It’s one of those days. I’m tired. It makes me vulnerable and I swear Grace can sense it.
She’s disobedient. Acts like she doesn’t hear a word I’m saying and when she finally responds she’s as flip as a full blown teenager.
But she’s 4.
My new punishment of choice is to send her to her room. Not for any reason other than it gets her out of my hair for a little while and I can relax my shoulders and not hear my own voice scolding over and over and over…
I know, I know. She can PLAY in her room so what kind of punishment is that? Well let me just lay it out there – I don’t care! I just need a break for 10 minutes and I know she doesn’t like to be isolated so it still counts as punishment in my book. She is just such a rascal sometimes!!!
And then I remember. Grace needs grace. I recently read this blog post from Beautifully Rooted and it hit me square between the eyes. See, when I was pregnant with Grace I had to sit down with Jared at one point and ask him to forgive me in advance for what my hormones were about to do to my behavior.
“Please be patient with me and know that as it’s coming out of my mouth I literally can’t stop it!” On top of being controlled emotionally by the crazy maniacal hormones I would then feel guilty for being such a jerk. So I was asking him for grace. I expected it, after all I was growing our baby so this was his portion of the job as far as I was concerned. By the way, not in a million years would I want to trade places and deal with me as a pregnant wife – just sayin’.
Well there was some trial and error but he finally got it. And I knew it…because he would just be silent when I had one of my spells. He would be calm and loving and man oh man, I’m so grateful for it. By the second pregnancy I just had to remind him and with the third he stepped right into the role with ease. He was, in short, a gracious husband.
So here I stand in a fit of fury this morning as Grace defiantly disobeys me and I just want to stomp my foot (um, like a 4 year old?) to command attention or make my voice as mean as possible to get through to her but then I close my eyes and I am humbled…she is a child.
It’s not just the fact that she’s tall for her age but my daughter is bright and sometimes (I dare say) wise and you would never guess that she is only 4. So I remind myself that while it’s important to discipline and hold her to a high standard, she is still a child and can’t always control her emotions. Just as I couldn’t control mine as I grew her in my belly.
Instead, love them the most when they are the most unloveable. Our pastor recently said this in a series on raising children. Wow. And discipline, when done with grace, is love.
In those moments of ‘childlike’ behavior, I need to be grateful that she is still my little girl. Who, incidentally, has been giving me these looks from the get go.
Given that it literally, physically hurts me sometimes to watch her grow you’d think I wouldn’t be so anxious for her to act like an adult. Sheesh.
So today I’m tired, my fuse is short and boy can she sense it so I pray – God give me grace.