Oh, how He loves me...

We've been having a battle of epic proportions in the Birney home this week. This battle has been so full of fight that both parties have been exhausted at the end of the day. Resistance has been strong and patience has run thin. This battle is not yet over.

This battle is... the battle of the bottle.

The battle of the bottle started Monday evening, upon realization that our little man was running on "E" when it came to getting enough liquids throughout the day. He has been a nursing babe for 9 1/2 months, and unfortunately he knows that fact well. We were smart parents in the beginning, being sure to give the little man a bottle every so often so as to avoid any "strikes" that would come. He did great taking a bottle, and was such a flexible babe.

And then our intelligence failed us.

The glimmer of formula being a welcome break to a mommy on the job was all too enticing, and I caved. I filled up a bottle of formula and stuck it into my son's mouth, soon to be matched with outright revolt. Revolt of not just formula, but all bottles to come....

ALL bottles....

.... ever.

And do you blame him? Have you ever smelled that stuff?

It reminds me of the powder my dad used to bottle-feed the calves whose mommy's wouldn't let them nurse or had died. It made my stomach drop for a few reasons: 1) for the horrendous smell of powdered milk, and 2) that the poor calves were being rejected by their own mommies or on their own for life (not sure which is worse). Sad.

Anyway, I digress...

I broke Elijah's trust and I paid for it.

As the strike on all bottles stood, I let it go and let him win. Sure it was tough to give up being away for more than 3hrs at a time, and sure we avoided going out too often as it was a LOT of work for a LITTLE time. But now, with Eli's need for more than I can give, we've been forced to return to the battle of the bottle.

And friends, if you haven't discovered this yet, you will... change IS tough. Apparently our son, as brilliant and compliant as we thought him to be, doesn't like change either.

As Scott stepped into the front lines of our battle one evening this week, I found myself locked up in our bedroom eating tortilla chips and salsa in bed (yes, in bed... sorry mom--you did teach me better). I was hungry and the chips were a perfect solution to drown out the screaming child in the kitchen below. And as I chomped, I prayed. I prayed hard. I thanked God for our healthy child, a child who had more than enough strength to tell his parents exactly how he felt about the bottle movement.

But then I prayed a prayer I didn't think I'd pull out until Eli was older. MUCH older. Maybe like 13 or 14 years older. Maybe like leaving for college older. Or maybe, in his 20's or 30's older. But no. At 9.5 months I prayed it, and how scary it was to say:

"Lord, please allow Elijah's will to be broken so that he may come to accept what is best for him."

WHAT??

Why is this so hard?? And WHY do I feel like I am praying the SAME prayer for MYSELF each day? It is so humbling to realize that God knows Eli's needs FAR better than Scott or I will ever know. Though I've read the scripture growing up, it has a whole new meaning of God's provision now that I have a son:

"Don't bargain with God. Be direct. Ask for what you need... If your little boy asks for a serving of fish, do you scare him with a live snake on his plate? If your little girl asks for an egg, do you trick her with a spider? As bad as you are, you wouldn't think of such a thing--you're at least decent to your own children. And don't you think the Father who conceived you in love will give the Holy Spirit when you ask him?" Luke 11: 10-13 (Message)

But here's the problem.

Eli wasn't asking for a bottle.

He was asking for me. He was asking for the "comfort food" he's grown accustomed to. And oh, how hard it is to deny your son what he asks for and give him, instead, what he truly needs.

Which leads me to my title post. Oh, how He loves me...

On this day of love, as you go on dates and send valentines and kiss the ones you love, remember that YOU are loved. Yes, you are loved by others close to you. And yes, it is a wonderful feeling to be someone's Valentine. But remember when all that you feel is alone and abandoned, or you are just plain frustrated and hurt with the brokenness of others....

.... remember ....

HIM.

The ONE who LOVES YOU.

Just as Jesus asked us to remember Him as He allowed his body to be crushed with the weight of our sin, we must remember whom love truly comes from on this Valentine's Day.

Presenting "A 1000 Days of Love"

Brought to you by contributions from..... GOD.

Yes, that's right. I said God with a big "G".

NOT Mr. Saint Valentino III. And definitely NOT cupid, the naked cherub flying around and shooting people. Nope. Not our spouses or our kids. Not Scruffy the dog. But God.

Remember God.

Remember that HE is our great provider, knowing EXACTLY what we need and when we need it. Remember that His love won't always appear or feel perfect, just as Jesus being bloodied and killed didn't appear as though God loved his Son. But He did...

....and His love IS PERFECT.

Remember that we are made capable of love, albeit a broken love, through Him and Him only.

"There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love. We love because he first loved us." 1 John 4:18-19

How deep the Father's love for us,

how vast beyond all measure.

And oh...

....oh, oh, oh....

HOW

HE

LOVES

US!

Happy Day of Love...

may we never forget our true

Source of Love!