I rapped the window to get my husband's attention.
He saw me. He saw the dramatic gestures I used to impart the knowledge that I wanted him to get Rowan in for a bath. I saw him turn toward Rowan and tell him to scoot inside. I saw Rowan ignore him.
Each time I felt someone was turning up the temperature inside me. By the time my naughty little deaf boy came inside I was angry.
I told him in no uncertain terms that third time obedience is not acceptable. That ignoring Daddy is hurtful and disrespectful.
I told him these things rather loudly. Justifying, if he acts like he has a hearing problem, I'm going to treat him like he has a hearing problem.
He looked at me and said, "When I'm a daddy I'm never going to yell at my kids."
I replied sincerely, "I hope you never do."
He was thoughtful for a moment, then he looked up alarmed and said, "I hope I don't pick up your bad habits!"
Last Saturday we were working as a family in our woods. Dave was wearing what Posy refers to as his "wraps" and using his chain saw to cut down trees. The kids and I were cleaning the brush as soon as it hit the ground, stacking it in burn piles to light our winter nights. I tossed tree trunks to the boys and they picked them up and put them on the pile. I was careful to make sure they were out of the way before I tossed.
I picked up a bigger one and debated whether or not to throw it.
"Okay boys this is a big one. Move out of the way."
I saw Rowan walking away from me and I tossed.
For some reason he decided to disobey. He turned back toward me and the log hit him in the chest. A wail cut the air. I was with him in a second. I lifted his shirt and saw a purplish circle on his heart. I saw an indentation where the wood hit. I was sick and terrified.
"Why did you turn! I told you to walk away!"
I led my crying boy up to be iced and comforted.
He was okay. The swelling went down. No damage was done.
But it got me thinking.
I am the adult.
Under no circumstances should I be throwing words, trunks, or anything else at my child.
Who cares, if they wouldn't hit him if he was only obedient.
What comfort is there in that when the heart is damaged?
I know that no matter which way I turn, I will encounter a God of love.
I know that third time obedience is a victory in my walk with God.
I desperately want my son to know this.
I need to learn some new habits.
Habits he need not be afraid to pick up.