If I’ve learned anything from almost twenty years of parenting, it’s this: I have so much yet to learn.
Just about the time I thing I have a few things figured out, my children do or say something (or I do or say something) to remind me of how much further I’ve yet to go. I don’t want to believe that I’m still, at times, childish. Immature. Petty.
But I am. Sometimes you are, too.
The good news? Love covers all.
A regular brouhaha erupted in the backyard. My three little ones, two six-year-olds and one seven-year-old, sounding like a 2 a.m. bar brawl.
She isn’t sharing! He’s being mean to me! You’re not my friend anymore!
Head throbbing and blood pressure mounting, I called them inside.
“What’s the problem?”
In spite of their fervor, it was all nonsense.
Wrong question. At once, three screeching voices blasted the others, complaining of this and that and all matter of unfairness. In spite of their fervor, it was all nonsense. Petty complaints and ridiculous responses. Childish, in every sense of the word. Which was not surprising, since they are, in fact, children.
“No more.” I raised a single hand. Maybe my voice, too. “I’ve heard enough. You’re not being nice to each other. That’s all there is to it. And you need to knock it off.”
Quiet. Finally. They nodded little heads and stared at me wide-eyed.
“Now,” I exhaled. “What do you need to say to each other?”
They answered, without hesitating, looking from one to another …” [READ MORE]
What do you need to say or who do you need to forgive in order to get back to living?