Words of Wisdom

Youth is wasted on the young.

Friday 18 May 2007

Happy Families

Well, what a difference 24 hours makes.

On Wednesday night I participated in a parenting course entitled "Drug Proof Your Kids" whilst at home, World War 2.5 was raging.

During the evening, we were asked to create a group collage which expressed 'what we had realised about parenting' so far in our lives. Initially, we had to jot down bullet points and then we were given magazines, textas (felt tipped pens for international readers), glitter etc and asked to creatively record our bullet points. Now this in itself is an interesting exercise. Much of what you cut and stick is triggered by the words and titles you see in the magazine you pick up. My bullet points had included
  • you get back what you put in but sometimes even a little investment will reap great rewards
  • it's ok to say "no"
  • they only hate you for a little while
  • follow your instincts, they're usually right
  • you're never too old to say you're sorry

Of course, my heart and mind were full of the events raging prior to leaving home that evening, and do you think I could see any relevant words and images to support my bullet points as I perused that magazine? No.

Now, from a distance I could have looked for pictures of watches to convey 'time'; dollar signs, or symbols of financial institutions to convey 'investment'; pictures of age, happy couples with kids etc..........but instead I found words and titles such as 'earn your stripes', 'dinner in 10 mins', 'family at war'-there were others but I can't remember them and suspect I will be horrified when I see them next week- and edged all my quotes in a hard, jagged outline. It really was telling. Spot the family in crisis!

In contrast, one of the other lovely ladies on my table had noted down "parenting: I love it, I'm tired, they're all different". Anyway, no point berating myself, we are what we are and that was where I was on that night.

On my return home I was confronted by a devastated Father swinging between "I'm a bad dad" and "I'm writing him off". With some encouragement he went for a drive to see if he could find No2 Son, but to no avail. When he goes he makes sure he can't be found.

That evening I did as much reassuring and supporting as I could. One of my key points was that conflict like this did not make you a Bad Parent. The telling thing is how you handle the conflict. I went to bed very prayerfully, praying for tolerance, resilience, healing, understanding and acceptance for our family members.

All this occurred to the backdrop of an unexpected visit to town by Other Half's sister who lives in Perth and is rarely seen. The following evening was marked down for a family roast with everyone present to catch up with Auntie M. Baby Angel was quick to tearfully point out that this was not likely to happen now. Other Half was keen to write off No1 son as well (rather unfairly as he has been doing v well of late) and everyone was at loggerheads over the situation.

Well, prayer is a powerful thing. The following afternoon I heard from Other Half that he had; phoned No2 son and told him that of course we love him and come home, all is forgiven; arranged for Small Boy to spend the evening with us and contacted No1 Son with a dinner invitation.

By the time Auntie M arrived, the house was surface sparkling (that's where everything has been pushed under something else to leave a tidy surface; come now, surely you know of this method) and younger two boys were out in the backyard demonstrating skateboard tricks to each other. The roast lamb sizzled and aromas of rosemary and mint wafted from under the deft hands of Other Half as Baby Angel, tears dried, peacefully read a novel on the couch.

As we sat to eat, No 1 Son arrived, apologising profusely as he had worked late, with clean hands: he's a mechanic.

We had a wonderful meal. There was excited talk all round. News of progress at work, exploits of Year 3 Spelling Quizzes, netball reports and older to younger brother constructive advice. :-D Auntie M filled us in on her family and experienced ours first hand. At its best!

After she had left , children had meandered off to their respective beds and rooms and Other Half was back at work (well, he had had half a day off to do the roast :-D), I reflected on the miracle that had occurred. You see, the flaming sword is hot. It does hurt. It wreaks havoc!BUT it cauterises wounds. It welds things together. It ignites the crucible of family through which things are purified and made good. The flame is love.

We should never be afraid of the 'messiness' that wielding our parenthood produces. Sometimes the end result takes longer than 24 hours to materialise.....but if our complex and needy group can manage such a transformation and smile at each other across the table with such undisguised joy in each other's company....anything is possible.

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