This week another mom sent me this letter that her friend had written. She gave me permission to print it.
It is a great letter and reminder on why we dont give in. Why we keep on trying to hard.
And its also a picture of what it must be like for Christ to work with us as His children. We fail, fail, fail, but He is always there with his loving arms. Just waiting...
Dear Son,
Parenting is hard.
Today you and Asher were playing with play dough at the kitchen island. The two of you were having a ball - making your own creations of pizza, meatballs, etc. Once you were done, you were going to walk off onto the next thing, but I asked you to come back and pick up the play dough that had fallen to the floor. The deal was that I'd get what was on the counter, but you were to get what was on the floor. It was maybe 5 clumps of play dough. That's all.
You didn't want to.
I asked again, and you started to cry out, "I don't want to!"
A back-and-forth battle raged on for a good 30 minutes: me asking you to pick up the play dough, you coughing...gagging...screaming in agony that you didn't want to. I'd ask again, then inform you that if you didn't obey, I'd give you a spanking. You got lots of spankings. It was will against will.
I asked again. And again. And again. You were exhausted. I was exhausted.
When the screaming turned to snapping back at me in a snoody "no!", I said I'd wash your mouth out with soap. :: Just pick up the play dough, my boy ::
You didn't. You snapped back in a bratty "no."
I washed your mouth out with soap. You hated it.
That strong, iron will finally broke and you picked up the play dough.
After those little colored lumps of dough were in their container, I scooped you up and sat on the couch. We watched the rain fall outside and both of us cried. You had both of your arms around me - holding so tight. Both of our tears were flowing.
Throughout the time we were fighting back and forth, I kept on praying to the Lord, "please...just have him pick up that play dough." I think the good Lord was replying to me ::: Today it is playdough. When he's 16 it will be something far worse. Take care of it today and it will make tomorrow easier. Let it slide today, and tomorrow will be far worse than today with larger ramifications. :::
It would have been so easy to just ignore your disobedience and let you prance off to whatever you wanted to do next. Sure - I could have easily picked up that playdough, but it quickly became the lesson of listening and obeying your mommy. I'm in this with you, son. I hate it even more than you do, but good things come from taking instruction from your mommy. You'll be better off in the long run! I long for you to know the fullness and goodness of all that God has waiting for you, but it takes some tweaking along the way.
I love you too much to let you do what you want. As we were sitting there crying, watching the rain fall out the front window, I held you and kept telling you how much I love you. You'd wimper back that you love me too. It was quite the fight, and we were both feeling it. As I was holding you, the sun came out and the rain cleared up. It was as if the Lord blessed us then and there. We gave one another a kiss, and things were good again. The sun comes after the rain, my dear boy.
I love you, bean. I love you too much to let you become someone you won't want to be.
Exhausted,
Mommy
Parenting is hard.
Today you and Asher were playing with play dough at the kitchen island. The two of you were having a ball - making your own creations of pizza, meatballs, etc. Once you were done, you were going to walk off onto the next thing, but I asked you to come back and pick up the play dough that had fallen to the floor. The deal was that I'd get what was on the counter, but you were to get what was on the floor. It was maybe 5 clumps of play dough. That's all.
You didn't want to.
I asked again, and you started to cry out, "I don't want to!"
A back-and-forth battle raged on for a good 30 minutes: me asking you to pick up the play dough, you coughing...gagging...screaming in agony that you didn't want to. I'd ask again, then inform you that if you didn't obey, I'd give you a spanking. You got lots of spankings. It was will against will.
I asked again. And again. And again. You were exhausted. I was exhausted.
When the screaming turned to snapping back at me in a snoody "no!", I said I'd wash your mouth out with soap. :: Just pick up the play dough, my boy ::
You didn't. You snapped back in a bratty "no."
I washed your mouth out with soap. You hated it.
That strong, iron will finally broke and you picked up the play dough.
After those little colored lumps of dough were in their container, I scooped you up and sat on the couch. We watched the rain fall outside and both of us cried. You had both of your arms around me - holding so tight. Both of our tears were flowing.
Throughout the time we were fighting back and forth, I kept on praying to the Lord, "please...just have him pick up that play dough." I think the good Lord was replying to me ::: Today it is playdough. When he's 16 it will be something far worse. Take care of it today and it will make tomorrow easier. Let it slide today, and tomorrow will be far worse than today with larger ramifications. :::
It would have been so easy to just ignore your disobedience and let you prance off to whatever you wanted to do next. Sure - I could have easily picked up that playdough, but it quickly became the lesson of listening and obeying your mommy. I'm in this with you, son. I hate it even more than you do, but good things come from taking instruction from your mommy. You'll be better off in the long run! I long for you to know the fullness and goodness of all that God has waiting for you, but it takes some tweaking along the way.
I love you too much to let you do what you want. As we were sitting there crying, watching the rain fall out the front window, I held you and kept telling you how much I love you. You'd wimper back that you love me too. It was quite the fight, and we were both feeling it. As I was holding you, the sun came out and the rain cleared up. It was as if the Lord blessed us then and there. We gave one another a kiss, and things were good again. The sun comes after the rain, my dear boy.
I love you, bean. I love you too much to let you become someone you won't want to be.
Exhausted,
Mommy
3 comments:
That is AWESOME! I really, really enjoyed reading that. What a great glimpse of how God "parents" us.
This letter couldn't describe some of our days more perfectly. In my head I'm begging God to just allow him to obey so that the battle can end.
i loved this, becky. thanks for sharing.
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