What Can I Say?

Sometimes when I'm trying to maintain good humor over this whole parenting thing, I say, "Hello?!  Can you hear me?  Is this mic on?"  I usually get these deadpan stares from my children, but it makes my husband smile.  If he's really feeling it, he will cup a hand behind his ear and furrow his brow like he has no idea what I'm saying.  At least he acknowledges that I'm trying to say something, because sometimes with the kids I wonder if I've entered a whole new realm- one where I have no physical presence and I have to do something extreme and poltergeist-ish to get their attention, like throw a book across a room.

Of course, when I wish they weren't listening, they're all ears.  Mutter the word "stupid" as you struggle with the stupid Pack 'n' Play that requires more strength to collapse than any stupid jock has, and everybody comes running to hear your confession and plea for mercy because "we don't say stupid in this house."  We don't.  But I have.  And I've even followed up with a justification like, "Well Mommy can say the word "stupid" because she knows the right way to use it and there is no other way of describing this stupid Pack 'n' Play, but by calling it stupid!"

Stupid.

I have stupid moments like that.  I have whole days filled with stupid.  I say stupid things and do stupid things and I hate my stupid self for them sometimes.  And I wish someone would just hold up some cue cards and direct me through what I am supposed to say and when I am supposed to say it, because it all sounds so brilliant when you read it in one of those stupid parenting books, until you repeat it or forget to repeat it when the opportunity arises.

I know there is power in our words; in what we choose to say and how we say it.  There are thousands of blogs and books and articles telling me what I should be saying and what I should never, EVER say:  Be careful when speaking of appearances to your child; body images are  precarious.  Don't use negative self-talk about your own body in front of your child, but don't forget to tell her she's beautiful.  Just don't tell her too much.  Use your judgement on how often.  When praising your child, be careful to use the right words so as not to imply that your love is contingent on the good behavior.  Stay away from words with negative connotations.  Don't be afraid to say, "No."  When reprimanding your child, be certain to express your dislike for the behavior, while expressing love for the child.  Never use the word stupid; even in describing the behavior, which may very well have been stupid- like giving your baby brother a Polly Pocket shoe to play with.  Make explanations short and concise.  Never say, "Because I told you so!"  Children are growing in logic and understanding; their curiosity demands explanation.  Don't feel like you have to explain yourself all the time; it undermines your authority as the parent who knows best.

Knows best?!  I don't know what I'm doing!  

Try as I may, I've said the wrong thing and I still don't know all of the right things to say and I'm certain I will say the wrong thing many more times and I'll even say what I think is the right thing only to find out years later in a tearful accusation that it was the wrong thing to say.  I have fears of that.  There are moments when I can't sleep because I wonder if today was the day that I permanently scarred my child.  Maybe saying that she can't dress like a princess every day because she's "not actually a princess and I don't have a royal clothing budget so just put on some jeans for crying out loud!" wasn't the best way to encourage her to explore other wardrobe options.

Do these worries consume you other parents?  I am specifically asking the parents that haven't written books confidently telling me that if I just said this my kid will turn out a normal, well-adjusted adult.  I have to imagine that even those parents have said the wrong thing according to their own standards.  The tongue is awfully hard to control even when I have rehearsed all of my lines.  But if there is one message I plead with God that my children hear, it is the message that I so desperately need to hear too.

There is grace.

It's not pre-proportioned.  You can't use it all up, but it's best not to test the limits.  It's abundant and new with every morning.  There is grace when I mess up and there is grace when you mess up too.  We mess up.  Mommies make mistakes.  And kids make mistakes.  And there is grace enough to cover over all of it.  Sometimes we know it's a mistake and we do it anyway.  There's grace for that too.  There is grace for the days when we are not graceful or grace-filled or gracious.  There is grace when we don't want it and grace when we think we don't need it.  There is grace when we forget to ask for it.

I have been the baffled parent who finds herself tongue-tied in the midst of a tantrum.  I have battled ugly words with ugly words.  I have said too little.  I have said too much.  Haven't we all?  There are thousands of words we can say to a child, but there is one message that we must get through.  "For by grace you have been saved through faith.  And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God."  Ephesians 2:8

I believe even when I have said the wrong words, the message of grace can prevail when I humble myself enough to say, "Forgive me."  More importantly, I believe that even when I say the "right" words, it is still grace that saves.  It is not my work, but His.  And His grace is sufficient for me and all of my shortcomings, because His power is made perfect even in my moments of weakness.  I have to remind myself of this when this world tells me that my words can save or sever my child's future.  If I put too much weight on the words that I say, I will forget that there is only one Word that saves.

Grace.  Undeserved.  Inexplicable.  Unequivocal.  By the grace of God, we are saved.  

Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.  Hebrews 4:16

 

Make Me A Vessel

Yesterday was just one of those days.  I haven't had one in awhile, so I suppose I was due.  Matthew didn't nap, and every time there was a hint of hope that I might get a moment's peace, one of the girls would get rowdy and wake him before I could even get him in bed.  I was frustrated and tired and not in the right mood to head to Family Adventure Camp at Heart of the Shepherd.

It was day 3 of our church's form of Vacation Bible School, a highly anticipated event for my children. It is fun for them, but it can be exhausting for me and the kids, so it was no surprise that they were bickering over crayons by the end of the night.  All of the nudging that I felt to turn the moment into a teaching moment and to meet their crankiness with opportunity to show love and service to one another, I simply ignored.  I was just. too. tired.

I excused myself from the table, letting my husband take the lead.  Matthew and I slipped away to a quiet room where I plotted my retaliation.  Should I tell them we are not going to tomorrow's activities? Should I make them give up the privilege of "buying" trinkets with the tickets they were earning throughout the day?  All seemed fair enough.  After all, we were supposed to be learning how to serve others with good attitudes and they certainly weren't bringing their part of the bargain to the table.

Neither are you.  God spoke softly to my heart.

I tried to ignore it and indulge my sorrows some more. This summer has been ridiculously busy.  I haven't had a moment to myself.  The days are a whirlwind of activity and the nights never hold the rest I am promised.  I was tired.  Tired of serving, and coaching, and cheerleading, and disciplining, and thinking of ways to turn disastrous meltdowns into "teaching moments."  I was tired of pulling out the good attitude when the bad one beckoned.  So I grumbled to myself that if my children weren't learning the lesson of serving each other, we had no business being here.  I certainly didn't need to be here to learn how to serve others.  I do it enough.  All. day.  So forgive me, God, but I just want to sit hear and rest for a minute and not do my job.  Don't You get that?!

I sent my husband home with all four of the children, swallowing down some guilt that he would likely have a baby crying for his Mama the whole time while he tried to get the additional three Cranky Pants in bed.  "I'm going to help clean up," I said.  It was a guise of needing to serve others so I could indulge in a different venue where kids weren't the background noise.  

I don't think I was really needed there, but I needed to be there, because God reached out to me, like he often does when I'm throwing one of my temper tantrums.  I had only been free of children for a few minutes, when Kelly (the wife of one of our pastors) told me her 2 year old daughter had something to tell me.  I looked down at her sweet little cherub-like face and she proclaimed, "I said a prayer for you today!"  It blessed me to no end.

And it convicted me.  Why did little Vera pray for me?  Certainly, she didn't sense that I needed it.  If I had asked her, she probably could not have articulated any particular reason.  But I know why she did, because the Kingdom of Heaven belongs to little ones such as her.  Because she was an open vessel for God's love and when He pressed on her heart to pray for me, she didn't make excuses like, "I hardly know her," or, "She might think that's a little weird," or, "She doesn't really deserve it, because she's never really ever done anything for me."  She just followed in child-like trust and obedience, because God had a purpose for her prayer.

As we grow older, we find all sorts of excuses not to do the things that God asks of us.  We mistakenly call them "reasons."  Last night I saw in a little child's simple demonstration, how following God's leading can greatly impact another, beyond what we may even be able to comprehend as we follow through with His request.

When we act in obedience and offer with the right attitude, it is then that God's love is revealed.  Though my "offerings" this week may have appeared sacrificial and even obedient, my attitude was something entirely different.  I harbored in my heart stress, selfish ambition, greed, and anger, but somehow expected it to breed love. I had prefaced each day with a warning that if my kids weren't willing to show me that they deserved to go to Family Adventure Camp, I wouldn't be taking them.  I made it clear that it wasn't necessarily a priority on my list, but it was a service to them, and I expected them to show me how grateful they were for all the additional stress and work each day provided.  I was pouring out an attitude that didn't speak of love and service.  From where did I expect my kids to get the right attitude?

I keep thinking of little Vera, holding her mommy's hand, saying those sweet words to me, and I am humbled by God's grace to reach out to me through this little vessel filled with His love.  I admire the work He can do with a willing attitude.  I had accomplished little the entire week, but in a brief moment, God lifted my spirits and renewed my heart and attitude.

How much can He use me if I refuse to empty myself of sin?  What partnership can His love have with a poor attitude?  How easily I forget. How needful that I be reminded.  How humbling that my messenger was two.  How grateful I am to be emptied and filled all at once.