Everyday, one of my boys starts at the beginning.
The beginning of his will. The beginning of accepting that he isn’t in change of the world, our house, his siblings, God, or his parents.
It’s tough to be too big for your britches and face the truth every day like it is a new revelation: life does not hinge on your preferences.
By lunch we usually have peace, a lovely afternoon ensues, and then in the dark of that cozy room of boys I kiss sweet lips and say goodnight knowing that tomorrow, he will probably growl again.
He will probably stomp and scream, we will stand off, I will cry out to Jesus for gentle words of truth, he will deal with his consequences. Then we will hug and the day will go on.
Wash, rinse, repeat.
These are the days I throw sugar and cream and vanilla in the ice cream maker and let it spin. Or together he and I, we mix up butter and chocolate and bake a pan of brownies.
These are the nights we all take a late night walk and breathe in the still warm air, or throw on swimsuits and go jump in the pool together.
The taste of sugar on our lips makes the forgiveness and peacemaking so much more worth our time. We walk off the stress and let our stress swim away under the blue water of the pool.
We are making hush money; cooking up a reward for us all, for making it through the long day of figuring out how to love and forgive, how to be patient and endure, how to live in the midst of sin and find all that is good and joyful in the middle of our mess.
Because I didn’t become a mama so that I could rule the roost and reign supreme.
I am here to kindly teach and consistently love these little souls who sometimes insist on learning everything the hard way. Who am I to spit in face of motherhood and say I will take the easy days but on the hard ones, no.thank.you?
This boy isn’t alone in his willful ways and stubborn pride. There are five more of us tromping around this house who hold the drama in too much, silently begrudge others of our patience and love, or cautiously leak rebellion when no one is looking.
We may not all stare bravely into the core of life and yell defiantly, but that doesn’t mean we don’t need a good lesson in how to live obediently when life goes against the grain of your soul.
Yes, we all need this hush money. We all need a little piece of heaven in a bowl or a glimpse of glory as we shoot out of the water slide again.
Wash, rinse, repeat.
Together, we learn to love our life together, and that really, everything is going to be okay.
