Difficult Conversations

Photo found on Pinterest via andruloyd.tumblr.com

This is one of my favorite Anne of Green Gables quotes. One that hopes to get it right tomorrow.

 

This week we have had an unusual number of difficult conversations with our kids.

I needed to ask forgiveness (and received it) when I blew it in a surge of PMS anger and frustration when one son fought me over whether or not he could wear shorts in freezing weather. His argument was that he would be indoors at the gym most of the evening at church and wanted to wear shorts for game time. This was logical. However, he wasn't wearing gym shorts. He was wearing the type of shorts that often shread in half during game time. I was tired of ruined clothes. I was tired of him refusing to wear a team T-shirt that he felt was too snug. I was tired of hard-headed, argumentative children who debate logically instead of comply with my parental wisdom and wishes. I was tired of battling my tween daughters who either have so much homework (or so little time management skills) that they were not prepared (again) to attend Wednesday night youth group. And, to intensify the drama, we were having this heated conversation moments before we needed to leave. "Fine!" I swore. Not only in front of my son. But at my son. Shameful. I tore the contested T-shirt off of him, deferred to his choice of shorts, threw him a hoodie, and we stormed to the car and drove off in a huff.

Ironically, and somewhat comically, as we were on the way to church we were reviewing the Bible verses the kids were to have memorized. Romans 3:23 was on the list. "For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God". I had just given them an excellent sermon illustration, as well as opening a discussion on how even angels are capable of sin since 1/3 of heaven fell to pride. God redeemed the heated trying-to-get-out- the-door-moment and used it for good. He pointed them back to Himself. We got a new team T-shirt in a bigger size to ward off next week's battles. All was not lost. They saw their mother explode. They also heard her ask their forgiveness and gave it...with the condition that they be extended the same grace if they were to blow it anytime in the near future. (Darn smart kids.)

A few hours later, walking back out of the church through the freezing parking lot, I observed that my laid-back friend's child had on shorts and a t-shirt on and neither he or she didn't seem the least bit bothered. Come to think of it, her kids run around on the pavement barefooted on frigid New Year's Eve and she doesn't even bat an eyelash. I made a mental note to try and become less tightly-wound and more laid-back.

More grave issues were at hand. Another afternoon I asked my older children if they knew what cutting was and were they aware that five eight graders in my child's middle school academic magnet suffer from the desire to self-mutilate. We sat at our kitchen table and talked about stress, and depression, and bi-polarity, and drug addiction, and alcoholism, and suicide. They soberly understood that another seventh grade child had chosen to take his life at a nearby middle school last week. When I asked my son if he understood why we were having these conversations he replied, "Yes, but I don't think anything like that will ever happen in our family." I told him that I prayed that it wouldn't, but wanted our conversations to be open and honest and to be vigilant as a family should any warning signs appear.

This hymn echoes my desire to lead my family well.

"Lord, speak to me, that I may speak in living echoes of Thy tone...

O lead me, Lord, that I may lead .... O feed me, Lord, that I may feed Thy hung'ring ones with manna sweet.

O teach me, Lord, that I may teach the precious things Thou dost impart; And wing my words, that they may reach the hidden depths of many a heart.

O fill me with Thy fullness, Lord, until my very heart o'erflow

O use me, Lord, use even me, just as Thou wilt, and when, and where; Until Thy blessed face I see, Thy rest, Thy joy, Thy glory share.

Frances Ridley Havergal (1836-79)