“The lies grow big in me when I’m angry,” he admits. Slight shoulders hunch high near black hair on a honey-colored neck. His mom listens, and they talk side by side, as the miles hum below them.
My boy yells loud from a tall cream-colored loft. “Noooo, me not sleep, Mom! Me get up!” Tantrums erupt from tiny lungs. Tirades and angry tears rage. In between bouts, I affirm good choices, and deal with bad choices. After one explosive outburst, while tears still fall, I hold him close. Kissing his sandy hair, I murmur in his ear, “Even when you are naughty, I love you. Even when you make bad choices, I love you.” The fight surprises me by how rapidly it leaves his body. Muscles and limbs soften, and his back presses in tight against my stomach. He leans his forehead against my forearm, and we snuggle in silence for a moment. “Sorry a being mean, mom.”
He works with me the same way, my Creator. My tantrums erupt from tiny lungs, and tearful tirades follow. “Did you hear what they said, God…?” or “But he…” and in between bouts my Abba affirms good choices and deals with my bad ones.
“The lies grow big in me when I’m angry,” I confess to him, “and I am afraid to trust it all completely. What if…?”
He grabs me close. Whispering against stick-straight auburn hair, or through letters in time, he says,
“The Lord is slow to anger and great in power..."
"…The Lord is good,
A refuge in times of trouble.
He cares for those who trust in him…”
Isn’t our God a gentle teacher? Through our tirades, or our kids’, or friends’, he is patient, loving, tender, and safe. I am striving to model that in my own interactions.
What helps to melt your angry heart, or helps to disarm another’s angry heart? (For those in email, you can join the discussion here.)