.......that when it comes to parenting there is no easy way out; and that is the point.

Potty training.

Anyone who's ever been through it instinctively knows you need offer no more of an explanation that those two powerful words. They are, quite simply, enough said.

My daughter E is, at a few months shy of turning 3, more than ready. She shows all the sign and grasps all the concepts. And, in actuality, things started out really, really well.

But then the fear set in; the illogical, irrational fear. I'm told it's a common fear. Maybe even, in a certain way, an understandable one. But because E can never, ever do anything the regular way and she seems determined to always keep me on my toes (and my knees) instead of just balking at the whole 'using the big potty' idea, she's decided to just quite going 'potty' completely.

That's right, folks. My daughter is on strike.

Unfortunately for her nature is not on her side. Therefore the strike is relatively short lived. Especially after I force all kinds of yummy food and drink on her. But it's a strike she is bound and determined to take up every single day. And to maintain, for as long as physically possible, with tearful, willful, discomfort-inflicting resolve.

So we live in the bathroom these days. We sit and sit and sit. I read books and sing songs and discuss why God made our bodies to go 'potty'. E bounces her legs up and down, holds onto the toilet seat with a death grip and literally turns red in the face as she tries her hardest to resist the inevitable; no, not going to the bathroom. Though she is doing that as best she knows how, what she's really doing is much more profound. She's resisting growing up.

And it's because she's begun to realize that all too depressing truth each and every one of us must unavoidably face: it sucks!

Don't we all want to stay little; don't we all want to stay young and innocent and unaware of what really awaits us?

But we can't. And despite her tremendous efforts, neither can E.

As a parent I can do my best to help her along the way. But it is no straight-forward task and there is no easy way out. I cannot do the work of growing up for her. I cannot change the consequences or outcomes of nature. And I've begun to realize I can do precious little to soften the blow that life lived, in a sinful world, is destined to deliver.

I wish it were different. I really do. In the case of potty training I can read all the articles and try all the techniques. I can join every online forum out there. I can bribe or threaten, cheer or nag. I can delay the whole thing for 6 months or another year. (Though really I can't. Because she doesn't like wearing diapers anymore than she likes using the 'potty'.) But in the end there is going to be some other aspect of growing up that she doesn't like; that's hard; that frightens her.

And thus, the circle is completed. As I, too, through this whole thing grow up. As I am forced to realize being a parent is hard and frightening. As I call my own mom, full of doubts and uncertainties and questions. As she comforts me with the same words I say to E; "I know honey, and I am so sorry."

There is a deeper, more infinite lesson waiting to be discovered here. It is the truth that life is hard, growing up is hard, being a parent is hard but we can't give up. Yes, it would be easier if we did. But we can't. Because love doesn't give up. And more critically God doesn't give up. He never has. Even when it cost him more than any of us could ever imagine paying. Even when we throw all of his efforts back in his face. He doesn't give up.

And neither will I.