I gave clear instructions as to my expectations. I even went as far as writing down the four things I expected them to do, time frame to finish, and consequences for failure to complete in a timely manner.
At 12 and 10, I don’t feel I need to micromanage my older boys. The 4 instructions should have been common sense. Things they need to do every night. Pack your lunch and clean your mess well. Put away any clean laundry in your room. Brush teeth, get ready for bed. Clean up all dirty clothes and bathroom mess. Simple.
Andrew and I finished up reading his favorite baseball book. The one that is ridiculously long. I’m sure I wasn’t the one who bought this book. We dogeared where we’d pick up the next night, said our prayers, snuggled for a minute. The door opened a crack. “Hey, mom, I’ve finished everything.”
Surprised at the record time, I asked, “Everything on the list?”
With complete assurance, he nodded is head, “Yes, every single thing.”
Kissing Andrew’s head one last time, I whispered goodnight and closed the door. I walked downstairs for a glass of water before beginning the nightly reading session with Jacob and Zachary. When I entered the kitchen, I froze.
How in the world could he possibly think he completed the 4 simple things when the kitchen looks like this? Two bags of popcorn, a loaf of bread, peanut butter, jelly, a sticky knife, crumbs galore, all the drawers wide open, dirty dishes placed next to the sink. It looked like they hadn’t lifted a finger towards that list.
Initially, I was agitated at the fact that they are 10 and 12 and should just know better. I shouldn’t have to tell them to clean up after themselves. The fact that I had specifically asked them and they failed to obey is what I wanted to discuss with them.
One of the boys had followed me down the stairs. He was the first to hear my thoughts. He immediately began cleaning. “I’m sorry! I’ll clean up my mess.”
I hollered upstairs for the missing culprit. I began the same discussion with him I’d just had with his brother. However, this child immediately began to defend himself, to build a case for why he was right. “You didn’t tell me to clean up that mess.” “That part isn’t mine.” “You said…..”
What could’ve ended in 2 minutes ended up becoming an hour long process.
I sat him at the table and we did the back and forth. Each stating our case. Showing how we were right. We heard a key in the door and paused as Steve walked into our tense dialogue. We each began retelling our versions, which surprisingly were vastly different in details.
Steve remained mostly quiet as my son and I continued. Then this child’s emotions spiked, and he bordered that point where you begin to say things you will later regret. Those things that will hurt your heart when your emotions settle and the heat of the moment passes. This is the point I asked him to simply go upstairs.
I’ve learned when my boys are emotionally charged isn’t the best time for us to have the discussions. Tempers flare, anger threatens, and words can become dangerous weapons. When the battle is intense, we will never convince each other why we did what we did, why we said what we said. And simply put, we are pretty selfish creatures. We are prideful and tend to look at our own wants, needs, and sides of the story. We falsely believe the person’s eyes we look into have become our enemy.
Psalm 4:4 Be angry, and do not sin; ponder in your own hearts on your beds, and be silent.
In the middle of the argument, I excused the brother who failed to argue, the one who owned his part, apologized, and made it right. For him it was end of discussion.
The entire time I argued/discussed with the other brother, God kept saying, “You do this, too.” At one point I caught my husband’s eye and had to keep from laughing. I’m sure he was thinking that this child and I are so similar at times it’s scary.
After he went upstairs, Steve said, “I wish someone would always tell me to go away when I got angry. It would keep me from saying things I’d later regret.”
“Yeah, me too.” I had to know. “Steve, do I do that too?”
With a slight twinkle in his eye, he said, “Yes, sometimes. It’s just that usually, I’m wrong. But when you are wrong, yes, you do that too.”
Ouch. I knew it was true because I saw it played out and I heard God saying, “You do this, too.”
It gave me what I needed to talk to this child. First, I stopped by the brother who’d been excused.
“Listen, I want to point out something. When I showed you the mess in the kitchen and pointed out where you guys failed to obey fully, I appreciate the fact that you owned your part and made it right. You didn’t make excuses for why you didn’t obey. You didn’t even simply clean up only your mess. You simply realized that yes, you hadn’t done what you were asked to do, said you were sorry, and made it right.”
He stopped reading his book, gave a sleepy grin.
“I wish I were more like you in that way. You’ve always had a heart that is quick to repent. God uses you to teach me.”
His grinned broadened. We prayed, I tucked him in, kissed is head, and gently closed his door.
I walked into the next room. He sat propped up by his pillows, reading lamp casting a soft glow on his maturing features. His face had softened drastically. His jaw wasn’t set, his shoulders relaxed, hands clasped on his stomach.
“Listen, I need you to understand something.”
He looked up at me with those eyes that look the same as the newborn eyes I remember gazing into. I remembered back to thinking I could never envision this sweet, innocent baby challenging our love in any way.
His demeanor was completely different from only 15 minutes earlier in the kitchen.
“The major issue wasn’t about your failure to do what was asked. That was the starting point. But it goes beyond that. It’s how you handled yourself and the situation when confronted with your failure to obey instructions.”
He nodded. Eyes still so soft.
“You are not perfect. You will make mistakes. It is how you handle the mistakes that is most important. Can we own our failures? Can we simply say we are sorry and do what is required to make it right? Or will we allow our pride to blind us so that we only make a defense for ourselves?”
I continued, “Conflict and confrontation are normal parts of life. Human nature is to look at the conflict only from our perspective and form our response from that position. That is where pride begins to take root. We become selfish even in our own points of view.”
“I know this because this is what I do many times. I wish at your age I had begun to learn these things. At 39, I’m only beginning to see things differently. The heartache I could’ve saved if I’d entered disagreements looking from common ground instead of from my position only.”
“I hate to disappoint people. I hate to fail at something or fail someone. Out of fear, I will try to protect myself. I will state my case so that the person will not see me as a failure or a disappointment. Often, I create greater disappointment in my inability to own my own mistakes and say I’m sorry quickly. Bottom line, it’s pride.”
I could tell he was really listening. Not just trying to get through a lecture. This time there was no lecture. Truly, I shared my heart. It’s one of my many struggles as well. I get it. I get him. I feel for him. It’s what I do. As a parent, it breaks my heart to watch his pride stand tall. I know the dangers of pride. I know how it grows. I see in lives around me how this very thing has destroyed relationships.
“Jesus was the most beautiful picture of humility. Never elevating himself over another. Always choosing the lower position. To the very point of death. For us. He could’ve made his case (and he would’ve been right), he could’ve demanded that everyone see his point of view. He did nothing of the sort. He submitted to the Father. He humbly went to the cross. And He never said, “You all just wait and see. You’ll know I’m right sooner or later.” No, He said, “Father, forgive them for they know not what they do.” Even to death, He thought of others first.”
I looked back over the things we’d exchanged downstairs. His defense of his defense. ‘I can’t just submit if I don’t think I’m wrong.’
I was struck by this because it’s how I often feel as well. I can’t submit to what you are saying if I think I’m right. But that is not the example of Jesus. He submitted fully. He was right. He gave no defense. He left that to the Father. And so should we.
I’m learning alongside these children that we are raising. Before we argue our case and defend ourselves, maybe we need to pause. See the part that is ours, the mistakes we made, and own them. Say we are sorry quickly, not after defending ourselves, and move forward to make it right.
The sweetness of God in how He parents us as we parent our children, His children first.
2 Corinthians 10:5-6The Message (MSG)
3-6 The world is unprincipled. It’s dog-eat-dog out there! The world doesn’t fight fair. But we don’t live or fight our battles that way—never have and never will. The tools of our trade aren’t for marketing or manipulation, but they are for demolishing that entire massively corrupt culture. We use our powerful God-tools for smashing warped philosophies, tearing down barriers erected against the truth of God, fitting every loose thought and emotion and impulse into the structure of life shaped by Christ. Our tools are ready at hand for clearing the ground of every obstruction and building lives of obedience into maturity.
