lt's an online game that has no great purpose beyond mindless entertainment. Use your finger to move a colored candy one adjoining space to connect with at least 2 matching candies and you've got the concept.
Some levels of the game are much more difficult than others. It may take only minutes to complete one level while it could take close to forever to complete the next one.
I can't explain why it's addictive. Why do I sometimes sit and play it until all my lives are gone instead of being productive? Those baby books are not going to write themselves, and the floor looks disgusting. But the candies are waiting to be crushed. And if I play it one more time tonight, I might just win the level and advance to the next.
It's colorful, mindless entertaining activity. As a stay-at-home mom of a needy toddler and a special needs preschooler, I can use a little mindless to unwind during nap time or at the end of the day. That must be the reason I play the game.
At least that was my belief before now.
My special needs son is awesome. He works hard everyday to reach goals that some would think were unattainable for a child with autism. I have seen him work at being social, using his words to communicate, potty training, sharing, etc. The past year of ABA therapy has proved to help him greatly.
But with autism comes setbacks which can be so disheartening after watching your child successfully achieving a goal that was once so difficult. My son recently has experienced a few of them. He doesn't want to eat at "school." He has long meltdowns over cleaning up his toys. And he's had a couple of potty accidents after going over a month without any.
Tonight, I finally lost my cool when he had his second potty accident in a row. "You tell me when you have to go potty," I yelled as I put a clean diaper on my almost-4-yr-old. He whimpered. I marched him back to his room where I closed the book I had been reading to him and told him firmly to get in the bed. "I'm very disappointed in you," I said before finally giving him a hug goodnight and turning out the light.
Not my best parenting moment. In fact, I call it a mommy fail.
I sat across the dark room watching my son try his best to keep from closing his eyes and give into the night time. The glow of the nightlight lit his sweet, innocent face. I thought about his birthday party invitations I needed to address, and I wondered how 4 years had passed so quickly. I was reminded of the last things I had said to him before putting him to bed.
Cue the water works.
And the enormous wave of guilt.
How could I have treated him this way? What kind of mother was I to have lost my cool like that at the end of the day? Worst of all...did he question my love for him? How dare I show my anger toward him instead of channeling it toward autism?
I felt so unworthy to be a mom in that moment. I wanted to give up on potty training my son. I was exhausted of trying the same methods over and over if it meant we were still going to keep seeing setbacks. I wanted to quit.
Then I turned on my phone and opened a game of Candy Crush. "Why do I even like this game?" I thought to myself. "And why am I still playing this same level that I've been trying to win for weeks?"
And then I realized the life lesson in the game.
I play it for the challenge it presents me. I play it because no matter how difficult the level might be or how many tries it takes, I have hope that I can attain the goal of winning the level and moving forward to the next one.
I love the game because it is a small representation of what my son has to do every day.
He works and works toward a milestone until he reaches it and can move on to the next. It's my job to walk through these long days with him. And as disappointing as it is to realize that we may have not yet "won the level," I have to love him through the difficult times of trying and trying and trying again.
Because I have a hope that if we try even just one more time, we might reach that goal today.
The Bible says, "We also glory in our sufferings, because suffering produces perseverance; perseverance character; and character hope." (Romans 5:3-4).
As crazy as it sounds, I believe God used Candy Crush to encourage me tonight to not give up hope. To keep fighting the good fight, no matter how difficult or frustrating. To try to be the best parent I can be again and again and again and again. To persevere in His strength.
I may not move on to the next level tonight, but I will keep trying and hanging on to the hope that this next try might result in success. And I will cheer my children to do the same throughout their lives.
Now it's time to do something productive...
Beautifully said!
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