Thursday, August 22, 2013
"Epic Parental Failure" were the words Joe and I muttered to each other when we both collapsed on the coach last evening. We sat on the far ends of the coach from each other wallowing in our discouragement and trying to not give into the temptation to blame the other for our failures. Ugh. These were not the failures of losing our tempers with our kids or failing to discipline. These were of the nature of having a 9 year old boy feel completely forgotten by his family after football practice...not once, but twice. And twice in one week....twice two. nights. in. a. row. Granted the first night we were there, but on the other side of the concession stand...for twenty long minutes....each wondering where in the other was...each close to tears. (Someday this will be funny...someday). And the next night we were 2 minutes late, but that boy's faith was shaken that we would show so he took things into control and walked home....where there was no. one. home. And then there have been the failures of this week involving take home folders. My boys have the same. take. home. folder. Yikes....it only took me one week to put one in the wrong backpack, and then had to send a boy to school without his because of my failure. And then the failure of losing children at church. Our church is not that big. How in the world do you lose them at church? And spend 5-10 minutes looking for them? Failures are a reminder of my humanity. And I don't like seeing the pain of my humanity through eyes of my children. I see the hurt and disappointment and fear of it happening again. That is a special kind of humility. But there is also a special kind of grace. A grace that comes from a 9 year old saying...It's ok. I love you. And immediately trusting me to always be there for him. A grace that comes from a 7 year old forgiving my mistake and not at all assuming malice. A grace that is willing to put aside his own hurt because he knows that a hug will feel so much better than the harboring of a bitterness of being let down. A grace that they did not learn from me. Grace from a child. A grace that comes from God. A grace that I need to learn to extend and accept. Praise God for children's patience. And in this area may I begin to reflect them, rather than them reflect me.