A few years ago, we went thru a period with Reynolds, that was especially trying. The Lord has gifted him with a very strong-willed spirit, and while I know childhood years can be extremely trying {hello, current situation}, I also know that with guidance, proper discipline and love, he will grow into a respected and beloved leader. That’s my prayer, at least.
I remind myself of those things on a night like tonight where things just kind of went sideways with him. I can’t even remember what happened, but his punishment was that he was going to miss out on reading a fun book, that Eliza Jane had picked out; Story time was moving to her room, and he was being sent to bed.
Things can escalate rather quickly with Reynolds, when he gets mad/upset and tonight was no different. Shouts of “you’re the worst parents I’ve EVER had!” came bellowing from his bedroom and I think I mumbled under my breath {or maybe even out loud}, “RIGHT. ‘Cuz we’re the ONLY parents you’ve ever had.”…..
I’m really good at come-backs.
Then he invited himself into Eliza Jane’s room, where, trying to be kind, I told him he could listen from the corner and promptly showed him his spot. Unhappy with my designated seat for him, we had another showing of the red-face so he was escorted back to his bedroom where again, he yelled about how I was the WORST. And even that he hated me, and he knew I didn’t love him.
Calmly, I asked him if he wanted to pray, or recall any of the truths he’s learned at any of the camps he’s attended the last couple of weeks via church. He promptly put his hands over his ears and shouted that no, he didn’t want to pray and NO, he wasn’t trying to remember ANYTHING.
I told him he would go without TV for the rest of the week since he was being so unkind and disrespectful by both word and action, at which point he shouted louder and cried harder.
Remembering back to my own childhood, I can’t recall a time that either I, or my brother ever screamed such hurtful words at either of our parents. After it was all said and done, and he was left in his room angry and hurt, I went and sat on my bed…sad and hurt.
What have I not done well. Or right, even. What can be done better.
He started down the hall towards me with a scour on his face, and was met by Andrew, who told him he wasn’t allowed to get near “my wife” with that look on his face. He tried again, and I guess at that point I reached for my Bible, knowing it was my only source of anything, and he said to Andrew something like, “I’m not going in there since she has her Bible.”
I started reading Psalm 32. It was just the one I turned my Bible open to…not by happenstance I’m sure.
A moment later, Reynolds appeared, with his own Bible in hand.
He said he was sorry. He asked for a flashlight…so that he could read his Bible in his room, in his bed. Andrew found him one and once given the flashlight, he asked, “but what should I read?”
“The Psalms are a good place to start…” I told him that if he opened his Bible in the middle, he would almost certainly hit a Psalm…and then to pick one and read it.
He crawled up in the bed with me, and asked if I would read one to him.
We read the 23rd Psalm…and talked about how God is our Shepherd. He cares for us. He loves us when we are unlovely or when we go down the wrong path.
He hugged me for a 3rd time, and I asked him, in his embrace, “Do you really know that I love you?”
“Yes m’am.”
Moments later he walked downstairs and apologized to Andrew. He even acknowledged his punishment of no TV for the rest of the week. And then he went to his room, with flashlight and Bible in hand.
I wonder in the really hard and super crappy moments if I’m failing miserably at being a parent.
But then Jesus. He shows me in little things, that turn out to be very big and beautiful things, that He’s got me. He’s got my parenting, He’s got my baby…right where He wants us to be.
