Anyone looking at me will make the assumption that I‘m a calm, docile and even laid back gal. I may be a little of all those but for a more comprehensive idea of who I am, ask those in my home. I‘m a tad high strung, a tad high maintenance and a tad over communicative. When I say over communicative I don‘t mean that I just talk a lot. I mean that when I get upset or plainly putting it when I‘m angry I am capable of saying some pretty mean things. The husband and kids are usually at the receiving end of my “rage attacks“ if I can call it that. I kept thinking, until recently, that this was normal for an over worked, tired out mom of three until I noticed my daughter having tiny “rage attacks“ of her own. Initially they just seemed like her flair for the dramatic had gotten enhanced but then I noticed how similar she looked to me when she was angry. The thinned lips, the ugly sneer, the flared nostrils and raised voice. Not a pretty picture I‘ll tell you that. The similarities were so shocking that they completely threw me and got me thinking. A lot.
Today, I managed the three alone, a task in itself, since each kid has their needs and temperaments. At the end of the evening I just about ready to call it quits when I heard my middle child, the aforementioned girl, wake up and create a crying hullabaloo in her room. Sighing (the most dramatic and long sighs I‘m sure anyone‘s heard) I entered her room. (I might have looked up at my ceiling and said “Why God? Why me? ) Her weeping, to my exhausted eyes, seemed like a ruse to get out of her room and into my bed. I tried soothing her to sleep but she kept resisting saying she wanted to come with me. She thinks, of course, that her crying will weaken my stance, so she starts bawling and screeching. That‘s when I had it! (Or so I thought) I went in there screaming telling her to stop it and just go to sleep. That I‘m tired and I just wanted some peace and quiet ! (And alone in my bed till daddy got back)! To add emphasis I threw all the clean laundry that I had folded (emphasis on I) right on the floor and told her to “cut it out.” The stupid things we do when angry. As I walked out and caught my breath in my room, conviction descended on me like a pile of bricks. A still small voice asked me to go back into that room and hold that scared little girl. Scared not by a dream but scared by her screaming mommy. I obeyed that voice. I walked back in, calm and soft. (She must think I‘m mental or at least have a multiple personality issue of some sort.) I took my beautiful, perfect princess and snuggled her neck and kissed her soft, silky smooth hair. I rubbed her back (which by the way soothes them every time moms!) and held her tight. I told her I was sorry, that I was just tired. After holding her a few minutes in my arms and praying over her she said she was ready to sleep again. Before I lay her down she whispered the four words that melt every momma‘s heart. “I love you mommy“ !
As I got back to my room to put the baby to sleep the words “Speak Life“ jumped into my heart. I realised that many times because of my unrealistic expectations or my strained emotions and sometimes just plain fatigue, that I restrain from releasing those life giving words. I am determined from tomorrow that (with God‘s help) I‘m gonna breathe life into my four people. Since like I said, I‘m an over communicator, maybe the best gift I can give them are words!
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