Still learning “mothering”

His sister came and tattled. Tattling isn’t good, but I had to agree that his “sassiness” needed correction.

The “crisis” came just as most crisis come around here…a mile a minute, just before supper, and in the midst of a million other things.

I was frazzled, rattled, and ready to be “done” with miles yet to go before calling it a day. I. Felt. Impatient.

I meant to deal with the *sin* swiftly, firmly, and probably would try to “put the fear of God” into this little guy. Of course I wasn’t in the proper frame of mind to discipline nor correct – but I won’t admit that. I’m the mama. I’m in charge, and I’m almost always right, you know. Besides. I have a zero tolerance policy for sassiness.

I put my hand on the back my six year old son’s neck. My fingers slid over to his shoulder. I was standing over him, hoping to clear this up quickly. For some reason, I did not grab his shoulder firmly, as I sometimes do, and my fingers brushed up against a lymph node on his neck.

That bump stopped me, took me back in time. He has always had this lymph node that stands out on his neck. When he was an infant who struggled so severely with wheat intolerance, the node was perpetually swollen, huge. Even now, though he seems strong and healthy, this lymph node will swell when his body is fighting something.

I remembered the fragility of my infant, the preciousness of life, and how much this boy meant to me. All of that, in an instant. God humbled me, and changed my approach.

He said, “Yes. He needs correction. Firm correction. But do it in a nicer way.”

So I did. I got down on my knees and got his attention. I looked right in his eyes and would not let him look away. My voice was firm, but quiet.

“Josiah. This morning you told me that you loved me. Do you really?”

He nodded, “Yes.”

“If you love me, you must obey me. When I call you, you must come. No attitude. No sassiness. Do you understand?”

Again, wide eyed, thinking through this “If you love me you obey me,” business.

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

I really think he did understand. I hugged him and we both felt so good.

So while I mess up and fail as a parent many times a day, and while I will still mess up tomorrow (but hopefully less than today), this time I got the message. “This child I’ve loaned you is precious. Disciple him because you love him, because you want him to love me.”

Give me ears to hear you, Jesus, everyday, regarding how I am to raise each individual child. Grant me tenderness mixed with wisdom, that I may also obey you out of love.