mercy

Just as I was about to go to bed last night, my elder lad appeared at the bathroom door needing my assistance (he had awoken after having been asleep for a couple of hours already).  When I might have been inclined to gently insist that he do the things that needed to be done by himself (as he is at times inclined to let me do them for him if I am willing), I sensed that he really needed his mama's help.  And something told me to tell him simply, "I love you."  This changed the entire dynamic between us, as he had come into the bathroom in a very ill humor, and afterward seemed relieved. Together we took care of business, he crawled back into his bed, and fell fast asleep.

Contrast this scene with the one that played out upon our arrival home this morning from a fun outing.  Everyone was hungry, tired, cranky -- and edgy.  Each of us snarked at the other until we were at last seated for lunch (which took some convincing).  Soon a smile emerged from someone's face, and then laughter.

How I wish I'd handled the second situation more like the first.  I wish I'd focused on the task at hand of getting lunch on the table, instead of getting caught up in the drama that was unfolding.  In so doing, I would've shown today what I showed last night:

mercy.

I just read this interesting post about a mother's works of mercy day in and day out, and it really resonated with me.  There is a major difference in my handling of the two situations: in the former I was able to be merciful, recognizing and responding to the need underneath the snarly exterior instead of reacting more negatively.

I really get upset with myself when I give into the weakness toward irritability and snappishness like I did at lunch time, but I realize that being merciful with myself (without excusing the poor behavior) is necessary in order to model mercy for my children, which is really the lesson I want them to learn. I also want to help them learn to recognize when they are feeling tired, hungry, cranky, or a combination of such things, and how to help themselves by tending to their needs without lashing out at other people (such as picking on one's sibling or speaking rudely to one's mother).

I wish them to learn mercy, both by experiencing it from us, and in extending it to each other and those around them.  Such a thing is best learned by observation and experience, as we all well know in our own experiences of Christ's infinite mercy and the mercy we've received at the hands of others. 

When I don't meet my expectations, I can all too easily dwell on my slip-up.  Ultimately this only serves to distract me from taking care of my children.  The best I can do is to apologize for my mistake, make amends, seek forgiveness, recognize what contributed to my mistake so as to prevent it happening in the future, and move on.

In my quest for everyday sanctity, I have to be merciful with myself.  Maybe my children will see the steps I take (especially if I spell them out and am consistent about them), and God willing learn from my mistakes without having to make their own. At least I hope so.

When it comes to my expectations for my children, I have to remind myself that they are in fact children and that they will occasionally mess up.  This is (usually) nothing personal against me.  It's just a fact of childhood.  We all make mistakes, after all.  Our mistakes do affect others, so when we make them we must take steps to make things right as much as we are able.  And when we have been wronged, we are called to extend mercy and forgiveness.  I hope to equip my bambini with the tools to meet their needs without harming other people.  In our fallen world, I know this won't always work out.

This work of motherhood is humbling.  Mama's mistakes are plainly there for her children to see.  I hope how I handle my handling of my mistakes will be of use to them when they must own up to theirs, and I hope they will dispense mercy with each other as freely as they do their laughter and forgiveness.