I’ve lost my temper with the kids twice so far today, and it’s not even 9am.
Yesterday, after a volatile round of bickering, I screamed them all to their rooms while I tried to cool off. Then I gathered them up again and gave them a speech something like this:
“Look at our dogs; you love both of them, right? Now I want you to imagine you just came up on them fighting; you see them wrestling, hear Skip yelp , and notice his ear is bleeding. Then you see Skip take a huge bite of Copper, then Copper smacks Skip across the room and there’s bleeding and whimpering… Imagine how you’d feel if you saw all that. It would be awful, right? Because you love both of them, right? And would it matter who started it? Not at all… it would just plain, hurt, both you and them.
That, kids, is how mom feels when you guys tear each other apart, either with your bodies or with your words. You might think it’s just you all who are involved; but every time you rip and scratch at each other, your hurt your mother too.”
But if you bite and devour one another, watch out that you are not consumed by one another. Galatians 5:15
“I am weary of watching this, you guys. I am frustrated, and I am angry, and I am… just, sad, about what I see happening in this family. Now I need silence so I can think and pray.”
Yes, I know I was laying it on thick. But I just don’t think I am going to make it, if this keeps on going as it is. God, help us!
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Next day, it’s 9am and I’ve screamed at them twice, screaming boiling rage over their stupid, stupid little arguments and how they just refuse to bend to one another, refuse to let the littlest things GO for the sake of peace and quiet and their mother’s sanity, refuse to keep their bodies in check for 60 seconds while I go to the bathroom.
And my outpouring hits a relatively innocent bystander, and she starts crying.
We hug and I apologize.
I walk out the front door, tearful, telling them all I’m taking a walk.
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This house is a training ground for me, too.
And often, a painful part of training is realizing what you can’t do. It’s failing, hard.
Praying, thinking, walking, avoiding eye contact with neighbors.
I consider the prayer I have learned to pray when facing other temptations, and how perhaps, before I scream next time, these words might be the lifeline I need, a mental grasping for the help of God when I’m up against that which I cannot handle on my own...
“Into your hands I commit my spirit. Free me from bondage that I may do Thy will. Place your yoke upon me and make my burden light.”
It feels epic when it’s time to turn around, when I must retrace my steps back to the house, back to the battleground, back to the place where I fail so often. I think, “He set his face towards Jerusalem,” and pray for his help to set my face towards my tiny, yet still impossible cross.
I discover they have done spontaneous, helpful things while I was on my cry-walk. I find the other one to whom my apology is owed. I cannot speak for the tears. Good thing he just needs a hug.
I gather them again, and when I can find my voice, I say, “Guys, remember how I talked about the dogs fighting yesterday and how your fights can be like that? Well… sometimes when I come on those situations I just start kicking both dogs, just to make it all stop. And that’s not OK, and I’m sorry.”
I receive hugs, quiet apologies, and even a soft comfy pillow that she says helps her when she is sad.
They kindly give me leave to finish my prayer/crying/writing in my room. And as I sit here, I realize I cannot wait out the emotions until I am ready to go back to the battle- that I will never be fully ready, never be capable in myself to manage it all with perfect love and wisdom.
God help me do what I am unable to do in myself!
Into your hands I commit my spirit. Free me from selfish impulse that I may do Thy will. Let Your love be the love with which I love these children. Amen.
