Brooklyn didn't care for the dinner we had last night. I don't really blame her. It wasn't the best tasting meal, and I'm trying this new thing where she has to at least try (which means take three good bites) to eat the food the rest of us are eating. We had herb roasted chicken breast, brussel sprouts, and buttered noodles (I always try to make sure there is one thing she likes). I will admit, it wasn't great. The chicken was pretty dry, and the noodles were even too firm for my liking, but regardless, it was dinner. Anyway, she didn't like it. As the meal wore on, she grew more and more despondent, eventually asking if she could be excused.
She went up to her room to "do nothing", but since that is not dramatic enough for her, she came back down to mope in front of us while we finished eating. She told us (in her saddest, most pathetic voice) that she had a bad day, making up some ridiculous line about not wanting to run on the playground. As her mother I can tell you with certainty she was just upset about dinner.
Later we played Uno Roboto, which was really fun, until Brooklyn lost and the mope came out again. As she got ready for her bath, big tears in her eyes, sadness in her voice, I took her by the shoulders and said, "Brooklyn, you had a good day! You didn't like dinner and you lost the game, but you had a good day!" I recounted all the good things we had enjoyed together and reminded her of the joy she had felt earlier. I made her repeat after me, "I had a good day!" with conviction, and by the time we finished our bedtime routine, I think she realized that life was not the disaster she had been thinking it was.
That night, I went for an hour of prayer at church. I sat at one of the prayer stations, a big white board that people were filling with prayers and praises. As I prayed for them and thought about what I would write, I was knocked on the head by how I am exactly like Brooklyn when I stand before my Heavenly Father. I mope and pout over little disillusionments in my life, completely neglecting the fact that I have a good life.
I have a good life. I have a good life! I HAVE A GOOD LIFE!!
I praise the Lord for He has show us mercy and blessed us beyond what we deserve. I pray that He will continue working in us, completing His good purpose, that we may be worthy stewards of the blessing He provides.
She went up to her room to "do nothing", but since that is not dramatic enough for her, she came back down to mope in front of us while we finished eating. She told us (in her saddest, most pathetic voice) that she had a bad day, making up some ridiculous line about not wanting to run on the playground. As her mother I can tell you with certainty she was just upset about dinner.
Later we played Uno Roboto, which was really fun, until Brooklyn lost and the mope came out again. As she got ready for her bath, big tears in her eyes, sadness in her voice, I took her by the shoulders and said, "Brooklyn, you had a good day! You didn't like dinner and you lost the game, but you had a good day!" I recounted all the good things we had enjoyed together and reminded her of the joy she had felt earlier. I made her repeat after me, "I had a good day!" with conviction, and by the time we finished our bedtime routine, I think she realized that life was not the disaster she had been thinking it was.
That night, I went for an hour of prayer at church. I sat at one of the prayer stations, a big white board that people were filling with prayers and praises. As I prayed for them and thought about what I would write, I was knocked on the head by how I am exactly like Brooklyn when I stand before my Heavenly Father. I mope and pout over little disillusionments in my life, completely neglecting the fact that I have a good life.
I have a good life. I have a good life! I HAVE A GOOD LIFE!!
I praise the Lord for He has show us mercy and blessed us beyond what we deserve. I pray that He will continue working in us, completing His good purpose, that we may be worthy stewards of the blessing He provides.
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