07-18-2008
In the Comfort of my Home a Battle Rages
By RenaeNegative thoughts crash around in my head. I try to disregard them, but a tender spot is nicked and the infection spreads. I recognize this place. I’ve been here before listening to lies and battling them with my pride.
This realm of home and family and children seems so safe. It is an atmosphere I create and manage. The tasks are completed day after day, week after week. I am comfortable here looking for joy in the mundane and hope in the difficulties, perhaps too comfortable.
Distractions encroach pretending to be innocent tasks while consuming my moments. Years pass in these unnoticed hours, and they cannot go by unbalanced and scattered. Denying my own selfishness with excuses scratches skin and allows more germs penetrate my thoughts. Inadequacy and failure sting.
Then my 4-year-old daughter clobbers a 2-year-old for taking her vacation Bible school craft that says, ironically, “We can share our toys.”
I receive the report from a friend, the friend whose 2-year-old received the beating. And I wonder anew at the power of forgiveness and grace. There is no pride to cover the anger of a 4-year-old soberly confessing a bad day.
The facade crashes around me, and I am humbled. My good habits obscure the battle in my mind from the majority. Am I trying to hide the truth from myself as well?
You are looking at things as they are outwardly. If anyone is confident in himself that he is Christ’s, let him consider this again within himself…(2 Corinthians 10:7)
The thoughts will be purged. They are part of the clutter and distraction which opens my soul to destructive ideas that pry at my resolve. Absurd ideas that never should have stuck must be abandoned, but I cannot do it alone.
But he who boasts is to boast in the Lord, for it is not he who commends himself that is approved, but he whom the Lord commends. (2 Corinthians 10:17-18)
Pride is not commendable, nor is it powerful enough to displace the lies. I clearly see the neglect of daily considering.
Forgiveness and grace emerge again when my 4-year-old cries at the realization of hurting her friend. Through her sobs she scribbles a note my heart deciphers,
I love you. Please forgive me.
Followed by jubilant hugs and wrongs forgotten. It is a new day.
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