Oh snap!

Sometimes motherhood is a bear.  It seems it is not enough to merely confess that I have no idea what I am doing.  I think it is more accurate to say that, indeed, I am part of the problem.  I know what to do and do not do it and leave undone the things which should be done.  (I'm pretty sure there is a prayer of confession that says just that.)  Were I to go to a deserted island, a perfect utopia, an Eden, upon my arrival chaos would insue.  Motherhood really is the blind leading the blind.  And folks, we are lost.  Lost, I tell you.  I am ever so grateful that God is far more concerned about the hearts of my kids than I am. And in fact, He has the power to do something about it and has done it.  It is not flippantly that I say "Hallelujah!" to this notion.  The big work of parenting, the dealing with sin and anger and selfishness, has been done and not by me.  Can I get an Amen?!?

I've come to this place by way of my son's mouth.  In typical 2 year old fashion, Henry is a biter.  In fact, last week at Bible Study, I saw a little girl in Henry's class with a big gash on her face and thought, "Whoa, dude, I'd hate to see the other guy."  Imagine my horror when upon picking him up, I find out that Henry is the other guy.  We explained to Henry that a)we don't bite, b)we especially don't bite girls, c) we especially don't bite on the face where everyone can see it, and d) we especially don't bite the daughters of Judges.  We laughed at the last two instructions, but as I did, I recognized that what was really troubling me, more than my son's own errant behavior, was my attaching my own value to it. The fact that I was more concerned about what people would think of me as a parent than I was the selfish heart of my son.  Because it is all about me, right?

Drat.  Double drat.

And so we are attempting to love him and discipline him through this phase without giving weight to our own embarrasment and shame that our kid is the biter.  This morning in class he pushed a kid.  I explained to the mom that I didn't mean to seem excited my son hit her son, but that at least we were moving in the right direction.  Apparently, in my mind, pushing is a more socially acceptable form of dealing with one's own anger, right?  I mean, he is two. 

It has not gone unnoticed that his temper arrived about the same time as Gracie.  And he does stuggle finding the right words sometimes.  I'd like to think that once he gets a better grasp on his language this will all go away.    I've even bandied about the idea teaching him to cuss, because let's face it, isn't that what I do?  I think I'm going to teach him to say, "Oh snap!" when he is mad.  Because it isn't crass and quite frankly, it would be down right hilarious.  I tried to tell him to say, "Oh man!" but then he told me he was going to act like Swiper the fox.  No, Henry, I don't want you to be a thief. 

Someone also suggested that perhaps Henry does not know he is hurting his friends and that I needed to "bite him back."  I understand the logic in this.  And I appreciate that you think my son will be loving once he knows he is hurting people.  The problem with this idea is that I've met his mother and I've seen the way she speaks to his father and his grandparents.  And if my own behavior is any indicator, education will not be my or my son's salvation.  The fact that my words hurt is one of the reasons I say them when I am mad or when you get in my way, or when perhaps, you are unaware that this is the portion of the day where you are to be worshipping me. 

The issue at hand is that my son and I both have a problem.  A problem SO big and grotesque that God Himself had to step in and do something about it.  We're sinners.  OK, let me just confess my own sins, here.  I am a sinner.  Not just because of what I say when I am mad, but because of who I am.  A fellow parent, trying to encourage me, said that I just need to teach him a way to accept not getting his own way and how to deal with his anger.  Are there classes where they teach this?  I need this class.  If I wait around for Henry to be okay with not getting his way, we'll still be waiting when I die.  I'm not okay with not getting my own way.  In fact, I've created this whole mythical place called Elizabethtown where I am Lord apparent. 

See my problem?  See why I am the blind leading the blind?

So I am coming at this from a different way.  Yes, I am his mother and authority figure.  This authority comes not from my own wisdom or deserving of it, but from God.  Yet, I also pray to be my son's Sister.  And it is with this freedom I am approaching the situation.  Every time Henry and I meet in a bathroom to repeat the phrase "No biting" and pray for a kind and gentle mouth, I am adding my name to the prayer.  That in as much as I list things that God gave us mouths for--laughing, singing, telling the truth, praising God, eating candy, I am preaching to myself these very things.  Every time I tell Henry to ask for forgiveness for biting, I ask for forgiveness as well.  I'm not a biter, it is just my own need to be God manifests itself in more social acceptable ways--sarcasm, silence, and some phrases far more caustic than "Oh, snap!".  And yet, as I'm finding out, these ways are not just unacceptable to God, but down right offensive. I don't think that God really cares if I change my words from four letter words to the faux curse words parents love--fudge, dagnabit, cheese and rice, WTF (or What the Kiffin in my Tennessee fan mode...)--because beneath these cutesy cuss words lies the bile in my heart.  And that bile is what is offensive.  I can wrap it in a pretty bow, but it still gift wrapped poo.

But, oh snap!  How great a thing it is to know that God is still forming His image in me.  That while I am not content to let Henry bite all his classmates, God is not content to let me bite either.  That His love for me and my son is so intense and passionate, He has provided a way, in Jesus, to receive ample mercy.  That we are not only forgiven, but made RIGHT!  (Because being right is sooooo much better than simply being forgiven.)

Dear Lord, Heal the mouths of the Phillips family.  Forgive us for wanting to be You.  Thank you that we are not.