With three active boys, it’s a safe bet that at least once a week, I’m responding to a note from the teacher. One stomped on his juice box at recess to see how far the liquid would go (can I get credit towards the science fair for that?), one decided to break out the Bakugan’s instead of writing his spelling words in bubble letters (hello – I’m not raising cheerleaders) and the other one is snitching food from another kid’s cafeteria tray (apparently sending in a healthy lunch is now turning him into a thief). This week, Baby A exemplified less than stellar behavior, prompting a phone call from the principal.
I have the hardest time separating what my children do from who I am. It’s so easy to see their misbehavior as a direct reflection of my parenting skills (or lack thereof). As I was mulling the situation over, I was struck by what God must think when I exhibit behavior unbecoming of being His child. How quickly do I let a word fly or a flash of anger go unchecked? How often do I ball my fists and say “No, I’m not going to do that?” How does it paint Him as my Father when I don’t express His love and concern towards others?
I am ever more grateful for His grace as I see my own less-than-gracious behavior. I am encouraged that He still loves me, as I love my blessed little misbehaving squash blossom, and I am reminded that He is ever molding me, just as He is molding them.