We are currently in the middle of a blankie crisis in our house. After dealing with it for an hour or so, I am now hiding out while Chad searches high and low for the precious pink blankie with white polka dots. A good marriage is all about tag teaming.
Emerald’s obsession with her blankie has been slow to come on. None of my children ever really “bonded” with an object, but to be truthful, I always kind of wanted them to. I would try different things with them, hoping that one would become that magic cure that would calm a child at the doctor’s office or soothe them back to sleep in the middle of the night. I tried, but it just never happened.
They were happy to use me as their lovey. And, that wasn’t really super convenient for me in the middle of the night.
But, one day Emerald seemed to show a slight preference for this little pink blankie that someone had gifted me at a baby shower. She didn’t want to have it day and night, but she liked to hold it sometimes. That was when she was about two.
The here-and-there preference for the blankie went on for about another year. But, then I noticed that she started asking for it every night. And then she started taking it in the car with her. Pretty soon she wasn’t calling it “it.” She was calling it “her.” She would say things like, “I’m taking Blankie because I’m going to play with her while we drive.” Or, “I want Blankie so I can scratch her.” Blankie has a certain side that Emerald likes to scratch with her fingernail. I’m pretty sure that if things keep progressing at this rate, we will soon be setting a place for Blankie at the dinner table.
But, right now, she is nowhere to be found. She was just here a few hours ago, but she seems to have at least temporarily gone the way of lost socks and hair bands. I hope she’s having fun.
In the meantime, I’ve been trying to convince Emerald to go to sleep for an hour and a half. There’s a reason they call those things security blankets.
And, even though I’m pretty sure I’ve spent large portions of the past hour whisper screaming at Emerald that she HAS to go to sleep now, I understand how she feels. I have a few security blankets of my own. Oh, they’re not pink with polka dots. But, they do make me feel better. Things that I rely on to keep me feeling upright and somewhat in control. Things like my abilities. My good deeds. My “righteousness.”
And then, more often than I would like to admit, I find myself failing miserably. I find myself drowning in a pit of my horrible attitudes, my selfish motivations, my self-reliance, which is such a joke in light of the power of my God. And, once again, all of my security blankets disappear, and I’m just a scared little girl, admitting that there is nothing in me that is even a little bit good. Nothing but my Jesus. His righteousness is all there is.
The crazy thing is that He is the only security. He is the only guarantee. The only promise. The only Truth. I wonder why I try to settle for my own flimsy versions of security. Heaven knows they let me down over and over again.
I’m sure tomorrow morning when Emerald wakes up, she’ll suddenly remember that she stuffed Blankie into a refrigerator drawer or jammed her behind the china cabinet. She’ll drag her out, and all will be right with the world again. Blankie will run errands with us, and Emerald will drift right off to sleep at naptime, happily scratching on her precious scrap of fabric.
I pray that tomorrow morning I wake up remembering that I can’t accomplish anything for Christ unless I depend on Him alone. No amount of holding tight to my own goodness will bring me peace. I need Him. I need Him desperately. He never goes the way of lost socks. He’s always near, always helping, always providing all the security I could ever need.