Challenge

Having a week (or so ... !) of being challenged by my own stinking attitude when it comes to kids and being overwhelmed by attachment issues, complaining, lack of gratitude, you name it.  It has been long enough, I think, that these behaviors should be starting to subside a little.  My "look-the-other-way, cut-you-a-LOT-of-slack, make-excuses-for-you" mode has, well, ended.  Almost one year has passed and what I realize about me is that I am patient, but not really extra-patient.  I'm done.  Over it.  Ready for everyone (everyone!) to pull up the boot straps and fall in line.  Done with the lazy approach to learning, done with acting as though you're on a long vacation and it's the job of some in this family to serve your every whim and complaint.  Done, done, done.  I know you can do better than that.  I expect you to do better than that.  You owe it to your birth mom to do better than that.

 

Which lead me to feeling utterly justified in catering to my flesh and my desire to unload "with both barrels" (as my mom used to say).  Not a good place from which to start - tired, irritated, filled with some not-so-nice thoughts as to your behavior and just what I'd like to do if I hear it one more time.  Nope.

 

And then, when I was knee-deep in my feeling justified and forming the words for the very next opportunity that arose, I came across this ...

 

 

Took the wind right out from under my attitude.  Ugh.  Slowed down my beating drum of anger and 'doneness' and made me think.  I really, really felt justified in my sin abounding.  Wanted to not only live in it, but get right down and wallow in it.  And, to be honest, there have been days when I did just that.  It felt pretty good for a minute or three.  And then, it didn't.  It felt a lot like NOT walking in newness of life.  It felt a lot like death.  Death of relationship, death of a happy home, death of safety to speak up, death of my heart when I see the look of pain that comes from me acting on the conversation in my mind, and death of a child's heart and trust when a not-so-happy-mama unloads "with both barrels".

Sometimes God uses a seven-year-old little boy to do his bidding.  So thankful He does.