The 1Life Podcast with Behka White

Episode 31 - Tender Mercies in Parenting

In Episode 31 of the 1life podcast, titled "Tender Mercies in Parenting," host Behka White shares two personal experiences to illustrate how divine help can appear during challenging times. Behka refers to these moments of divine support as "tender mercies," small acts of kindness or insight that provide comfort and guidance during difficult times. She encourages listeners to trust in God's love and presence, even amidst life's challenges.

Duration:: 6m
Broadcast on:: 11 Aug 2024
Audio Format:: aac

Welcome to the One Life podcast with Becca White. I am your host and this is episode 31, "Tender Mercies in Parenting." Happy Sunday! Today I have been reminded of a couple tender, okay painful parenting experiences. I share these to illustrate that especially in our times of need we are not left alone. God is very mindful of us. My son Jacob was born in 2003 with a rare genetic disease which caused some pretty severe medical issues. One snowy winter day I bundled him up and tucked him in his carb head for the one hour drive to the children's hospital for a routine checkup. His carb head was similar to a car seat but the bed lay flat so that he could keep his airway open. I placed his carb head behind my seat on the floor of the van, close to a heating vent because he could not regulate his body temperature and I was worried about him going hypothermic on the drive. I could reach back and touch him to monitor his temperature. With all of these preparations we set off for his appointment. Honestly, car rides with Jacob provided me with some respite and re-centering. First of all because my other three children ages 2, 4 and 6 were next door at my neighbor Brooke's house. That woman is a saint. Second, Jacob had such a calming and peaceful presence. He was like heaven. During car rides it was like the stress of real life was suspended and I could be with my boy and feel his spirit. This day was no different. I enjoyed the peaceful car ride immensely and I reached back several times to make sure that Jacob was not too hot or too cold. The drive was uneventful right up until he parked and pulled Jacob out of the van to my horror. Jacob had an ulcer or a sore on one of his eyes. It was white and cloudy. It didn't cover his pupil but a large portion of his bright blue iris. The routine checkup turned into a visit to the ER, minor eye surgery and a huge burden of guilt for me. Jacob couldn't close his eye all the way. I regularly put eye ointment, not eye drops because drops were not sufficient but ointment in his eyes so they wouldn't dry out. On our one hour drive the heat vent I placed Jacob close to had blown steadily on that same spot on his eye, dried it out and then gave him the ulcer. It is easy to see that my error was unintentional. I couldn't see the negative effects on his eyes of my preparations to keep him warm and Jacob couldn't cry to alert me that there was a problem. Nevertheless, Jacob had a sore in his eye that could cause him to lose his eye because of my actions. Now good news, with the minor surgery to partially close his eye and vigilant eye ointment now with antibiotics, application he did not lose his eye. Slowly and surely the ulcer got smaller and smaller until it disappeared. What was lasting though was my insecurities about my ability to care for my three small children and my special needs son. But I mean, aren't all of our children's special needs in some way? Don't all of our children need more than we have to give at some point. Another illustration of these tender parenting experiences comes from an equally painful experience in which one of my children let me know that some of the things that I had said and done in the past had been emotionally damaging. This was different than with Jacob because I could not see the harm until much later. Not until my now adult child could articulate her experience. Seeing the events from her perspective, I was horrified at my behavior and the outcomes. This was additionally discouraging because at the time, I thought I was doing some of my very best work. Both of these experiences were painful. Even though I felt very alone, there were moments when God showed up in small ways to let me know of his big presence. I call these tender mercies. With Jacob in the IER, there was a roughly dressed gentleman in the waiting room who struck up a conversation with me. He had brought his friend in who had shrapnel in his eye from a welding accident. The gentleman asked me about my son. He asked me about my family. He made the conversation easy. And best of all, he made me laugh. When his friend came out of the office, the man stood to go and reached out his hand to give me something. Instinctively, I reached to meet him. He handed me a $100 bill. "I can't take your money," I said in surprise. He said, "I want you to have it. You and your boy and your family." I humbly thanked him. The two men left, the two men left, and I sat alone with Jacob in the dimly lit waiting room. Against my will, I started crying, releasing built up tears of stress from months of trying to care for Jacob and my three other young children. A $100 bill would not fix Jacob's eye or his medical condition, but it did communicate love and connection and encouragement. I felt seen and uplifted by God delivered through another human. It was a tender mercy. With my daughter, I first felt the pain of error. But then, in opposition, I felt the sweet mercy of God at being given another chance because of my daughter's courage to be vulnerable and sit with me in the discomfort as she taught me. The Savior taught that the truth shall make you free, and as she spoke, I could see the burden of her experience left. After our conversation, she hugged me all the way. None of these side-hug things. How grateful I am for my daughter's courage and our opportunity together to create a stronger, more honest relationship. My invitation on this Sunday is this. Believe in God. Believe that He knows you and loves you. Trust Him to show up in your hour of need, not necessarily to deliver you from the discomfort and difficulties of life, but to strengthen you in the discomfort and difficulties of life. We only get one life. Let's make it our best. [BLANK_AUDIO]