YES!!!

I get really tired of saying "no."

This is the age where "no" can be a matter of life and death. Health and serious injury. Quick clean up and major disaster zone.

Toddlers need the word "no."

They really really really need boundaries.

Really.

And yet...I am really really really not a fan of "no."

When it comes to safety "no" is easy.

When the only reason I say "no" is because "yes" means more work for me....

well....

That is when I try my best to say "no thanks" to "no" and give my boys the big fat YES they have been longing for.

Especially when a certain almost three year old boy with twinkly blue eyes and a dynamite personality has endured a week of intense discipline to keep that stubborn defiance of his in check.

Today I did my best to say YES whenever possible, healthy, and safe, to my Cubby.

Yes to three green "Um-in Ums" before church (M&Ms).

Yes to the "pink wee-pop" after church (fruit popsicle).

Yes to running.

Yes to jumping on the couch.

Yes to building a fort.

Yes to building that million pieces tool bench that has been sitting in its box since Christmas....building it at the most inconvenient moment, of course.

Yes to mud.

Yes to twenty minutes in the playground before church.

Yes to spinning in circles till he might throw up.

Yes to the zipline.

Yes to running all over church.

My favorite bunch of "YES" happened after naptime...

Cubby loves going on special solo adventures with me. And with J for that matter. As a middle kid, its one of those special things we try and do with him from time to time so he can know that we love HIM. Even if he can't name a zillion dinosaurs by their scientific name, even if he didn't take his first steps yesterday...he is really great just the way he is. We are proud of him. And we need his help on our special adventures.

The adventure today?

Publix.

Our local grocery store.

I should explain that Publix is heaven for Cubby.

Publix is where they have all the food.

The treats, sprinkles, bananas, chocolate milk, purple yogurt, grapes, bacon, baking supplies.

My little sous-chef loves to accompany me to the store and help find ingredients for our cooking time...which happens just about every day at 5pm.

Today we spiced it up a little. :)

I made my list on a large piece of red construction paper. I listed the mundane things on one side, and then drew a treasure map with pictures of his favorite foods on the other side.

Cubs got to be a pirate and scour the store for the food on his map.

He had the sneers, growls and ARRGGS down pat.

He also said "hello" to everyone that passed by.

He also told me about his dreams.

Here is an example:

"Mom, I had a dream that I had a bad day and then you made me happy when you bought me the biggest ice cream in the world."

He gave me a slight shrug, batted his lashes, and curved those lips into a sneaky smile.

We made our way to the store, giggling and chatting, dropping "ARRRGGGS" every time we found an item on the map.

He let me know that string cheese should only be called "cheese bananas" because they are actually bananas made of cheese.

Cubs was glowing with happiness.

I let him pay at the register.

I let him try and sign my name on the credit card machine.

I NEVER let him do that.

His eyes widened, his legs kicked back and forth, a shiver of excitement shot up his back and burst out of his mouth with a loud squeal and then a very cute giggle.

Then the cherry on top....

His first ever Rice Krispies Treat as we drove home.

We said YES to lots of other things when we got home.

Yes to grapes instead of broccoli at dinner.

Yes to extra play time after dinner and before bath time.

Yes to extra playtime after bathtime and before bed time.

Yes to Dr. Suess stories on the CD player as he drifted off to sleep.

Have I ever mentioned on this blog, that Cubs refuses to be called anything but his own name?

If we call him "Captian Cubby" he will respond, "I am not a Captain! I'm just a boy!"

If we say, "Cubby is cranky" he will respond, "I am not cranky! I'm just a boy!"

Or even, "Cubby is the strongest tallest mightiest superhero ever," he will pause for a moment, consider the honor, and then turn it down with a quick shake of his head and a little frown, "I am not all those things, I am just a boy!"

Today as we made our way through the parking lot with all the groceries, we noticed the setting sun against the trees.

"What happens when the sun goes to sleep?" I ask.

"Oh Mom, the moon comes out to play!" He sighs, "but I don't want to go to bed after bathtime!" He looks up at me, luminous eyes and thick long lashes, "I can just be with you forever never."

"Cubs, you can be very convincing you know that?" I say with a smile.

He smiles back.

He knows he wrangled another "yes."

But he remembers what he must say and so responds...

"I AM NOT CONVINCERS. I AM JUST A BOY NOW!"

The Story

The story has changed.

It is no longer what it once was.

Years ago, whenever someone approached, hands twisted together, eyes filled with pity and embaressment, their lips asking, "Can you share The Story?" I knew precisely what they were asking for. Not a love story. Not a birth story. They wanted to hear the painful, soul altering story... the one I could never ever forget.

You see, The Story had been repeated and repeated and repeated for months on end. Recited like a grocery list for detectives, for police officers, for therapists, for pastors, for questioning friends and family, for social workers, for professors, for the Dean of Students, for the county judge.

Over and over again.

Engraining itself into the very strands of my DNA. Recited as if it were part of my identity, a new sort of social security number to be given at each new appointment.

My name, age, address, phone number.

Check the box that applies.

Victim of Sexual Assault.

Please describe:

Repeat The Story.

How odd that I did not notice when The Story changed?

Somehow the details of assaulted flesh and soul started to become less important.

No need to describe how he broke into the apartment.

No need to share my feelings of fear or to describe the sensation of feeling your limbs filled with lead, unable to move, unable to fight. The terrible sickness that follows being drugged against your will.

The intense shame of opening your mouth to speak the words of what occurred for the very first time.

That long moment in the shower, hours later, when I contemplated the razor in my hands. Wondered if I dragged it across my face, if I altered it forever, would I find any relief in that?

All of those ugly details began slipping away.

Words tumbling off the page.

Till all that remained was the initial box to be checked. Victim of Sexual Assualt. This will never be unchecked. And yet, The Story has changed.

No longer fear and agony, no longer hopelessness and anger.

Now it begins, "I was sexually assulted by a friend in college...and THEN...."

Now The Story tells of a body rebuilt, of a mind renewed, of a heart humbled before God.

Now The Story is one that I will proudly tell my sons. No shame involved. One child of God to another.

The scars are now separate from The Story.

Not because of any herculean effort on my part, not out of miraculous overnight healing.

The Story changed over the course of a thousand days. Because He loved me enough to draw close to me each one of those days. A long labor of love.

He drew near.

I reached out.

And now The Story is less about me and more about Him. As it should be.

One of the first lessons I learned after the assault was one I would cling to for years.

No matter what happens to me, it is never bigger than what Jesus did on the cross for me.

Over time, the lesson evolved into the overreaching theme of the entire story.

Thank you Lord for turning The Story into another kind of story all together.

I no longer dread that moment, years away yet always on my mind. In that future afternoon of filtered sunlight in a blue room scattered with race cars and knick knacks, perched on the edge of a bunk bed, looking into the eyes of my sons and sharing The Story. Letting them see what happens when men give in to their selfish desires and choose evil over self control is not even a tenth of the greater lesson.

Listen my sons to what the Lord has done for me....