Try Again

It’s 5:30am and I can already hear my children chatting with one another in their room. 

This isn’t a one-off morning. This is a regular occurrence. Thankfully, our children (for the most part) are comfortable staying in their room until it is officially “wake up time” (thank you, Hatch!).

6:15 hits and I walk into their room, after a deep breath and some reminders to smile and have a good attitude. Sometimes I’m greeted with almost immediate complaining that they need to clean up the mess of toys and books that they have made all on their own. Then there’s the battle of getting them dressed and brushing teeth and getting down the stairs for breakfast. 

In an attempt to get out the door before 6:45, I have to ask/tell Ruth at least three times most mornings to get her shoes on. And then she wants to put everything in her backpack to carry up to school (I, inevitably wind up carrying her bag and other accessories). As we walk up the hill to school, I have one kid who is anxious he’s going to be late and one kid who is competing for slowest walk up to school. And, on top of all that, we somehow always end up in a line of ants that seem to be tasked with exploring our feet and biting us silly. 

After successfully dropping Paul off, it’s time to trek back down the hill with Ruth which, again, can take 2-3 business days. And that’s all before 7:30am! 

Most days I feel like I’m trying to hold back a volcano from erupting with masking tape.  I’m over here trying to create the appearance of patience on top of an overwhelmed heart.

“Okay… be patient. Be loving. Be calm. Be a good mom.”

I worry what my reactions are doing to my kids in the long run. 

I start wondering:

What is my tone teaching them?

What is my sarcasm teaching them?

What happens to their confidence when Mama is constantly irritated?

What does my behavior teach them about conflict?

About forgiveness?

About God?

But there’s something beautiful on the flip side of this…

In my imperfections, I’m also teaching my kids what it looks like to say:

I was wrong.

I’m sorry.

Will you forgive me?

I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way.

Let’s try again. 

And that’s discipleship too. 

I used to think being a good mom looked like being gentle and kind, baking and cooking, homeschooling and homesteading. All good things! But I’m learning that being a good mom might actually mean being present with your kids, showing them that you aren’t perfect—owning up to it and seeking forgiveness, and pointing them to Jesus in the way you live your life. 

I think there’s so much beauty in being able to catch yourself, apologize, and start over.

For example, one night after putting the kids to bed, they were screaming and fighting and I angrily opened their door, told them to be quiet and go to bed, and closed the door harder than I would have liked.

Immediately after, I took a deep breath and went back into their room. I looked at them both and said, “I love you. I’m sorry. I was frustrated, but my reaction wasn’t okay. Will you forgive me?”

And my kids, in their infinite kindness and goodness, forgave me. Graciously. We hugged and kissed, and I left the room. This time, closing the door gently. 

We often hear that children are so resilient, but I think we can get it into our heads that we’re going to ruin them if we mess up. 

I wish my responses were slower. That instead of me reacting, I would respond. 

I wish I could step back and really look at my child… see why they are asking the question or saying the thing—really get to the heart of it—and respond to that. 

Instead of: WHY ARE YOU ASKING ME THIS AGAIN?! learning to ask: Why is my child asking me this?

Instead of reacting to the behavior, trying to see the person underneath the behavior. 

One of the challenges in this season is that I’m starting to see my own frustration reflected back at me. And, guess what? It’s not pretty. 

But, again, God’s grace is sufficient! I need to be meeting regularly with Jesus throughout the day, seeking the Holy Spirit’s wisdom and guidance in the moment, meditating on the Word so that, when these moments inevitably come and I fall short, I can respond the way God would want me to—the way that best loves and guides my kiddos. 

I used to think constantly changing between irritation and tenderness would make me look inconsistent. Now I’m realizing that being able to stop, recognize that I was wrong, apologize, and choose love again isn’t hypocrisy. 

It’s repentance. 

Show yourself some grace and turn it around.

Lay it at the feet of Jesus, friend.