Rights? What rights?

This post is being pulled out of drafts ’till I can post some other news which I have been waiting to post…

A month and a half ago, Cait wrote about a conversation she’d had with Mrs. Yong. Mrs. Yong said that it’s so much easier to deal with a sleepless newborn if you give up your right to sleep.
That’s stuck with me. We don’t have a baby in our house, but we do have siblings and duties. And sometimes that means putting aside my “rights” of practicing when I want to practice, or doing my chores when I want to, or having an undisturbed quiet time (It never happens if I wait for it). When that happens, it’s a constant struggle of wills – what I want against what a sibling wants or what is necessary.
But the tables turn when I give up my supposed “rights” of the “I want -“‘s. Life is so much easier.
When I give up my rights, I’m more willing to do anything.
This comes bit by bit at home, I don’t have to think about it a whole lot. But I got lots of practice giving up my rights when we were in Lebanon.
On the car rides to and from Beirut, I was sandwiched between two boys, ages 5 and 7. I wanted to do Sudoku. They wanted to draw in my notebook (which was on my lap so it didn’t fall apart) or play Roshambo (with me or each other. Again, I was in the middle…). I endured thirty minutes of waiting, hoping they would decide to do something on their own. Nobody wanted to play 20 Questions again, and they kept wanting to play with each other.
I was fed up, and pulled out my Sudoku book, told the boys to do something on their own, and started working. Two things happened. First, the boys were extremely unhappy and restless. Second, I thought about why I was doing Sudoku at that very moment.
Sudoku and I… sometimes I like it too much. This was one of those moments. So I threw down my book, and said “Ok, Christopher, I’ll play roshambo with you.”
I did.
I got a very red hand (that kid slaps hard).
But I also got lots of laughter.
Then I decided my hand was too red to play anymore, and so I said I was done.
So the boys held hands across my lap and started to play.
They hit me more than they hit each other.
But in the end, I enjoyed it so much more than I would’ve playing Secludo.

Life is so much easier when you remember that the only right you have is to “fry in hell,” as Mr. Anand said yesterday.
I don’t have a right to my Saturday mornings writing blog posts and replying to emails on the computer.
I don’t have a right to an hour of oboe practice every day.
I don’t have a right to live.
I don’t have a right to be saved by God.

Yet He saved me anyway. He withheld my only right and gave it to the One who was God incarnate.
|I am forever thankful and in love with Him.


2 thoughts on “Rights? What rights?

  1. Heather says:

    So true Kyleigh! And I can tell you what, you’re already in great practice for being married! I knew it going into marriage, so I was prepared for it–but sometimes it takes a very deliberate purposefulness to give up “my right” of something in order to do something else for Justin. For example, if I had my way, I’d work on my novels all day–but to do something for Justin, I clean, bake, cook, and make sure that when he comes home from work he has a clean house, good food, and a smiling wife.
    I think one of the simplest joys of life is doing something for someone you love on a regular basis


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