This morning was ugly. I shudder to remember it. If I had any pride, I would keep it to myself. But I’m not very good at pretending to be perfect. And I feel the need to get it off my chest.
It all had to do with shoes. One shoe, to be exact. It was 5 minutes before the school bus was due to arrive, and I found myself in a very familiar predicament — searching for my daughter’s shoe. This is nothing new. My middle child NEVER can find her shoes when it is time to go somewhere. I don’t have this problem with my other two children. Even my 2-year-old can always find her shoes.
We have discussed putting them in the same place every time she takes them off, but I admit my own failure in helping her put this system into practice. At the very least, we could set out the shoes the night before and do our searching when we don’t have an imminent deadline. But I never remember to do either. (Hello!? The apple and the tree?) So for three years I have found myself at the last minute searching high and low for an elusive shoe. And it brings out the absolute worst in me.
This morning I was downright ugly. I said things to my child that I would do anything to take back. I know that the misplaced shoe is as much my fault as it is hers, but I put the full blame on her. I hate myself for not being able to control my words, my tone. I don’t know how I can expect my children to exhibit self-control when I don’t model it for them.
I know that God’s grace is sufficient in my weakness. I know that I can go to Him and repent and be forgiven. I can even apologize to my child and reassure her that I love her. (And I did that before I sent her off to school this morning.) But I cannot retract my words. My daughter will not forget them.