Fried Flower Petals and Foxhole Prayers

     It has been a day of fried flower petals and foxhole prayers.  What?  Yeeaahhh, I know. Let me explain.  So, my one son faces daily the difficult struggle of ADHD.  I hate to have some alpha-bits defining him, so I try to just use this diagnosis as a point of reference for help, for understanding, for the practice of grace and faith.  Because in a family, especially in one where almost all the members are home doing life together ALL DAY LONG - every day, a challenge like ADHD is not just a challenge for the child, but for the whole family.  We are each affected; we all struggle...strangling down our hurt and impatience with mercy and love.  Sometimes.  And sometimes, our ugly responses leak out anyway; aren't we all so broken?

     So, today, like most Mondays, started a little slow, a bit late.  But we got the ball rolling, ate our oatmeal, did some character work from a cool book called Character Sketches from Living Nature, we prayed, and I sent them to their respective study spots to get started.  I usually sit side by side with my son, to help him stay focused and to guide him through.  But it just so happened that today, my youngest daughter also had some math questions on a new lesson (insert silent foxhole prayer here).  It also just so happens that my oldest daughter has been really struggling with her math in general for the last month or so, as the Pre-Algebra has really ramped up (she is her mother's daughter -- foxhole prayer).  So, the oldest son, not being in a new lesson and having been very successful with the long division for the last two weeks, was sent to get started on his own (foxhole prayer...please, please, please just do it).  I answered several questions and helped the girls through what they needed to do in order to work independently.  When I moved over to my son's desk, he hadn't started yet (30-40 minutes in; insert another foxhole prayer), so I started talking him through the first problem.  I had him get going on number 2, while I attended to another child (foxhole prayer).  Upon my return, he had solved a long division problem mentally, and I suspected it was wrong. I asked him to write out the problem, showing all the work, and he just never really got to it. You know why?  He was frying flower petals on the light bulb of his desk lamp.

     As the tulips I spontaneously purchased from Shop-Rite had bloomed and started to wilt, my son started pulling off the lovely petals, resting them on the light bulb, and crisping them.  Sigh.  He was amused with this.  I was not.  So I sent up my 327th foxhole prayer of the day.  God please help me not to yell. Please help me not to create a battle; help me love well in this frustration.  So I have decided to count this as science for today.  Perhaps I can discuss with him what was happening to the petal as he roasted it over 75 watts.  Perhaps he could have to then explain it to his dad tonight.  And better yet, maybe explain it also to his co-op class since I am currently teaching on the topic of plants.  Or perhaps, I let go of my expectations.  Dan says expectations kill relationships; we need to communicate, not set expectations. He tells me that what Nate learns is not as important as learning to learn  - learning to self-control, self-monitor, self-motivate.  So while Nate is unable to do that from the inside (very little intrinsic motivation yet...it's neurologically not consistent yet, as per those aforementioned alpha-bits), I must monitor him, with love as best I can, from the outside.  But just try to provide extrinsic motivation to someone whose struggle has only one thing consistent about it: that it is inconsistent!  A very hard task. How do I teach skills to my kids when I am not sure I even have them myself to impart?  How do I help my son battle this fear, this anger, this frustration - when his behavior rouses the same in me?

     The answer is this: I can't.  This has to be God's work.  He tells us in Isaiah: "All your children shall be taught by the Lord, and great shall be the peace of your children, In righteousness you shall be established; you shall be far from oppression, for you shall not fear; and from terror, for it shall not come near you" (Isa 54:13-14).  I have to trust that God's got this.  And I have to be a channel for His love to flow through to Nate, a Love to be made tangible to a boy so hungry for the agape love of which he deeply fears he's not worthy.  How?  I can only pray for God to bubble up in me a thankfulness for all those gifts He's given Nate - the ones that get hard to see through the haze of unfinished work and fried flowers.  I can only pray that God will use His Spirit to nudge me into throwing a tight and loving embrace around my son's thin shoulders when he flings his work to the floor and announces, "I won't do it, I don't want to...it's too hard!"  What's flashing in his eyes isn't anger, it isn't defiance, it's fear...fear that silently screams, "I can't control my thoughts enough to do this right now.  If I don't try, then I can't fail!" But, oh!  It's so hard to remember these things in that moment.  In my sinful humanity, I feel rage-full, violent, hurt. My mind races to those dark self-important corners: "Don't you see what I am trying to do for you here?  Don't you know how this is inconveniencing me? If you fail at this then I will have failed at this..."  Oh, how pervasive our pride is.  My pride. Ugh.  Sanctification hurts. When the last thing I want to do is move toward him in grace and mercy, that is EXACTLY what he needs me to do.  Jesus died for me, for you, while we were all sinners.  He doesn't leave us alone in our mucky pit. So I am standing on God's words in Isaiah. I am too weak to do this alone, and I don't have to.  Repentance can only come when the Spirit helps you use courage and humility to rip open the stinking black flesh of pride, exposing it to the Light, letting the Living Water wash it clean.

     Tonight I'm praying that the Living Water washes away the fried flowers and dark corners of today, and that I can be thankful for what those spent petals exposed to me and in me. "Because of the LORD’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning;  great is your faithfulness" (Lamentations 3:22-23).  Pray with me, will you?

Wrapped in His web of grace,
MamaWebb