Cut Me Some Slack, Little People

“So in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you, for this sums up the Law and the Prophets” (Matthew 7:12).

Did you know the Golden Rule applies to parenting? This never really occurred to me—until my daughter broke the rule.

“Mom, you should NOT have done this!” My five-year-old stormed into the bathroom where I stood hooking silver hoops into my earlobes. She glared at me, her lips pursed and a fist perched on each hip.

“Pardon me?” I turned from the mirror to face her. “What exactly did I do?”

“You left the car door open all night!” she hissed. “Dad just went into the garage and saw it!”

Oh. I did? My brain rewound to the night before—a family dinner outing to Applebee’s. I recalled unloading two kids, two water cups, a bulky purse and a Styrofoam to-go box out of the minivan, so it’s entirely possible my juggling fingers forgot to push the button on the automatic sliding door. Sure, that sounds like something I would do.

“Well, I’m sorry. I’m human, and I make mistakes.” Annoyed, I held my accuser’s stare. “And I don’t appreciate your tone, young lady. How would you feel if I scolded you every time you made a mistake?”

Whoa. A sudden realization cut my lecture short. I do scold her for making mistakes. Darn.

There’s a difference between correcting and criticizing. We grown-ups know this. At work, in marriage, among close friends—accountability is healthy. But if somebody’s going to point out a weakness, I want them to be nice about it. Tell me the truth, of course, but please—do it with gentleness and respect.

“Always be humble and gentle. Be patient with each other, making allowance for each other’s faults because of your love” (Ephesians 4:2, NLT).

I’ve failed my kids at this. I didn’t even realize it until my daughter dished out a taste of my own chiding. How many times have I reacted to harmless errors with impatience instead of grace? I’m ashamed of the examples. Can you relate to any of these?

Me: Who took the masking tape?
Daughter: I’m sorry, Mom. I used it for a craft, and I forgot to put it back in the junk drawer.
Me: No more masking tape for you.
What I wish I’d said: We can all be forgetful sometimes. I’ll help you look for it.

Me: Ouch! You stepped on my foot!
Daughter: I’m sorry, Mom. I was practicing my ballet.
Me: Can you dance somewhere else, please?
What I wish I’d said: The kitchen is too small for pirouettes. Let’s go in the playroom so you can show me your fancy moves.

Me: Okay, it’s time to add the cinnamon.
Daughter: Here it is, Mom!
Me: Aaack! You just poured cumin into our cookie batter! Now we have to start all over.
What I wish I’d said: Spicy cookies coming right up! {Insert crazy peals of laughter}

When my daughter harped on me for the car door blunder, I heard my ugly, perfectionist self in her sassy mouth. If I expect my kids to cut their poor mother some slack, then I must set the example first. More kindness. More forgiveness. More grace.

In other words, less me—and more Jesus. After all, how can any of us give grace unless we receive it from him first?

“So I left the van door open last night, huh?” I groveled to my husband.

“Yeah, no big deal.”

“Really? That’s not what the minivan police said.” I slipped him a sly grin. “But I’m glad you forgive me.”

“Of course.” He paused for a second and leaned in for the jab. “If the battery had died, though, then I’d be mad.”

Oh, how I love this family. Even when they scold me.

Blessings,
Becky

This post is brought to you from the Time Out archives.