One day this week, I had to take Alice home from the park for various reasons, and she was unhappy about it. I was calm, sympathetic to her plight and made promises of the fun things we would do when we got home. It wasn’t working. She felt it was unfair that her brother got to stay, and she began to cry.
That is when I lost it. I began yelling at her to stop crying and be happy. Of course, this made her cry harder, and I got angrier. I even let the F word slip. Not Fart, not Fudge. The F word! I immediately realized how ridiculous I was being and pulled the car over. Taking a deep breath (thank you Yoga!), I calmed myself down. I looked into Alice’s tear-filled eyes and apologized, letting her know I should never have acted that way. I explained, just as much to myself as to her, that I loved her so much and wanted her to be happy, and it made me angry that she wasn’t. Not really knowing what else to say, we drove home in silence.
I would like to say this has been the only time I have yelled at Alice about not being happy, but it isn’t. This time, however, I examined my feelings a little closer. Why did I get so angry when she was unhappy? From infancy, her cries ripped my heart apart. As her mother, I felt total responsibility for her wellbeing. When I couldn’t make things better, it would make me angry. I was failing as a mother.
Fortunately, the silent drive home was long enough for me to realize something else. Why did I think she should always be happy? If she never goes through sadness, frustration, and loss, she can never truly experience joy. This is what the human experience is all about. The ups and downs, the successes and struggles. It is what builds character.
We walked past the “Secret Garden” on the way in the house. Alice noticed that one of the purple snapdragons was shriveled up due to extreme dehydration (oops).
“I don’t think it’s going to make it, baby,” I said.
“Aww.” She frowned, then said, “Let’s water the others now.”
“Good idea!”
There will be more missed play dates and more dead snapdragons. But we’ll face them together and come out stronger in the end.
On this Good Friday, I feel closer to God than ever before. I can’t imagine how He must have felt to watch His Son suffer on the cross. I still don’t understand everything about Him, but I know that the love He feels for you and me is like the love we have for our children, and then some.
Beautiful, Libby, just beautiful! Isn't His love mysteriously- captivating and ever so faithful...
ReplyDeleteThank you Tabitha! Yes, it is! Hope you are doing well! Miss you!
ReplyDelete"And then some . . . " -- definitely!!
ReplyDeletePeaches, your posts always make me think, and reflect. I'm also guilty of "letting things slip" and I know how easy it is to give in to anger when we are feeling frutrated and overwhelmed. I can't count the times that I've let a few words said in the stress of the moment escalate to the floodgates being thrown open into a full-blown rant. Kudos to you for recognizing what was happening, heading it off, apologizing and making it all better. For not giving in to the "reds" and for denying yourself that littlest bit of gratification, however justified.
You really do inspire me. :)
Thank you, Michelle. You are a great cheerleader. I posted this and then thought, "People are going to think I am terrible." I'm glad to know I am not the only one who gets angry and yells.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful, Libby!! You eloquently speak the truth. We are hardest on the ones we love the most. Each of my girls have been known to say, "My friends think you're so nice...but I tell them you can be mean sometimes!" :)
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