Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Sweet scents permeate the house and beautiful music plays softly. The running about of little feet is constant...through the kitchen, down the hall, out the backdoor, back inside. The footsteps accompanied by laughter and chitter chatter.
Peace interrupted by a scream outside, followed by two children crying and yelling, the footsteps turned into feet stamping on the back porch into the house. I know they are both upset, ready to come and defend themselves, to try and make themself look the victim, their sibling the culprit.
A quick prayer leaves my lips, "Oh Lord, give me wisdom on how to deal with this situation. Help my words to be gentle, my actions to be filled with love."
I take a deep breath and brace myself for the 5 and 7 year old to burst in through the door, bringing their chaos with them. In they tromp, loud and angry. Before I even open my mouth, one child's yelling subsists, the other's sobbing turns to quiet cries. I wonder at the cause for this almost immediate display of self-control.
7-year-old answers my question with her own, " Mmm... mama, what's baking?"
5-year-old adds on, "It smells so good in here."
I tell them I have a few loaves of bread just about ready to come out of the oven. Completely calmed down now, they ask if they can have a warm piece with butter.
I take a moment to answer, remembering they were just in the middle of a fight, yet to be dealt with. Should I deal with it first? Should I discipline them by not allowing them to have the bread?
"Oh Lord, give me wisdom..."
I feel I need to move on...give them a piece of bread, hug them, kiss them, mention nothing of past wrongs. Somehow know it will work itself out.
Bread comes out of the oven, we slice it, butter it, sit at the candlelit table and eat. I'm quiet as I look at these two beauties.
7-year-old softly breaks the silence. "Josiah, I'm sorry for bossing you around."
5-year-old responds, "Sorry for pushing you sissy."
They continue eating their bread, and I mine. I smile and say nothing, so proud of these two littles. All forgotten, we eat a few more slices of bread, then pull out a game to play.
As we play and laugh, I think how, left to my own ways, these two would probably be sitting alone on their beds right now, still upset, still angry. So thankful for God's wisdom, here we sat together, enjoying each other, the two of them having fixed things on their own.
Could it be better? Could it be sweeter?... never
Thank you Lord for your wisdom and patience. Thank you for helping me not to parent in my own "wisdom". Thank you for bread to bake.