I wrote this blog with pen and paper. Not because I wanted to return to the simple way of writing where ink flows out upon the white lined pages of a notebook. Not because I was so inspired that I was compelled to get my thoughts jotted down, lest I forget. Rather, I found myself sitting in a doctor’s office sans cell phone and thus unable to do any of the normal tasks I typically accomplish while waiting. No emails. No Facebook. No Kindle books. No hotspot to allow me to enter the grades for the papers I just finished correcting.
How did this come about?
The simple truth is that I forgot my phone at work. The more complicated reality is what I was doing at the moment I realized I didn’t have it.
I was lecturing my adolescent on his poor memory and lack of organizational skills. Yes, I am aware of the irony.
The details are unimportant, but here are the highlights of the conversation in simple points. I won’t identify who said what:
choices
excuses
executive functioning
responsibility
micromanage
consequences
waste
not listening
late
“Late” was the word that led me to have that same child search through my belongings strewn across the center row of our minivan seats looking for my cell phone. Instead of calling the doctor to say we’d be late, he was using his phone (which he had not misplaced) to successfully track down my phone for me.
As you can imagine, I groveled and thanked him and took back all my words.
Nope!
I said nothing. We both sat in tense silence, stewing over our mutual frustration. He went in for his appointment, and I wrote this confession of inadequacy.
I don’t want to lecture.
I don’t want to model ingratitude.
I don’t want to be so harried.
I want my words to be ladened with grace.
I want a life marked by peace.
I want to live a life more like Christ.
Of course, I will make amends, when he comes out. I will try to use this unplugged time to settle my soul and re-emerge into the evening with a more humble, sweeter attitude. We all have grumpy days, and we need to extend as much grace to ourselves as we’d offer to others, but sometimes it is my lack of grace towards others that marks my parenting and my life. I’m still a work in progress. I just wish I was further along. I mourn that I was not a better mother for my kids years ago. I wanted better for them; I want better for them now. Yet, I am the person God appointed to the task of raising them. He knew better than me. I pray he won’t give up on completing that good work he began in me.
I will try again.
