Im-Patience, Passion, and Parenting

Impatience shouts. I’ve been trying to play more the observer — when I have the eventual melt-down, to open up and see what brought me to that ill moment. Unfailingly, it’s  stress, pressure, feeling like I must do such-a-thing, in such-a-way, to meet such-an-expectation. At least that’s what it looks like for me. This is simple, but I think my emotions communicate the breaking points my mind tries to overlook. They’re my heart in “Stop ignoring me!” swing.

When I’m impatient, restless, that’s the time to step back and identify.

• In a relationship, is my integrity being challenged? Is my intuition calling attention to legitimate fear? Or is my heart rebelling against sanctification, resisting the open space where discipline and generosity would humble the voice of self-service?
• In my schedule, is the engagement a benefit? Or does it compromise peace, and the things I more deeply long to be doing?
• In my spirit, what is going on? Is my heart responding to a tension between God, my flesh, my worldly influences? Is there spiritual attack?

One thing I know: Impatience indicates that something is wrong.

Passion excites. What drives me to impatience is when I don’t have passions satisfied! “Seek ye first the kingdom of God, and His righteousness; and all these things will be added unto you.” (Matt. 6:33)  In spirit and in truth, the more my passions conform to God’s passions, the more I can delight in pursuing them full-heartedly, joyfully, and free from repercussions.

Parenting grows [a child -- and hello, a parent, too]. That I am impatient with my children points to sin: either mine, theirs, or both. I have broken Noah’s tender heart with my impatience, in following pressures from a third party. Braeden, the thick-skinned one, frequently feels impatience towards us who would ask him to pause a moment. (He’s learning well.) A year ago, I would teach Noah something, but want him to hurry up already, so I could go on pursuing my  more immediate priority — revealing my sin (especially when it was So You Think You Can Dance?) More recently, we feel impatient when Braeden interrupts dinner conversation. So we’re teaching him how to manage that situation to where he can be both heard and respectful.

The thing that hurts, and the thing that’s hard to say, is that I don’t understand what my friends-who-are-unquestionably-committed-parents quite mean when they say they don’t have the patience to spend time with their child. I don’t trust I hear the motive correctly. Is it that Child is driving Mom crazy, and she needs moments to herself? Is it that parenting is a big, multi-faceted job, and she feels there are experts who could be helpful along the journey? Is it that she sees a handful of options, but none seem to suit, especially the stay-at-home ones? I don’t know what’s behind, “I don’t have the patience to be with my child.” Parenting and teaching are rather synonymous in my head. Not everyone should homeschool. Not every mommy will teach her child directly, the skills of X, Y, and/or Z. Yet parents are teachers, and always will be. Whether it’s academics, character, ethic, worldview, leisure conduct, religion, relationship skills,  self-identity, or lack of it all — no parent can escape being also a teacher.

My heart dearly wants to say that patience is not a human characteristic. It’s fruit of the Spirit. Where God issues His blessing, there is peace. There is patience. Where He has not, patience fails.

I want to be on the sniff. Armed with bible knowledge and a houndishly sensitive nose. Jesus says, “…Hear my voice….” I’ll paraphrase, quite loosing the shepherd context, and say, “Sniff me out.” I hesitate to plan far in advance, because I want to be fragranced by His directing, before I commit to my own ardent, well-intended, foolish-laid plans. This I believe: God does not want us to try harder to cope with chaos. He wants us to seek out peace, which is the sound of His voice, the aroma of His fruit.

I need the Body just as much as the next girl. Let me know if you think my nose is disjointed. We need each other, almost as much as we need the grace that connects us.