Confession #3 (part 4)

I've already lost some of you with the confusion in the title, but that's what happens when you have a follow-up to #1! You get #3...which is actually part 4! You didn't even notice did you...now you're checking back to figure out what the heck I'm talking about...no, I'm not smoking anything...sheesh.  

Henceforth, (it's been a long time since I threw around my stellar vocab...prepare yourself to be amazed) I shall (snicker) refrain (bwahaha) from acknowledging the actual number of series installments (dadgum) and shall simply chronicle (holla!) the subsequent points of interest. (boo ya!) :)  I need massive amounts of therapy.  Call my agent.

Now where were we...I even lost myself...ah yes...confession of a grieving mommy #3...here we go.

Referring back to the conception of this series, I shared with you my struggles to be truly compassionate with other people and their trials.  Well, confession #3 hits much closer to home.  Some of the most difficult things I have to process throughout this grieving process are the renewed, or even fresh struggles, of my own family members.  I mean...they were there...they know how gut-wrenching this has been...so why exactly are we fighting over who sits where in the van?!?! Are you kidding me right now? Of course, you could throw any of the bazillion things our kids bicker about...but please tell me it's not just our kids...into this equation...but holy hell-in-a-handbasket, ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?! 

The argument could be made that tensions are higher, nerves are frayed to the very brink.  True. 

You could add that the family is taking out their anger and intense grief on each other. Most definitely.  

One could even go as far as to say this would be the classic example of "conflict reveals character." No doubt.

But c'mon!  Ain't nobody got time for that. HA.  Sorry...couldn't help myself at this late hour. This actually reminds me of the heart ache the kids were experiencing when we first moved to Iowa in January '12.  We were all reeling from the whirlwind for quite some time, but a couple of the kids struggled to a greater depth than the rest of us.  I remember getting on to one of them pretty sternly one night about their room being a mess after several days of parental demands.  This kiddo burst into tears and cried, "Well if you hadn't moved us to Iowa, it wouldn't be this bad!" Ummm...hmmm...nice try.  Now pick up your socks.  It sounds so comical really, but don't we all try to blame our behavior on our circumstances at some point...or usually...or always?!?

Seriously though, I would liken this scenario to the parable of the servant who was forgiven much only to turn around and refuse to forgive the minute debt owed to him. It seems a greater offense to abuse the grace that's been shown to you by refusing even a sliver of that grace to someone else. They should know better.  

And therein lies the rub. So should I...so should I.  As is so often the case in parenting, God uses the lessons I'm trying to teach my children to grip my own heart and remind me to look in the mirror. Yes, I want my children to cut each other some slack given our family crisis...I wanted them to do that before we ever brought Zane and Zoe home from China. But I also recognize that I need to do the same for them. Being a grown-up stinks sometimes.

The moral of the story? Sometimes a grieving family attacks itself and pulls apart instead of pulling together.  Nothing would make the enemy happier.  So with God's help, I'm trying to remember we fight not against flesh and blood. We need each other...and as much as it depends on me, we will live at peace...I'm trusting in the goodness of God to provide the patience and kindness it will take to do so.