Woog (and Mom) Keep The Faith

Woog moans, forcing his eyes open to the sight of me shaking him gently awake. He turns his head to one side and sees Eli grinning a good morning and slobbering all over the nose of his Tigger plushy ("Tighh," Eli says, "Tighh.")

"Mom," Woog pleads , "did I wake up early?" His desperation is so palpable I wish I could reassure him.

I glance at the clock. 7:00 AM. "No Woog," I say regretfully into his hair, "because here I am, waking you up."

He is crushed. And I am crushed at his disappointment. Only Eli, still chewing on Tigger's threadbare snout, is oblivious to the swirling emotions in the air.

"But I prayed to Papa God last night to help me wake up early." Woog looks ready to cry.

Oh dear.

I'm in a pickle here. How do you reaffirm your child's budding faith and support him in accomplishing the first ever worthwhile goal he's set for himself?

I feel his tortured angst. Who else but a son of mine would beat himself up over imagined wrongs, and carry lengthy grudges over imagined slights. All in the first hour of waking up.

Like me, Woog is not a morning person. He is a struggling little sleepyhead who goes through an elaborate stretching-in-bed-before-thoroughly-waking-up ceremony, and an even more elaborate dawdling-over-breakfast-to-savor-every-bite-whilst-talking-nonstop ritual, before rushing to school at the unholy hour of 8:00 AM.

His parents and his teachers have been on his case for the last three years. Whether it's been our earnestness in convincing (nagging) him, or his classmates' teasing that's inspired him, we cannot tell, except that a couple of weeks ago, he suddenly decided he would ask for wake-up call assistance in his nightly prayers. "I'll dream about waking up early, Mom," he announced. How he has unwittingly stumbled upon motivation-through-visualization, I haven't an inkling. Needless to say, I am so freaking proud of him.

And I would like to tell him about my struggle for self-disicipline and willpower, and the terrible horrible battles I've fought through the years against sleepiness, laziness and half a dozen broken alarm clocks...but in the same vein, I am determined to shore up his trust and reliance on Papa God, upon Whom this family puts a lot of stock on.

"Woog," I proceed cautiously, "I know you feel bad about not waking up early, but didn't you wake up before everyone else the other day?"

A sniff. He remembers.

"Sometimes Papa God answers your prayer with "yes". Sometimes, when it's not good for you, He says "no". And mostly, when He wants you to be patient, He says "wait."

Woog is puzzled by this, "but I can't hear Him, and I prayed twice last night." My sweet innocent! He probably expects this huge booming voice issuing edicts from heaven.

"He'll speak to you in your heart," I tell him, with the beginnings of inspiration, "you'll hear Him there. And I promise, you'll feel much better. You just have to learn to listen with your heart."

At this point, I get over the feeling that I'm winging it, lost in the turbulent sea of parenting. It gets harder to present a front of competent authority as my child grows older and starts to question the world around him, and sometimes I feel like a fraud, conning my way through with fingers crossed, hoping against hope I'm doing/saying/showing the right thing, but somehow in the middle of my explanation, The Competent Authority spoke. And He spoke in my heart.

"Papa God wants you to learn patience, Woog. And to keep on praying to him. And if you can't wake up early, He'll send me to wake you up."

Woog is smiling, wriggling out of his pajamas. The idea of mom waking him up in the mornings appeals to the remaining fragments of babyhood in him. I send up a brief prayer of thanks. One morning scene deflected, a trillion more to look forward to.

Meanwhile, Eli has abandoned a poor damp Tigger and turned his attention to opening and closing Woog's cabinet, his fingers in squashing proximity to the slamming door. I rush to the rescue once again, this time feeling infinitely more capable.

Self-reliance? Sure. Reliance on Papa God's parenting skills? Even better.

And wouldn't you know? Woog got to school early today.