March 13, 2014

When it would be easier to just give up...

As the clock ticked away, they grew, changed and got taller.  I stayed the same size (at least in height!)  They've become much more opinionated about things that back when I last wrote, didn't matter:  music, hairstyles, the economy, our president, showering!

We're in the final eight weeks of their second year of high school.  This week is Spring Break and boy, have they had a break.  Overnight at friends, friends here overnight, hanging out with youth, air soft battles in the yard, complete with the garb!
 

Seeing them in their 'uniforms', shooting each other and Isaac wearing his gas mask serves to remind me of the war that they're in daily. 

One morning, when they were about six years old, maybe younger, God showed me how they were warriors.  His warriors.  The swords made from paper towel holders, the guns they'd shoot made from ANYTHING THEY HAD IN THEIR HANDS was preparation.

...and I HAD TO (have to) LET THEM FIGHT, HAD TO LET THEM ENGAGE, EVEN WHEN IT MEANT THAT ONE OF THEM WOULD MOST ASSUREDLY GET HURT ACCIDENTALLY (or not) BY THE OTHER ONE!

As their mom, I can encourage (which means to PUT courage in) them to fight the good fight of faith or I can very easily draw my weapons and become the enemy.  With words.  With my attitude...demanding them to perform quicker, "NOW", "BECAUSE I SAID SO", with no regard to the real war that is waging on the inside of them, the struggles they're battling, giving no thought about the enemy of their soul, bent on destroying our relationship.

Youth, whether twins or not, are engaged in a very real war.  They may not know it; I'm certain they don't.

Each day they're bombarded with ideas, screaming voices of their flesh, the devil and the world. 

What is my response to this onslaught?  Will I battle my own demons and conquer by His Word or will I succumb to the lie that it would be so much easier to just give up and live my own life?

Today was no exception. 

My heart's cry is to KNOW how to 'stir them up to love and good deeds' and not to constantly correct them.  So I cry out.  And cry more, sometimes with tears, sometimes in desperation, for answers. 

Because of a bad choice last week, they'd both been given a 'sentence' of dishes for two weeks: morning, noon and night.
I find it's so easy to nag, remind and get frustrated by their inconsistencies.  So, my prayer has been more for me and WHY I feel the need to be a 'dripping' reminder.

This morning, there were dishes in the sink.  The room was a mess and there was laundry that had been left dirty in the laundry room.  AND HE ASKED TO USE MY PHONE...

But rather than go on a rant about it, I spoke kindly, 'No, I can't do that,' and explained why.

I WAS KIND.  (Doesn't the Proverbs say something about kindness being able to break bones?  Proverbs 25:15...)

Perhaps I need to remind myself of this truth:  kindness and patience go hand in hand.

Over and over the Scriptures speak to this... 

"Since God chose you to be the holy people he loves, you must clothe yourselves with tenderhearted mercy, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience."  Col. 3:12
 "We prove ourselves by our purity, our understanding, our patience, our kindness, by the Holy Spirit within us, and by our sincere love."  2 Cor. 6:6
 "But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control; against such things there is no law."  Galatians 5:22-23

The days when the 'rubbing' has worn my soul thin and I think that if they don't do what they're 'supposed to' on my terms and within such and such a time, those are the days when I know  I'm deep in the trenches and He wants ME to take back ground, aim bullets at the right target. 

But way too often, I take aim at them, there below the collar bone, that place where trust and distrust hang in the balance. 

Grace.

Mercy.

It's what awaits me each morning where sleep and awake collide.  I decide even before my eyes open whether I'll embrace the Truth, cling to what I KNOW IS TRUE, and fight the good fight of faith for myself.  Equip myself to engage in the battle, wearing each piece of armor, fitted just for me.

Young men in war need their mom's encouragement, cheering and most of all: her patience and kindness.



For tonight, they're decapitating zombies.  Tomorrow, by faith, they'll be destroying their enemy's fortresses, ever mindful that He has won every battle by the blood of His Son.

Never give up, mom.

1 comment:

lisa aguirre said...

I'm crying..
For the conviction I feel.
For aiming my target below the collarbone of my son and not going to the cross.
For not being an encourager and instead being an instigator of mistrust and blame.
Thank you for the scripture.