Friday, July 18
Chaos describes my day perfectly. Tempers and tears, hurts left and right, everyone itching for a fight. We’re here at this pristine, private school where Chris is teaching a summer course for three weeks. Everything is perfect around me. Literally, there is nothing to complain about. If something breaks it’s fixed the next day. But I feel completely uncivilized, because my children won’t listen to anything I say, even if I raise my voice.
Today I actually had a plan that I was excited about. Most days I don’t. I follow my childrens’ lead, and celebrate that I have self-driven children, while lamenting that I am not a self-driven Mama.
We were going to play “camp,” because we just had a great week of family camp at Riverside in Story City, Iowa where I was a counselor 18 years ago. Just like at camp we were going to sing songs, then read a bible passage with the Insights/questions/applications method that had worked so beautifully at camp. Then we would pray about how we could love for the day. It didn’t take long at all to remember why I don’t usually have a plan.
Right off the bat we were interrupted by a maintenance man. The singing turned into a colossal fight over which version of the Hippopotamus Song we would sing, and only one out of four was left to read the passage with me.
When I was reading to Stewart he told me that I give too many details when I talk. It hurt because it’s true. I don’t know why I resist this insight so often from the males in my family. I know that I need to listen if I want to be an effective teacher and have better relationships. But I proceeded to lecture him on how women have more words than men and mine have been so unwelcome for years. Again, an uncivilized pity party.
Stewart’s attempt to love even fell flat. He had worked hard to make a game on paper for Twill, who didn’t want anything to do with it.
So it was a whole yucky day of nothing but fighting, with this residue hanging over me of “Did it really have to be so awful? Why am I such a failure?” But in the background was a stronger, calming voice whispering, “It’s not over yet. Everything is redeemable. Everyone is redeemable.”
Even in the midst of the messiness I heard myself telling my children the truth, that I like our family because we do the hard work of staying home and fighting long enough to learn how to get along.
Maybe it can’t be avoided, the fighting, if it really is okay to be messy and real at home. It feels good to know that no one is going to bail just because we all stunk it up today. We’re a family and that means learning to love each other at our worst. And we do like each other even more after sticking it out through these yucky days.
The good news is that after two days of staying home and fighting we hit that magic sweet spot where we’re enjoying each other’s company more deeply, without constant distraction. We started making obstacle courses that lead to musical chairs that lead to a scavenger hunt, that reminds me why I enjoy not having a plan.
Tonight I started rereading Madeleine L’Engle’s book, “Walking on Water: Reflections on Faith and Art. She described art (including music and writing, etc) as “cosmos from chaos.” It compelled me to write about the beauty in my totally chaotic day.
Addendum
My negativety towards planning the other day is totally a personal battle. Playing camp went much better with revisions, namely fewer words. Plans with the kids can be helpful, with flexibility. Especially if they’re in the spirit of writing and gardening, where I love revising and weeding.