Punching Bag

This morning as we were pulling into the drop-off line at the girl’s school, I realized that they were going to be watching a movie at school today called Screenagers.  It’s an excellent documentary, but I worried that our comments about screen time mixed with the message of the movie would make the girls feel discouraged and helpless (I know I feel that way a little bit when it comes to finding a good balance on tech-time).  I didn’t want them to feel too down over the truth of the documentary, instead, I wanted us all to feel motivated and inspired to jump into action and work on this as best we can. 

An analogy jumped into my mind. 

So, as we inched forward in the line towards the place they are allowed to get out, I started my quick story.

“Girls, imagine, a full gallon of milk is tipped over on the counter and is spilling all over the floor.  What would you do?” 

“Clean it up.”  Came their weary reply accompanied by a sigh and maybe an eye-roll. 

“Yes, we would just work together and clean it up.  We wouldn’t stand there depressed and sad and that there was milk all over the floor…” I sped along through my story. 

My punchline (of the rather weak illustration) was going to be that I really wanted us not to get discouraged about this challenge of screen-usage statistics, instead, I wanted us all to work together as best we could to find solutions. 

BUT, before I could get another word out, Abbey mumbled something and opened her door to get out (before the car was even fully stopped.)

“What?”  I asked, not hearing her.

“I’m sick of your stupid analogies!”  She said clearly and then slammed the door.

I sat there in shock and barely got it together to put the car in drive and pull out of there.

Yep.

That was my morning.

As tears poured down my face as I left the school, I remembered how a friend of mine had told me that she felt like a punching bag for her daughter.  That’s exactly how I felt.  I was a punching bag and I had just taken a jab.

I felt sorry for myself the whole way home:  Poor me, I have a bratty, rude daughter who wants me to stop telling her how to live her life. 

Then I thought about God’s steadfast love for us.  We throw punches at him all the time—we want Him to stop telling us what to do, or we attempt to be sneaky and get away with the things He’s cautioned us against.  We whine to Him about not getting our way and we might even tell Him we hate him if we are really upset about a decision He has made. 

He takes all our punches.

He takes all our jabs.

He listens to all our complaints about His parenting style.

He stands up to our insults.

He is okay with our doubts.

He responds with love—faithful, steadfast, everlasting love.

I can’t muster up love like that in response to my daughter’s hurtful words.  BUT, Jesus’ Spirit in me lifts my head and empowers me to respond with peace, patience, kindness, gentleness, and LOVE.  I WANT to love my daughter well.  I want to take her punches and look into her eyes and show her that I still love her—but that’s too difficult to do in my flesh.  I can’t do it perfectly.  There will be times that I won’t even remember to lean on the Holy Spirit and instead, I’ll hit back (figuratively!) with unkind words of my own…and I’ll not only hurt her, I’ll hurt myself and grieve God. 

But, even in His sadness over my actions, He will still love.  He’ll still be waiting there for me to yield and allow Him to pour His love inside me until it overflows onto my poor, disgruntled daughter. 

Oh, and He can probably give us wisdom about parenting “screenagers” as well.

For now, I’ll breathe in His strength, take the hit, and keep on loving as best I can.

Oh Lord, help me please.