Brush Her Hair, Father?

 It happened just like so many times before. We'd had an absolutely beautiful day, enjoyed each other's company, shopped, played, laughed... Then, as we wound down for bed, the battle began. Not a battle over bedtime, but over a decision, a moment of disrespect, a moment of not taking responsibility for one's actions. My daughter and I have had many such blowups. We're tired, we're overstimulated, and we trigger each other's fight or flight response, except for us its alsway fight. Definitely not some of my proudest parenting moments.

Yelling and back talking turned to tears and anger. No one can regulate themselves. The other children make themselves scarce. We're miserable. And the enemy almost wins. He almost robs us of our perfect day, of all of the beauty that came before this moment. I step away, my frustration tempting me to go to sleep and ignore it all. But my baby girl... No matter the situation she deserves to go to bed knowing that this fight doesn't change how much I love her, how I would give anything for her. So I simply sit on my bed and breath.

In a moment I hear the Holy Spirit tell me to have my daughter find a hairbrush and come sit in front of me. I hesitate for jus a split second. It sounds ridiculous. Brush her hair, Father? What is that going to do? But that is all the longer I wait before being obedient and calling for my daughter. I tell her to find a brush and come to my room. I can hear her sobs even as she obeys. Her body is as tense as mine as she crawls up on my bed and sits between my knees... and I start brushing her hair. 

The moment I start running the brush through her freshly washed hair her body began to unwind. Tension left her shoulders. Her breathing slowed and the sounds of her crying faded away. She began to take deep breaths. I realized that I was breathing deeply as well and the anger in my chest had melted away. I don't know how long I brushed her hair. The tangles were gone long before I stopped brushing. 

But, finally, I sat the brush to the side and pulled her back into my chest. She rested her head on me and began to cry quietly again. This time it was different. These tears were relief. These tears were being seen and held. As I held her I brushed her forehead with my fingers. Its one of her favorite things. These new tears faded too and we were just quiet for a moment. When I broke the silence it was to remind her that the enemy doesn't get to steal our day. He doesn't get to take all of the good from the day and wreck it with this one momentary thing. She tells me that she had been telling herself she ruined it all. I quickly assure her that she didn't ruin anything and that we still had a wonderful day. Nothing could take that away from us. And since we were actively fixing our actions we were able to make sure the day ended the way it started. 

We snuggled for a bit longer and then she went to bed. I did too, but not before realizing how perfectly the Holy Spirit had known exactly what we both needed... What would regulate both of our nervous systems and restore our heart connection. I am so incredibly grateful for the Still, Small Voice that speaks to us if we are willing to listen. I am so grateful that I was able to see through my frustration and obey what I was hearing. We are never alone in our parenting journey. The Father cares about our relationships with our babies. He cares about their hearts, and ours. He cares. And He leads, where we will let Him.