Tuesday, January 24, 2012

My Boys and Their Fighting

Why can’t music start playing in real life’s teachable moments like it does in musicals? There would be a lot less fighting in the world if love songs started playing when people were mad at each other. I armed myself with a song to sing for the next time my strong -willed boys would start to fight.

 It was an old country song (Thank God for You Tube). See if you know it…"they’re gonna fight and they’re gonna fuss, but they’ve got something special-it’s brotherly love....We fought like tigers over that old red bike, I’m batting first and you can’t use my glove..” Keith Whitley sang it with Earl Thomas Conley. It helped a little, once.http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LcHiUYKXG4U
Another time, I took one of my boys to the store to buy his brother a gift for a future opportunity to exercise grace for the next fight. I told him, “Now when you get into your next fight, use the power of grace with this gift.” So we wrapped it and I hid it under my bed and waited. A few days later, the battle of wills began between the “sons of thunder” (and their names are James and John). Two of Jesus’ disciples were nicknamed this because they fought so much and they were brothers. I was able to arm my youngest with tangible grace. It really helped, but you can’t do this everytime. I mean, it would break my bank and presents don't always fix things. It did work nicely. Above all, it was memorable.

A momma just can’t fix everything. I bowed my head and prayed while they were going at it in the living room once~ though I was about to go all “coo-coo for Cocoa Puffs” on them because I can’t take their fighting! When I had finished praying  I looked up and they were hugging and crying. It wasn’t for show, it was a real desperate prayer and God was right there, right then. You get tired of responding the same way and it never changing! It’s too bad that this wouldn’t happen EVERY time, but it did
work that time.

When my youngest kicked my meanest, most aggressive of the trio in the chest (and this at my lovely glass table), my meanest started swelling up with a prideful steam. His face turning red as he held his breath and his eyes grew wide with the pain it takes to control yourself and be graceful. He had been learning about grace and forgiveness with home education. I knew what he was trying to do~ control his anger and forgive. He, usually, wouldn’t have taken as long to return fire being my most intense child. He began to cry as he submitted to God’s teaching and died to his own will--chest heaving and all. I sat there like I was watching a movie as it happened in lightning speed.  Holding back that flesh hurts more than getting it kicked, obviously.Are you ready for this?

The countenance of the youngest started to change and he, too, began to cry in the millisecond of unpredictability. They hugged one another, crying harder than they could ask for forgiveness (ages 9 and 11) and they stood there hugging one another as I looked on without a word~mouth open but no popcorn. I stood there, dumbfounded, at the Spirit of God working between them. I assure you, this is not a natural reaction. Thank you, Father. (Pic not of my actual boys)
Thanks to my Dad who once responded to me in a letter through postal mail, “you may be carrying him right now, but the memories of his growing and learning will one day carry you.” That is precisely true.

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