By the end of most days, I feel like I have spent more time negotiating than anyone working toward peace in the Middle East. But here is a sample of one:
Evangeline: Mama, I want a popsicle. I want an orange one.
Me: Well, we're about to go take a nap, so we can't have a popsicle right before nap.
Evangeline: Mama, I have a deal for you. I can have one, no two licks of a popsicle, and then you can put it away and save it for me until after nap.
Me: Ok. (How can I argue that?!) (And she lived up to her deal - two licks then handed it to me to save for her.)
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Sometimes She Listens
One of the most frustrating things about trying to raise an almost three-year-old is feeling like she never really listens when I am trying to teach her something. She hears what she wants to hear, sure, but any instruction especially regarding behavior or attitude just seems to float right past her.
Recently, I had a glimmer of the mercy of God, specifically, that all of my words are not wasted.
The basic scene: I was completely out of sorts. I had no patience, I had no grace for my child who was pushing every limit she could. And I lost my temper. I knew I was wrong and that I needed to pull it together, so then I was mad that I was mad. I yelled and screamed and honestly scared her. She cried and curled up on the couch quietly while I stomped and huffed around the kitchen trying to calm down.
And then, Evangeline got up and quietly walked into the kitchen with her head tilted downward, and she said, in a sweet, soft, slow voice, "Mama, you shouldn't get upset like that. You shouldn't get angry and lell (yell) like that. Because, you are so sweet and you know," she paused, "God made you and He doesn't want you to be upset like that. He doesn't like it when you get so upset. So, you shouldn't do that."
By now, I am sitting on the couch with her, stunned, and laid low in my shame. She was right. And here she was, speaking truth in my life with grace. All I could say at the time was, "You're right, baby. He doesn't want me to act like that. And I'm sorry."
For once, she did not just respond to my actions, which as I said, were ridiculous and out of line. She did not repay evil with evil. She confronted me with my sin and melted my hard hard with her gentleness. What a reminder for how I need to respond to her when she is frustrated. What a reminder that His mercy can come through the mouth of my toddler, too.
Recently, I had a glimmer of the mercy of God, specifically, that all of my words are not wasted.
The basic scene: I was completely out of sorts. I had no patience, I had no grace for my child who was pushing every limit she could. And I lost my temper. I knew I was wrong and that I needed to pull it together, so then I was mad that I was mad. I yelled and screamed and honestly scared her. She cried and curled up on the couch quietly while I stomped and huffed around the kitchen trying to calm down.
And then, Evangeline got up and quietly walked into the kitchen with her head tilted downward, and she said, in a sweet, soft, slow voice, "Mama, you shouldn't get upset like that. You shouldn't get angry and lell (yell) like that. Because, you are so sweet and you know," she paused, "God made you and He doesn't want you to be upset like that. He doesn't like it when you get so upset. So, you shouldn't do that."
By now, I am sitting on the couch with her, stunned, and laid low in my shame. She was right. And here she was, speaking truth in my life with grace. All I could say at the time was, "You're right, baby. He doesn't want me to act like that. And I'm sorry."
For once, she did not just respond to my actions, which as I said, were ridiculous and out of line. She did not repay evil with evil. She confronted me with my sin and melted my hard hard with her gentleness. What a reminder for how I need to respond to her when she is frustrated. What a reminder that His mercy can come through the mouth of my toddler, too.
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