I couldn’t get her out the door fast enough this morning.
It was one of those no I don’t wanna you’re stupid I don’t love you mornings.
One of those mornings when an ugly seed plants itself in her belly. And so abruptly it blooms – sprouting angry, hateful words. They grow from the pit of her and spill from her mouth–one atop another–each limb packing a firm punch right into the heart of me.
And I have to step away. To breathe. That her overgrown vines not strangle me.
I haven’t mastered the pruning yet: to take a pair of garden scissors and patiently clip – gently separating thorn from blossom. Weed from seedling.
Instead I feel like a clumsy herbicide. Like I know no better than to spill gallon after gallon, wilting everything in my path.
My thumb isn’t green. I don’t have the tools.
These are my excuses.
Sorry excuses.
So again I turn my face upward. Full of questions. In search of guidance.
Then I cast my eyes down. With shame. Sorrow.
Please grant me the tools, the patience. Fill my shed with plows strong enough to withstand the cutting and the turning. With shovels so that I may dig deep. Shine away my rusted spots – spots that threaten to give way.
Allow me to fertilize a soil rich with patience. Love. Understanding. Strengthen the clay walls of my pot that they not crack under the pressure of stubborn thorns. Let me be rooted in you O Lord – that the fruit of my labor be nourished through your unending love. By your mercy and grace.
She gets on the bus.
I sigh.
I take a deep breath.
I wait.
Faithful that through Him I may nourish a bed of roses.
In spite of the thorns.
Your garden is flourishing(sp), there are always going to be a few thorns, but that is all part of the beautiful rose.
I’m so sorry your morning was icky, Darcie. I’m impressed with your ability to write so clearly and beautifully through the hurt she caused as well as through the worry you feel about your ability to prune well. Our kids know how to cut us down so well, don’t they, even though they love us? I decided to do something special for Taylor and took her to see the Nutcracker this year, just the two of us. Now Daddy has always been her favorite, but I know she loves me too. But when we got in the car that night to go, she said, “I wish Daddy were coming instead of you.” I was so hurt by that little comment that I cried on our way there. I know how you feel, and thanks for sharing it with us.
*Sigh* Beautiful post in spite of the pain and frustration. I pray for you many beautiful roses that grow and bloom into colorful, full bushes!
Beautiful post. Yes, our children sure know how to hurt us with their thorns. But you have a great perspective….and the ability to use the hurt to enhance your writing.
You have a beautiful way with words my friend.
The thorns hurt, but I’m sure you had your share of them as well and just look at what a gorgeous rose you are now. You bring light and grace and beauty to the world like no one else could, and she will too. Sometimes on a new bud, the thorn just appears bigger than the flower, but that will change soon enough.
Fact – rubbing alcohol should be used to clean your pruning shears while you are trimming rose bushes, to keep the diseased parts from spreading to other bushes.
Real life application – drink lots of wine while pruning away those thorns, so the prickly parts don’t spread to you as well.
You’re welcome.
I know those mornings. The ones where you just want them to come back home for a bit so you can have a “do-over.”
Hugs to you right now, and I know that when she gets home, she’ll have a big hug for you, too.
oh girl she is just lucky (blessed) to have you – and I am not looking forward to that phase . . .
Hang in there….((((hugs)))
Beautiful post! Your family is blessed beyond measure to have such an understanding and compassionate mom and wife. One day when she has children, she’ll understand you and fully appreciate you!
Wow. It is posts like this that take my breath away and make me thankful for people like you who can put such eloquence into words. Thank you. Perfectly said.
I’m sorry you had a rough morning…what a beautiful way to explain it. I, too, am hitting some rough parenting spots. (((HUGS)))
Yes, it sure hurts when your children turn away from you.
parenting brings you to your knees like little else, doesn’t it? but that’s the only place we can go!
Really beautiful. Hang in there. We all hit these rough spots in parenting…maybe they aren’t the exact same circumstances, but they are all rough in one way or another. Wish that I could express them in such a lovely manner.
I may have missed the point here, but what I read is “kids suck”. Well, that was probably just my interpretation. lol I have three daughters 6-16. And they do totally suck. Sigh…..
I love teenage girls and Im excited for Haley to one day become one. But it’s this ‘mom of girls’ right of passage that I am not looking forward too. Especially knowing I will probably not handle it with such grace and poetry.
He has equipped you, the fact that you see the roses, that’s what they’ll be!
Oh hun I am sorry you had such a bad morning. Parenting is not always a fun job, and the days like that are the worst.
Know you are doing great, and that we each have had days, weeks MONTHS like that.
Hugs!
Love you Darc♥
This post is beautiful in its bittersweetness and humility, Darcie.
I secretly love it when you don’t post as often because I catch up on some archives.
I actually read it a few nights ago and couldn’t formulate an insightful comment to add. Ok, so I still can’t but just want to let you know I read it and I love it.
In your gorgeous words are echoes of my past, present, and my future (I’m sure).
You are an amazing mom.
I take that as quite a compliment, coming from someone who so poetically strings her own words. Thanks, Dayna.