Casting out Demons

I have 2 boys. 2 adventurous boys that keep life...interesting. When Leighton joined our family, I felt certain that she would cancel out some of the crazy. After all, aren't little girls suppose to be made of "sugar and spice and all things nice"? Leighton, however seems to have been born with an extra helping of spice, hold the nice. 

Case in point: I was helping Leighton get dressed for Mother's Day Out this morning. 

I had selected an adorable shirt with a cat on it. Leighton loves cats. 

The shirt had lots of pink on it.  Leighton loves pink.

The shirt had really cute ruffles on the sleeves. Leighton, apparently, hates ruffles.

Like really hates them.

She threw the fit of all fits in protest of wearing this shirt. I made the mistake of picking this battle and wasn't going to let her claim victory. So as she flailed about, I firmly put the shirt on her and escorted her to the car.  We spent the first 10 minutes of our car ride screaming and crying about this ruffled shirt until I finally started praying out loud.  I asked the Lord to help us right then, to restore peace to our car and in our lives.  When I paused in my prayer, Leighton responded, "I don't need any help!" I informed her that she did and then proclaimed: "In the name of Jesus, you will not talk about this shirt anymore." And that was it. The battle was over. The tears stopped. The yelling ceased. Praise Jesus! 

This moment was the closest I've come to seeing an instant miracle.

 I prayed.

God answered. 

Just like that.

It felt like the demon of willfulness had been cast out of my little girl and peace had been ushered in in its place (at least until the next wardrobe battle). Kidding. Not kidding.

In all seriousness though, this whole episode was such a pointed reminder for me.  How many times do I get caught up in my willfulness, my anger, my selfishness, and rebelliously declare: "I don't need help!" Yet nothing could be further from the truth. I have my own ideas about what my life should look like, and when God has other plans, I can throw my own little fit. But God, in His infinite love and mercy, puts my shirt (my spiritual armor) firmly on and escorts me on my path. Only when I stop protesting, stop kicking and screaming, does His peace settle on my soul, and I discover that I'm where I'm suppose to be. 

As I argued with Leighton this morning, I had reasoned: "I'm older than you and have been around a lot longer. I would never have you wear something that wasn't good." Isn't it the same with God? He is so much wiser, has been around a whole lot longer, and would never allow something that wasn't ultimately for our good. I'm incredibly grateful that God can use even 4-year old tantrums as a mirror to what needs to change in my own heart. I'm also thankful that when we call on Him, He is faithful to answer.

"And call on me in the day of trouble, and I will deliver you, and you will honor me." Psalm 50:15