There’s a buzzing in between my ears, growing louder every moment. I am surrounded by people, but no one is listening to me! My shoulders are hunched; my fists clenched; something has to be done. Right now! So I shout. My kids freeze (four daughters, ages one to eight) and stare at me with expressions that range from startled to frightened to bewilderment.
This is not a shining moment of motherhood. This is my expression of fear that I’m failing, my feeling of powerlessness in a realm where I am supposed to rule.
Do you remember what it feels like to be yelled at? For many of us, except perhaps those who have recently experienced military training, it’s been years since a person with authority over us has shouted commands or condemnations. I distinctly remember one day when I was the victim of road rage. This might be an everyday occurrence if you live in a traffic-clogged metropolitan area, but I live in a small city. I was at the stop sign beside our library, pulling snacks out of my purse and handing them back to my kids. I must have missed a chance to pull out onto Main Street, because the car behind me gunned its engine loudly, and then roared around me, pulling into the left lane. Then the driver, a woman, rolled down her window to shout at me, and while everything she said is not printable, I know she asked me two [rhetorical] questions: “What’s the matter with you? Are you stupid?”
Even though I am usually fairly confident expressing myself, I could only stare at her, open-mouthed. I laughed shakily, explaining to my kids that the lady was really angry she had to wait. But my hands trembled on the steering wheel for the whole ride home. I questioned myself, I was unable to focus, and unable to answer my kids’ further questions.
We might not use this crazy lady’s explicit words with our children, but often, I know my tone conveys this message. Children understand our expressions and tone better than we realize, and when our hearts are screaming “you fool!” they know it, and their beings shudder and shake, just as mine did that day behind the steering wheel.
Jesus said that calling a brother in Christ a fool is a perilous sin, one that puts us “in danger of hell fire” (Matthew 5:22). Likewise, Jesus said that causing a child to sin is an act that deserves a punishment worse than death (Matthew 18:6), and again, that we should not hate children, who have angels watching over them (Matthew 18:10).
Paul’s admonition to the young women in Titus 2:4 was to love their children. The Greek word he used in that context was a love specific between mother and children: philoteknos, which combines the Greek words for “friend” and “child.” I think Paul knew it was easy for mothers to love their children, in the general English sense of the word. It’s harder to like them, to enjoy their company, as we feel toward friends.
Parents, if you need to leave the room, or close your eyes, or take a few deep breaths when you see bad behavior or a big mess, please do that, instead of immediately reacting with that “you fool!” message in your shouting voice. I know that’s exactly what I need to do, several times a day. I’ve found though, that the closer I stay to God throughout the day, waking early to meditate on and study His Word and pray; setting my timer for ten minutes of prayer and Bible reading midday; and reading God’s Word with my children and offering up real prayers with them (not just rote mealtime prayers), the more calm I am. God extends His grace to me when I ask for it, every moment, all day.