Scream louder

I love being screamed at.

Especially while driving.

Thankfully, it was just me and him. This time, his siblings were spared the peripheral damage.

For no real reason. That’s often how it is. There’s no inciting incident, just some bottled up rage that had to come out full force and full volume on the way home from karate.

  • Maybe because he came in 3rd place out of 4 losing to lower belts during sparring practice?
  • Or because he was up past his bedtime last night?
  • Or because he refused to eat the string cheese–I knew he was hungry and so did he!
  • Or because I just could NOT understand or correctly answer the absolutely off the wall question he was repeatedly asking me over and over…and louder and louder…
  • Or, most devastatingly, for no reason at all.

Because something inside him said, “you’re angry, let ‘er rip”. No matter that it’s your wonderful, sweet, loving, patient, takes so much crap from you and keeps coming back in for a hug mom.

I’m learning how important self-care and hope is in this season. I end up the brunt of misplaced and unprovoked anger, frustration and unkindness. And later when I’m still trying to just breathe and he doesn’t even remember doing it…or just won’t admit it. Dear Jesus, please take the wheel! I’ll be curled up in the trunk hiding from the monster…

Looking forward to some more specific answers beyond four letters in the near future. ADHD. It’s so much bigger than its little acronym lets on…

We’ve recruited an entire team to help us from every angle. All the people! All the things!

Yet, this alone space…it’s so loud and complex here.

So until we figure out how to connect and support each other, carry on beleaguered warriors. I have to believe the fight for this one is worth the bruises.


Frog Breathing

imagesI was in a supreme hurry to get dinner on the grill during a very tight window of time after homework and before soccer practice. I flew out the back door and whisked the cover off the grill only to be startled out of my skin by a tiny green frog cowering on the control panel between the flame-adjuster knobs.

I hate to admit this, but I screamed. And not a cool, high-pitched, girly movie scream, more like a kind of gutteral manly groan–like the one you make after coming around a bend in the road to find fresh roadkill with blood and entrails and crows picking at it, or the noise you made just now.

No one heard me. I could have poked the frog with a stick and sent it hopping. But the shock had halted my mad dinner rush and forced me to stop and breathe. The surge of adrenaline bathed my brain and birthed a great idea.

I called my kids from the creek below, “Hey guys! Come see! There’s a FROG!” There was a blur of boots as my kids scrambled pell-mell up the hill trying to be the first to lay eyes on the creature, “I wanna see! I wanna see!”

After staring at the huddled creature, we got a box and a stick. Then I gently prodded the poor thing to leap from the grill and caught him in the box, which caused much hilarity and screaming amongst the littles.

The three amigos trilled in excitement as they transported the frog-box to the creek, then quieted as they settled it on the ground and peered over the top.

After plopping the teriyaki chicken breasts onto the sizzling grill top, I stopped to take in the picture of my children huddled over that box, waiting, watching, anticipating.

The displaced frog was sitting in the corner of the cardboard prison as if it were frozen, or a fake plastic toy. After a minute of staring down the tiny green creature, Ellison shrieked, “Mom! Mom! It’s BREATHING!”

They knew the frog was alive from its initial leap into the box, but because it was sitting mannequin still, they weren’t sure it was still alive, and began to doubt. It took them a while and a good look to make sure it wasn’t dead.

I don’t want people to wonder if I’m spiritually dead. I shouldn’t have to make a big leap every now and then to show that I’ve got God inside of me. I want people to see me constantly moving so fast they just assume that I’m alive and breathing because of all that that is being done to further God’s kingdom. Not peering over the edge of the box, waiting to see a breath, poking me with a stick and wondering if I’m still alive.

In his hand is the life of every creature and the breath of all mankind.
Job 12:10  (NIV)