My daughter is spunky, beautiful, full of spirit, and many other wonderful attributes. She is also a challenge to parent-- has been pretty much since the beginning. She has brought me to my breaking point many, many times. Sometimes I miss the lesson. Today was NOT one of those days.
Ysmaille has been blessed with lots and lots of overtime the past several weeks. And we truly see it as that. A blessing. We have some financial goals to meet in 2015, and recognize this as our Provision. But that doesn't mean it's easy. I have been home the past few Saturdays by myself with two rambunctious children, after already working a very demanding job Monday through Friday.
My beautiful daughter had a very difficult morning. There were tears, and fits, and yelling, and moments of downright disrespect. I gave her brother more sprinkles on his French toast than her (did she miss the point that I made French toast with sprinkles?). The bath water was too cold. There wasn't enough water in the bathtub. She didn't want to do her chores. And on and on and on. I was on her. I did my best to correct her attitude. I gave her hugs. I put her on time-outs. I was silly. I was mean. Nothing worked.
At one point after just "correcting" her I just held her until she stopped crying. I loved on her and told her I would never stop loving her, no matter what she did. After our cuddle fest I asked her to do her one and only consistent chore (put the clean silverware in the drawer). She had a meltdown. She did NOT want to it, and just kept screaming, "I need more snuggles. I need more snuggles." Oh, it sounds sweet as I'm writing, but it wasn't a sweet moment at all. I just wanted her to do one single thing WITHOUT COMPLAINING! The last thing I felt like doing was snuggling with the very child who I had battled with for four hours. But I picked her up and I hugged her and she hugged me back. And at 11:30, after hours of frustration, we stood in the middle of the kitchen (me still in my robe and glasses), and just loved on each other. I began to cry, tears streaming down my face. In my human frailty I was aware of how Jesus feels about me. He loves me. When I disobey, and grumble, and complain and then turn around and ask Him to hug me. He does. Every. Single. Time.
That was a turning point in our day. Have the last hour and a half been perfect? No. Not even close. But somthing happened in our kitchen today, and we both felt it. Oh, that I would always find Jesus in the midst of the chaos.