Out of Bounds

 

Dear Old Friend,

As you know, I just came back from visiting my daughter and my four year old grandson.  I remember, when my own son was four, being concerned that there was something wrong with him because he seemed to be out of control; and, I remember being greatly relieved when I read an article which told me that four is the “out of bounds” age.  Everything is too loud, every emotion is too strong, and every attempted activity is too dangerous.  Four is when children intentionally push, and leap over, every boundary.  It is the year of extremes.  It is the year of believing you are in control, and actually being out of control; especially with boys!

On my very first day there, my grandson experimented with calling me Bonnie, because that is what his dad calls me.  I explained all about first names versus relationships, like mommy and daddy, and that even though Bonnie was my first name, I was his Grammie and that’s what he should call me.  That worked for a few minutes, but then I suddenly became Grams, and that stuck.  It was his four year old way of being in control.  His favorite phrase was, “Follow me, Grams”, and off we would go on one exciting adventure after another.

As long as I was with him, I was primarily able to keep him from suffering serious bodily harm and from inflicting bodily harm on others, but whenever I took time to visit with my daughter, and he was left to his own devices, he would do things like scaring the two very pregnant goats off the porch or running headlong into the flock of chickens, chasing them into the neighbor’s yard (See my daughter's hilarious blog for further info about the goats and chickens, etc.)  It didn’t matter how many serious conversations he’d already had with his mother about the very good reasons why he was not supposed to do those things.  It did not matter what consequences he would suffer if he did those things anyway; the temptation was just too great.

Once, when I was leisurely sipping coffee and chatting with my daughter who was working in the kitchen, he grabbed a backless barstool and dragged it into the hallway, where we couldn’t see him.  When I grew suspicious and got up to investigate, I found him standing on the stool, teetering on his tiptoes.  When I swept him off the stool into my arms, he loudly protested that he wanted to touch the ceiling light fixture.  “Help me, Grams!” he ordered. When I tried to explain why this was not the great idea he thought it was, he protested loudly and I had to enlist the authority of Mommy to dissuade him.

I wondered on numerous occasions how my daughter managed when I wasn’t there. My son-in-law, due to the nature of his job, is often gone for weeks at a time; and, as much as my grandson would love it, my daughter isn’t able to spend every waking moment following him around, giving him her full attention.  He is up at the crack of dawn and no longer takes naps, so there isn’t even a break time for her to do things while he is safely asleep.  It is inevitable that he will sometimes be out of her sight during the day.  She does an admirable job of ensuring his safety, but as I mentioned, he’s four….

It occurred to me that, to God, we are all like four year old boys.  We all believe we are in control, when we are out of control.  We all have hairbrained schemes which put us in danger.  We all do things which we know are wrong, undeterred by the looming consequences, because the temptation is just too great.

Thankfully, we are never out of God’s sight, even for a moment! He understands and is infinitely patient with our tendency to be out of bounds.  He tenderly watches over us, giving comfort when we are hurt by our own poor choices; and he has provided forgiveness for all of our indiscretions through the life, death and resurrection of his own son.

How precious it is to have that assurance, for myself, for my children and for my grandchildren!

Love Always,

Bonnie