Tuesday, April 1, 2014

War and Peace: When WWIII Breaks out in Your Home


Lord, Your goodness is all around me.
 Help me to experience You in and through all my senses today. 
There I will find peace. 
Calm my fears.
Clear my mind. 
Speak peace into my soul.

Not twenty minutes later World War III breaks out between siblings. How can two so young know how to fight so well.
So loud.
So physically?
I feel nothing remotely close to the peace I begged for just minutes before.
Then it hits me like the force of warfare.
Peace amidst the war.
Peace. My should-be-reaction to the sibling war broken out.
I search for it.
Dig for it.
Deep.
Beg for it to reveal itself.

I peel the enemies apart.
I whisper in his ear.
He reluctantly, but obediently, walks to his room.
Head down.
Shoulders slumped.
I can't see the pout curled around his lips, but I know it's there.

She is still fighting.
She balks.
Throws her body in rigid protest at my touch and we make our way to her room.
Perhaps the rungs of her crib feel like prison bars.
I don't blame her.
I tell her that when she is quiet and ready to listen, I will come to her.
Her screams escalate.

I return to the boy's room.
Lie down on the carpet with him.
I feel God's warm love envelope my senses.
Bright warm SONshine through the window.
We talk. I rub his back. He relaxes.

Peace during war.

Not 24 hours later the boy throws a toy in anger.
My heart breaks.
Tears sting my eyes.
I think I may just throw up.
Maybe this act would purge us of the scene he saw unfold the day before.
Me.
My anger.
Yellow rubber boots thrown down the stairs.
In anger.
An adult temper tantrum, not so different from his.

I feel failure, but I can't give into it.
I won't.
I resist the urge to throw up and instead kneel down and ask him to forgive me.
The tears no longer sting my eyes. They fall, hot and heavy down my cheeks.
I was wrong. It is not good to throw things out of anger. I'm sorry I did that. Please forgive me, sweet boy.
He nuzzles his head into the crook of my neck.
Me fowgive you Mommy.
The words and the tears wash away both of our indiscretions.

Lord, help me. I beg You! I fail again and again. You forgive. Again and again. Change me. Help me teach my children a better way.

And with those words, the opportunity to react differently in similar situations arises.
And so continues our human cycle of war and peace.
Taking refuge in HIM and allowing my senses to take in HIS blessings.

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