Our boys have gotten into the bad habit recently of calling names - no
cursing, that's absolutely unacceptable in my book - (and yes, I try try
try not to let the occasional word slip in front of them. I save that
for Facebook. Or occasionally at work really loud in my headset mic when
someone irritates the %$#@ out of me.) The boys prefer names like
butt, or stupid butt, or idiot, or just constant aggravation and
picking. And the worst to me? The insults and belittling of a brother.
Believing what a kid at school says before you believe what your own
brother says. Or bullying just because you can - and maybe feeling a
little small on the inside at that particular moment.
David
tries to remind me that it's normal brother behavior, and I should get a
clearer outside perspective from other families with lots of boys. But
my perspective is very individual, and it comes from a darker place
than my husband has ever had to live. My perspective comes from a home
all too often clouded with loudness, ugliness, and a loneliness that I
could never accurately paint in a picture of words. I don't have those
words. And I don't have the kind of heart to speak that kind of hurt.
So
the constant brother fighting around here hits me in a very tender
place. And this morning I had the mom meltdown that's been a while in
the making. The tears that have been hovering and the growing lump in
my throat all came .... and all it took was one more negative word
from brother to
brother. So after a fleeting thought of packing my bags and leaving
David forever alone to raise the monsters, I prayed the deepest
heart crying prayer that I have in a long time..... a prayer to just to
hear a
little encouragement, to see a little inspiration, a small picture of
something good with these kids. Something to let me know that I've done
something right.
And maybe that's exactly what God needed me
to do today. He needed my heart to break and my tears to finally fall
and to cry out that I can't do this on my own. To admit that I've been
running solely on hope as my energy. To quit trying to rest and refill
on my own. To quit trying to fix everything. Because I can't.
The
end of the story? I saw the pieces of good. I saw brothers sitting
together on the couch reading a book together. I
heard love spoken to each other when they decided to play catch in the
front yard. I watched Sam lay his head in Christopher's lap during the
sermon today. And I watched Christopher be a big brother. (Pause......
Ethan is still cocky and a little big for his britches today. And I
just heard Sam call someone a warthog. And earlier, after church, I
saw him kick Ethan in the rear - but sometimes I just have to look the
other way.)
And for the time being, I've taken away all
technology. No influence from XBOX games, no sarcastic Disney shows
that make it seem OK for kids to be mean,... and all boys, minus those
other influences, were left with playing outside together on a beautiful
afternoon.
may the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart be pleasing to you, my rock and my redeemer. Psalm 19:14
