Sabotage

Daddy and husband again:

I may not have this completely accurate, but here's how it is in my brain. Attachment is real. It sure seems to me that it's a miracle of creation that when Sarah was born, I longed to hold her for hours and stare into her eyes. Attachment. And here's the nutty thing: all my staring was wiring synapses in her brain that her emotions needed to function as God intended. Kids who don't get that attachment, can't get it back. It's a small window, and after the window closes, the synapses can't be connected. Crazy!

My first thought is: How could God allow kids to go through life without attachment?
But my answer comes back: He didn't intend it that way. He intended for all children to receive the needed attachment from their parents. And when he renews the Earth and brings back shalom and Eden, that's how things will happen for eternity.

But for now, on this side of God's shalom, some kids have attachment issues. Call it RAD. Call it ADD. Call it ADHD. Call it Bombaloo. Call it whatever you'd like, but it's real.

It's what causes our little girl to spaz her head about all twitchy for a few seconds like she got shocked by 1,000 amps of electricity. I don't think I could make my body move that way if I tried. She does it for attention. She so desperately longs to fill that attachment void that she'll do anything to lock on to pure love and she sabotages herself in the process.

Simple example: JJ's hula hooping in the living room, so I lean my chin on my hand and watch her, putting my most adoring facial expression on. She notices me looking at her, and all normal hula-hooping stops. Hoop falls.

"Why are you looking at me, Daddy?" She's fishing for my words. She knows why I'm looking at her.

"Because I love watching you hula hoop."

"Why?"

"Because I love you."

Her eyes lock mine for a moment. Then she flails the hula hoop around her body. Another look at me. She falls to the ground. Another look at me. She stands back up and flails the hoop to where it's smacking herself in the head. Hysterical laughter insues. Stumbling to the carpet.

See, she has my pure adoration, and she longs to keep it forever. But she doesn't know how. And she thinks she can lose it. She thinks that if my eyes leave her, then so has my love. So she goofs off and acts up to keep my love. Which spurs natural reactions in me to not love her. Which spurs more goofing off. Which spurs more reactions to not love her.

It's that attachment void again. Because she didn't get it when she needed it, she might spend the rest of her life searching for it, and the methods she uses to earn attachment will only drive it further away.

God, give me unconditional grace. Incarnational. The kind of love that steps in to her void even when I won't get anything in return.