It’s Friday, which means Susanne is hosting her Friday Fave Five carnival at Living to Tell the Story. I’m thinking of introducing a new Friday carnival in keeping with my current emotional state; something like Friday’s Whiny Woes. How do you think that would fly with the bloggy crowd? Such self pity is sure to garner many readers!
Never one to knock herself out to garner readers, I’ll tell you up front: I’m whiny. I’m sad. I’m more-than-melancholy. In fact, I want to run away. Hide. Quit. Cry.
Or, all of the above.
I had a rotten night last night, a tug of war of wills with my youngest son, the second such encounter of the week. The Great Meltdown Revisited. My husband was out of town, so this battle I fought solo and like all such battles, it was not pretty. There was screaming (both of us), crying (mostly me) and outright defiance (not me).
I hate it. Hate it and hate myself because of it. This morning I am still reeling from the encounter–feeling empty, broken, ashamed and downright awful. I know, I know, he should obey. He was plainly warned that there are consequences to disobedience and I stood my ground in defense of those consequences (established during the The First Great Meltdown Monday), though I wanted desperately to give in out of sheer exhaustion from the war of the wills.
I stood my ground, I just didn’t stand it well.
My youngest, to his credit and the only thing he did right last night, eventually hugged me and apologized of his own accord. That is, once he realized he had made me cry. (Note to self: play the crying card early) After he hugged me, he then asked if he could watch tv (which was the whole point of the argument to begin with–he is nothing if not stubbornly persistent).
We narrowly dodged another meltdown. Maybe he was as tired as I.
My kids are sinners, no doubt about it. Their mom is too, chief among them. I wish my kids had a better mom, one who doesn’t lose it, one who never screams, one who could maintain her calm, one who speaks only what is edifying in an edifying tone of voice. I wish I knew what to say and what to do and how to parent with wisdom and grace. Sometimes I am overcome by my failures as a mom, by my inadequacies and my many mess ups. Sometimes I think to myself: I cannot do this another day, much less another decade and then some. The rest of my life, moms who are older and wiser tell me.
I’m worn out and weary, I stand condemned by my own failures. I do what I don’t want to do–I scream and yell, I lose my temper, I fail to be the mom I ought. What I want to do, I don’t. Is there freedom for moms like me? In my shame and my woe I remember Paul’s question in Roman 7: Who will set me free?
Paul’s answer: Christ alone.
In Christ I am set free. Free! No condemnation, but forgiveness. Redemption. Grace. Mercy. After a rotten night, I am humbled and grateful that His mercies are new every. single. morning. Every morning!
I am unworthy. I do not deserve His pardon. Didn’t He see me last night? He did, and His Spirit does His good work of bringing conviction today. I confess. I repent. And I know His glorious mercy poured out anew on this humble mom.
To God be the glory.