my weaknesses

The unknown steals my peace.  No, it doesn't have to; I realize it's a choice.  Anything that steals my peace holds me in bondage.

My unknowns:  Will husband get a job soon that pays the bills?  How long can we keep our house, under these conditions?  Will my son grow up to be functional?  If we replace our unreliable, ancient gas range, will that money later be needed for the house payment?  If we choose a bottom-of-the-line model, will it need repairs before the warranty runs out?  Why is the water heater working less efficiently?  How long before it goes out?  Will any tax refund money be left, when it does?  What curriculum purchases are absolutely necessary to do an adequate teaching job?  Will we be able to get a second used vehicle this year?  Will our van, driven 200,000 miles, last another year?  How will husband get to work....and the kids to the library and events, if it doesn't?

Sometimes I'm filled with the Spirit and nothing phases me.

Other times, because too many things go wrong at once, I can't keep my eyes on God.  My earthly existence, my earthly troubles, overwhelm.

If I want an abundant life, I must give thanks for these troubles.  Indeed, not only give thanks, but refuse to take them up as mine to solve. 


The other thing that steals my peace is frustration.  When things go awry on the homefront, and there's nothing I can do to prevent it, I fail to relinquish control fast enough, allowing God to steer.

When the two-year-old is tired, or cranky from teething, and kicks me when I change her, I'm apt to take it personally and get angry, rather than stoically deal with it--especially if the other children have been handfuls in the previous hour.

When the nine-year-old is unpredictable, disrespectful, or aggressive, I'm apt to discipline with too many words and too much anger, relinquishing control over to him, rather than maintaining it.

The message to my children?  Mommy is mean.  Mommy doesn't follow what Jesus says.  The same discipline, if delivered with neutrality, does not seem mean, but appropriate.

As a teacher, children told me things that would have horrified their parents, had they known.  I know what children think about yelling, ugly-faced parents.  It isn't pretty.

Yes, they forgive, usually, when we confess right away.  But they never stop wishing we'd be nicer....more controlled.

And worst of all, they grow up remembering the ugly faces, the yelling.

If your kids are still little, you probably don't yell yet.  Maybe you never will.  If you get frequent breaks, you're less likely to ever start yelling.  I didn't yell when I had two kids under four.  It happens later, when they know better but do the wrong things anyway, over and over.  (Kind of like us adults?  Only Jesus doesn't yell at us!)

When it comes to managing out-of-control children, emotion is bad. Stoicism, or rather neutrality, is good.

How do I remain the adult?  The benevolent teacher?  The spirit-filled Christian?

In my flesh, I can't be these things all the time.  How do I avoid frustration and guilt--despite knowing God's grace covers my iniquities?

Dealing with the unknown.  
Sinning in my frustration.

I know my weaknesses.

Dear God, help me give thanks for these weaknesses.  Help me to count them as gifts.  Only then, will I experience victory over their bondage.


Whatsoever draws me closer to God, and further from myself, is a gift.