Detectives of Grace

On meltdowns and the mental effort to find the good, true and beautiful

Tears mingled with the snot sprinting to get off his face as he wailed about the soccer game. It didn’t end the way he wanted. A meltdown now held my son tightly in its grip, and it would not let him go easily.

He wanted to win the game. But not that way. Not last goal wins! He needed to score more goals. And he needed water. But no. Not that water. The water in the green bottle that is all the way outside. The water we left out there because his emotional state mimicked the website formerly known as Twitter after—well—every news story.

Once I remembered that I couldn’t just tell him to stop melting down (isn’t it frustrating that four year olds don’t come with an off switch?), I turned into the dad I actually want to be.

I held him while he let all the frustration and sadness leave his body with the heaves and the tears. The staccato inhales that sucked air past his bottom lip subsided, and his breathing returned to normal.

Then I said, “I want to play a game with you.”

“A game?”

“Yeah! Right now, we’re really good at listing all of the things that are going wrong. So this is the game. We’re going to go back and forth listing all the good things that happened today. All the things we’re grateful for. I’ll start.”

Cool game, dad. He was decidedly not amused. He passed on his first turn. When his second turn came he said, “My…my answer is…I can’t think of one because I’m crying!”

But on his third turn he took the bait. “I’m happy that, when mommy tried to score on me, I ran back and blocked it with my foot!”

We went back-n-forth for the next few minutes sharing all the people, things, and moments we were grateful for. After a small interruption, I made to get up off the couch. He grabbed my arm.

“Dadda,” He said with a grin, “I want to keep playing.”

My friend, Pastor Beth Carroll, once exhorted us in a sermon to be detectives of grace.

Sometimes life cooperates, and our detective work feels as easy as Blues Clues. Other times, Sherlock himself would have a hard time deducing his way to the goodness in our lives. Our vision is clouded by the small sadnesses and big worries we carry around on our faces like lenses through which we see the world.

We’re not melting down on the outside, but on the inside all we can see is the dishwasher that needs replacing, the hard conversation we’ve been avoiding, the way we weren’t thanked for that nice thing we did for our spouse.

Grace? Goodness? My answer is…I can’t think of anything because I’m crying.

But the happy moments aren’t the ones in which we need gratitude the most. It’s the mornings when the work feels overwhelming, the seasons when we are sure we will have a cold for the rest of our lives, the evenings when a toddler has been yelling at you for the last forty five minutes when gratitude becomes a lifeline.

Detective work indeed. Grace requires some real sleuthing sometimes.

Photo by Steven Wright on Unsplash

⁸ Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. ⁹ Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me—put it into practice. And the God of peace will be with you. (Philippians 4:8-9)

In his letter to the Philippian church, the apostle Paul encourages us to intentionally set our minds on the good, the true and the beautiful.

It should come as no surprise that he sandwiches this exhortation between some comments about the power of prayer to overcome anxiety and his own ability to remain content in any situation. The mind and the heart are not the same thing, but the mind is the gateway to the heart. What we allow to loiter in our consciousness will eventually sell it’s wares to our soul.

In other words, what my mind thinks my heart eventually begins to feel.

Does this mean we ignore our pain, our anxiety, our frustrations, or our overwhelm? Far from it!

Even Paul, despite his distinct lack of 21st century therapy, acknowledges the hardships he’s endured and the anxiety that so frequently rides shotgun with suffering.

He doesn’t stuff his pain. He just doesn’t let it live rent free in his head.

When the dishwasher breaks, a detective of grace looks for a deeper truth.

I’ve had a robot that washes my dishes for 6 years! I have plates, and food, and a table to eat at. Clean running water that appears like magic from the faucet, no hauling required. What a gift.

When the overwhelm threatens to crush our hope for a productive day, a detective of grace looks for a deeper goodness.

I have a job that pays my bills. I have bills because I can afford electricity and hot water. Some of the challenges I face in my job are actually because it’s going well! And the work I get to do each day helps the world work better.

When the toddler is melting down in what can only be called the prototypical ugly cry, a detective of grace looks for a deeper beauty.

The flipside of these big emotions is the ridiculous joy we had earlier this evening. He has such breathtaking access to his feelings! And he has safe arms to fall apart in.

Unbeknownst to me, he’s still playing the game in his head as I’m tucking him into bed. Mulling over the things he’s grateful for that day.

“Dadda, can I tell you one more thing?”

“Sure, bud. What’s up?”

“I just wanted to say thank you for asking that guy at the driving range if they had golf clubs I could use someday. I just wanted to say thank you for asking him that.”

My little detective rolls over and gives me a hug goodnight.