Wishing all of you a blessing filled season of peace and joy.
There is a monumental task glaring at me from a dark corner of the living room. I am trying desperately to not look at it so as to not be coerced into tackling it. I keep trying to tell myself that it’s fine in there. The living room is clean enough. It doesn’t need to be perfect, I’m not perfect, it works.
There it sits.
This enormous pile waiting to be sorted.
I’ve tried wishing it away. I’ve tried threatening it (doesn’t work with my kids either). Tried bribing it.
Still, it sits.
All of the shorts, short sleeves and too-small clothing for my boys, all FIVE of them, piled high in a basket. Begging me to sort and store it all.
I don’t wanna.
It’s starting to get to me though. Guess it’s time.
Tomorrow is the day. Pray for me! I’m goin’ in!
It is such a momentous occasion for anyone, but especially so, him. You see, if you remember (see my last post) last Monday was the very, very first time he ever even showed an inkling of understanding of responsibility for his own actions. We have been contemplating holding him back from this sacrament for a while to see if that would resolve, feeling as if he weren’t quite ready for it. I do understand that there are many graces received from the sacrament, whether or not there is perfect contrition etc, but couldn’t see the point in making him go through the motions of something he truly did not understand. How could there be contrition if he’s done nothing wrong? It’s a quandary that has riddled our parenting as well. I want to be able to discipline my children, but if there is no teaching or understanding then it’s only punishment. There is no real opportunity to learn or grow from correction if there is no understanding of responsibility for your actions. That doesn’t keep a consequence from happening. If you hit your brother, no matter whose fault you believe it to be, you MUST apologize. You must also be removed from activity until such time as you can function without exploding on everyone around you. There is no choice, but there is also no learning. Only a feeling of injustice and anger, neither of which were feelings I wanted to have associated with this sacrament!
What is funny is that while I was fighting an interior battle with myself about the wisdom of moving forward and praying fervently for an answer that was clear to me, God was working just as fervently on my precious boy. At just the right moment, which is His way, the understanding came in so clear a fashion that it couldn’t be ignored. An answer to a mother’s prayer was given. My beautiful son was beginning to grasp the understanding needed to begin this wonderful sacrament. Forgiving could be received, and then given freely from an understanding heart.
So, on Saturday morning, at nine o’clock, my son had his firs,t of what will hopefully be a lifetime, of confessions. His soul was washed clean and crisp and wonderful and my mother’s heart rejoiced with the angels!
In the week since, he has been very attentive to the wrongs that he might be committing. There has been an unprecedented interest and drive to complete school work with control of temper and outbursts like I have never seen. He still struggles, but he is coming out ahead more often than not now. He is responding more with love than emotion than I have ever seen him do.
My heart is so full right now of the miracles that God allows us to see. My son was healed. Not in the jump out of the wheelchair and dance across the stage kind of way, but with a quiet and unassuming breath of God. He still has a very long road ahead of him, but by His grace we will get through stronger, happier for it.
What a beautiful time of year, new birth, new life.
My heart is full, and all’s grace.