through my two precious children. May I not simply toss that prize away into my pile of worthless scraps, aimlessly grasping for something "greater."