Courage Vs. Stupidity

"What does courage mean?" she asked out of the blue 

(literally we were walking along in silence under the big blue sky when her little voice piped up). 

"It's similar to bravery - when you're afraid to do something, but you do it anyways." 

Realizing that I just gave her blanket permission to attempt dangerous feats in the name of bravery, I quickly added, "it mostly applies to things that you know you should do, but you're nervous about it. If you know you shouldn't do something, it's not brave to try it anyways."

Fast forward a week or two.

Scene: the youngest two and I walk home from church--where we had been playing in the nursery with Big Sister while Daddy was in choir practice. I am half-way through making dinner when the doorbell rings. Standing there, by herself, is my first-born child with a huge grin on her face.

Courage is not crossing two streets by yourself when you are four-years-old. That's stupidity with a side of parental neglect. At least that's what the police officer would have said if he'd seen her and picked her up off the side of the road.

Obviously there was much hugging and stressing the importance of never-ever-ever-ever doing that again until she is 29 years old. Despite all our reasoning (which included a thorough discussion of more than a few downright terrifying "what if" scenarios), she did not seem repentant. Her argument? "Jesus was with me, Mom." Okay, yes. I'm so glad you know that. But let's not make Jesus have to work so hard to keep you alive.

The phrase "Jesus was with [him]" was straight out of the David and Goliath Bible story she loves so much. But there's a difference between doing something dangerous to bring God glory and doing something dangerous because you feel like having an adventure. Isn't there?

Fast forward a week or two.

Scene: Our three small children and I are two hours into our 6.5 hour trip to join their Daddy in Ohio where he's working for the better part of the week. We've stopped at a travel plaza to clean up vomit (yay for a whole suitcase of clean clothes!) and opt for an early lunch. We've emptied our bladders, picked up too many germs, and filled three-fourths of our bellies. We head back to the van where Brother can nurse in peace and quiet, but instead get distracted by an inviting outdoor pavilion that looks like the perfect place for little legs to run off some steam.

Brother is nursing and Sisters are giggling and galloping back and forth, until one sister trips and lands on her face. Blood fills her hands and mine while brother tries to crawl into the parking lot. Somehow I manage to get all three tiny people back into the travel plaza and throw the baby to a random stranger who has five kids of his own - he must know how to hold a baby, right? The blood slows down, but the crying does not. The stranger is clearly uncomfortable being responsible for my child and is no longer agreeing to hold him for just 2 more minutes. He follows me into the Family Restroom and tries to put Brother on the floor. I beg him for one last favor and he agrees to strap Little Man into the toddler chair (a thousand thank-yous, designers of the modern Family Restroom!). Sweet Girl fights and refuses ice chips, Popsicle, Tylenol, cookie, and pacifier.

this is the cleaned-up version

Eventually there is nothing left to do, but to strap everybody in their seats and get back on the road - after collecting the keys from the food court and the diaper bag and cell phone from the pavilion which now looks like the scene of a crime what with blood droplets on the ground. But which direction should I go? Home is so much closer, but the swollen lip will come home with us and four days of solo parenting are not looking fun. We press on.

Is a screaming child one of the influences that is included in a DUI? It probably should be.

I was complaining to God, asking Him why he couldn't have spared us that experience, and asking Him if He was going to be more faithful during the rest of the trip when we passed a tow truck removing a flipped car from the median. It felt like God was answering my complaints by pointing out that I haven't got a clue. What else would have kept you at that rest stop long enough to steer clear of this accident? What other injury causes that much of a mess without requiring a medical professional? What other injury do you have more experience with? (The same lip of the same child had spilled the same amount of blood just 6 weeks prior) I was with you the whole time. I am with you still.

I have since come to the realization that attempting that trip was more stupidity than bravery. It was not unlike a four-year-old crossing two streets all by herself. There is so much that could have gone horribly wrong! But we both have a good, Good Father who loves us and protects us whether we were being courageous for Him or just selfishly stupid.

Brother loves the Family Restroom toddler seat