Show Your Child Grace, Even When You’re Under Fire

Let me start off by saying, that I am hours behind on writing this post, due to my nerves being rattled. On the blog on this day, I was supposed to be writing about faith over fear. While starting to write, my son, who was downstairs, starting  screaming at the top of his lungs. I mean blood curdling screams, the kind that tell you a child is either hurt or terrified or both. I could hear my husband asking him what happened as I came careening down the stairs, almost knocking over my Mother, who was also wanting to know what happened. My heart was pounding, expecting blood, or a broken bone but first, where was he? When you think back on things that cause hysteria, your movements and thinking are irrational. I came down the stairs and went in the opposite direction of his cries, probably based on muscle memory of my usual path, when I come down. Basically, I should have went right instead of left which caused me to go in one big stupid circle, in an attempt to find my hollering child.

When I did find him, he was indeed terrified but there was no blood, no bones protruding, just uncontrollable tears and unintelligible words. In the midst of me telling him to breathe and calm down, so he could speak to me, I saw the source of his meltdown. The half bathroom was flooded with water, from, you guessed it, the toilet. Now I don’t consider myself to be an OCD type person. I believe in cleanliness, good hygiene and maintaining a neat and tidy home but I wouldn’t say I am a germaphobe. That is unless we are talking about the terr-let. I avoid cleaning the toilet at all costs. I gag, every time I have to do it, which is why on weeks that our cleaning lady doesn’t come, my husband will clean them. We all know what takes place in there, so watching that water flood my hardwood floor, while my son was frantically apologizing for using too much tissue because he had “too much poop,” really had my head spinning. The idea of poop on my floor, literally had me dry heaving but my husband was handling the bathroom. I know he was steaming too because he constantly warns Chiefton about not over loading the toilet with tissue or placing toys or anything else in there. It’s part of his daily speech of things that you should not do in this house that will cause you injury, cause Dad to spend money or cause something in here to break, fall apart or come crashing down. I’m married to a certified safety professional by trade, so these speeches undoubtedly come with the territory.

As I stand there watching doo doo water swirling on my floor, Chiefton is still frantically crying and apologizing. It is at that moment, I realize that his fear is that he will get in trouble for his mistake and no matter how much I try to console him and tell him that it’s okay, his look of deflation does not subside. As my husband scurries past with buckets, towels, the mop and everything short of a hazmat suit, I stop him and tell him to also give Chiefton reassurance that mistakes happen and that he’s not in trouble. He did just that and I think the combination of the both of us telling him that it was alright, calmed his nerves. The fear of getting disciplined, coupled with his embarrassment, was overwhelming for him.

Here’s what I know. We teach six year old Chiefton, to be responsible as it pertains to keeping his room clean, tidying his eating areas and maintaining personal hygiene. All parents are fully aware of the mud pies that can end up in little undies, when you release the wiping reigns and bestow them on the butt holder. With wiping power comes great responsibility and he was ultimately trying to do what was right. I learned today, that even when they mess up, we must give our children grace and make them feel love and compassion. It broke my heart that he was so distraught over what happened, even though I was really distraught over what happened but I chose love over unnecessary verbal lashing, which I’m hoping will teach him, that even with mistakes, he is safe in his parents love. In an effort to make me feel better, he assured me that the poop had already flushed, so it was just “water” on the floor. Oh the joy, of hearing it was just fecal matter water, is enough to warm your heart isn’t it?

This wasn’t my post for today, so I don’t have any meaningful or pre-planned photos to accompany it. I just hope that even without the photos, I can inspire someone to envision how they hope their children will speak of them as adults. Will they say you were patient and kind, even with their faults? Or that you were loving and nurturing when they fell short? Above all else, will they say  you showed them grace, even in the most challenging situations? My hope is that Chiefton will say all of these things about his parents and more.