There are plenty of days when things go just plain south.
But then there are days that remind me why we have chosen to do what we do around here.
This morning my little Cowboy lost it when I asked him to come down and start his math work at the desk in my room. I CANNOT stand it when my SON cries for such reasons as this. I want to offer grace, and kindness, but if I'm honest, I just bubble up inside because I have something in me that says my seven-year-old boy shouldn't be wailing like a dying animal. We are at a cross-roads in his growing up where I'm thinking now is the time to practice a little self control over his emotions and learn to handle things without a puddle of tears. It's this weird balance where I want to love on him when he needs tender care, but I want him to learn to buck up when there is genuinely no good reason to be carrying on.
So as he sat at his desk and wailed, I tried with ALL my might to not lose it on him.
I asked him why he was crying.
He told me.
I chatted with him a bit as to why that was not a good reason to be crying.
He cried harder.
I wanted to yell.
Instead I felt prompted in my heart to set him in my lap and just hug him.
My pride fought back with a resounding, "that's ridiculous."
My thoughts then went to, "Why on earth not?"
So I did. I sat down in his chair and I hugged him.
Then again I felt prompted to ask him if he wanted me to pray for him.
Again, something in me felt terribly resistant.
I was annoyed.
I hate praying when I'm annoyed because it feels soo awkward.
But again, I managed to get the words out,
"Buddy, would you like me to pray with you?"
Then the strangest thing happened. My son's entire body softened in my lap and he stopped crying, and he took a deep breath, and I began to pray,
"Lord, I don't know how to encourage my Siah in these moments. I need your help. I know that sometimes the things I ask him to do aren't his favorite things, but I pray that you would help to push through even the tasks that aren't his favorite. I pray that you would give me patience and a listening ear. Help me not to jump to anger, but to soften my heart always towards you and towards my Siah. Help us both to know that we really can do all things through Christ who gives us strength. Amen."
I opened my eyes and he was staring right at me.
"I can do this Mom. I'm sorry I fell apart."
I smiled. He smiled.
I hugged him. He hugged me.
He got to work.
There have been so many days as we've walked through home schooling, where I've convinced myself that someone else would surely have more patience than I do. And the truth is, it's probably true. There have been so many days when I question whether I am "fun enough," whether I am able to wear both hats of "Mom" and "Teacher" well. There are so many days where I simply question and wonder about almost everything.
But then there are days like today.
Days when I remember that outside our home, no one else can take my son's heart issues to Jesus the way we can in our home. This space provides an environment to be continuously growing towards the One and only One, who can truly strengthen us to do all things.
Today, a tender touch, and a heartfelt prayer, and my Siah and I were both ready to try again. And the best part is... it's not because this Mama is so spiritually great and on top of things. More often than not, I have to battle my thoughts to make the right choices and get my kids and myself to let down our pride so that we can see the daily power of Jesus in our home. I did not want to pray. I wanted to yell. How ironic?
This time together under this rickety tin roof, grants us ample opportunity for praise, not perfection. And on the days when I'm expecting perfection, it's often because I have forgotten the One who is worthy of all my praise.
So thankful for the GREAT days. There are many!