Broken

I'm not even sure where to begin. The reality was I had told him not to play with it. I had explained, as I had so many times before, that not all things were meant to be played with. As we were cleaning up the fort that had taken over the living room, I saw the pieces on the floor. He had disobeyed and taken it off the door and now it was broken. Useless. Destroyed.

I'd like to tell you what happened next was a mother-son heart-to-heart conversation that was life-changing. Instead I have to humbly admit I lost it. The hardcore truth is I was beyond angry, frustrated, exasperated. I don't like the gremlin I can turn into when this child of mine pushes me to the limits. Ashamedly this is me.

I could sit here and make excuses and tell you it's his oppositional defiance or the repeated times I have to ask over and over...and over again. I could try to justify my reaction with years of built-up frustration combined with the difficulties in finding ways to reach him so he'll understand. But the bitter truth is I'm the parent. I'm the adult. I'm supposed to be Spirit-filled and Spirit-led. If I'm a new creation in Christ, then I'm doing an awful job at representing His transforming power by my actions as a mother.

It wasn't a costly possession. It was something I had taken the time to make which made it even more special to me. Yet here I was placing more value on an object over my child and my testimony. The harsh truth was I already didn't feel well, was operating on very little sleep due to his sister's antics last night, and I was tired of the hours of fighting and bickering and squabbling I'd already endured between my two little blessings. I was riddled with insecurities and covered up in self-doubt. As a leader and business-woman, I thrive on knowing and operating well within my strengths. As a mom, I seem to always come up short. It was the perfect storm for a combustible explosion. My flesh's response to not deal with something well was now the overwhelming force causing the volcano inside of me to erupt, revealing the insecurities where the enemy had been taunting me all day.

I'm decidedly resolved to be transparent because even if I am the only one (although I feel confident I'm not) it's important to know I'm not stuck here. I'm not proud of my reaction. I'm sorrowful that his sin turned into my own fall - down the slippery slope of regret and shame, all because I couldn't gain control of my emotions and my tongue.

My son came to me and apologized for his disobedience. Remorsefully, I gave him my own apology for my outburst. I had a right to be upset. I didn't have a right to sin in my anger. He wanted to know if the decoration could be fixed. I had to explain it couldn't. His outburst of tears reassured me of his remorse but it was important he knew our actions have consequences. I of all people should know the depth of wounds that words can deliver.

I wish I could tell you this is the first and last time - for both of us. It wasn't the first. It may not be the last. What I know is His redeeming grace is enough to cover each time and His strength is mine to claim in my weakness. Some things can't be fixed, but praise God just as the Father-daughter relationship was an extension of His loving grace and forgiveness to me, so was this mother-son relationship able to be mended.


This is the follow up post: http://carriehispraises.blogspot.com/2018/01/they-say-it-takes-village.html

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