Not being able to govern events, I govern myself

Not being able to govern events, I govern myself, and apply myself to them, if they will not apply themselves to me.
--Michel de Montaigne

My kid provides fine fodder for these here "Thoughts…,." Or maybe being a parent makes for the good feed…

At school on Wednesday, she had a "challenging" day in her Spanish class and ultimately brought home a "red" which means she broke a phenomenal rule or an extraordinary number of rules and, in most cases, your parent has to be called. Bless her teacher, he didn't call me. He probably heard my rage over the phone the last time my kid had to call me and report her behavior. Bless him for saving this child while she was at school.

But she had to come home. Upon my learning of the red and the reasons for it, I immediately pulled the brown truck over and flew into my rage – the one she missed earlier. After letting her know that this behavior – rolling her eyes (disrespecting) a teacher/any adult – was unacceptable, I asked her why she had acted the way she did. She said the teacher was yelling at her and disrespecting her.

Alright, before you ol' school folks say, "but you're a child and she's an adult and you don't, yada, yada, yada…", be very clear that I said all that. And very loudly. So loudly that I heard myself and I did not like what I heard.

I told her just what you said, that an adult is to be respected. Period. And I told her that no matter what, she is supposed to get herself together, no matter what anybody says or does to her. And just like a smack in the face, it hit me that the way I was approaching this situation was wrong. That the things I was saying –er, yelling at her, were wrong. I needed to take a step back.

I explained to my baby – first and foremost, she is my baby – birthed of me, nurtured inside me, connected to me, and really, on loan yet entrusted to me. And although I did not like her behavior, my behavior at that moment was appalling and excessive. My responsibility to her is to teach her/show her how to make better choices. After all, the last time I disrespected somebody, God didn't get in my face and yell at me/try to shame me to stop my spiteful conduct. Where was my compassion in teaching? Where was the compassion for my child?

So I explained to my baby that, yes, adults were to be respected, but that as a human being, she deserved respect as well. Whether it was a teacher or me, her parent, we were obliged to show her kindness and respect. Ephesians 5:21 (MSG) states that "out of respect for Christ, be courteously reverent to one another." That means young, old, rich, poor, dirty, immaculate, whatever, out of respect for Jesus, we must respect/be polite/favorable/positive to one another.

But then I told my GG that everybody doesn't feel this way or know this or remember to act this way at all times. I told her sometimes people allow the stuff going on around them make them forget that everybody is to be respected. Being a School Counselor and working with teachers, students, and their parents, I know firsthand that it's easy to forget that even kids should be respected. We were taught as children to be seen, not heard and told to respect our elders. Rarely did we hear that we as children should be respected, too. So then what happens is only natural to us humans – when you feel disrespected/disregarded/mistreated, you lash out. My baby's lashing out cost her losing lunch in the classroom, the chance to decide what we'll eat for dinner on Friday, a chance to (possibly) ever receive a fair shake from her Spanish teacher, and some of her own self-respect. That's a lot for a kid to lose. But…

I then told my joy that there would be many people for the rest of her life that may disrespect her in some way, and as long as they did not put their hands on her or attack her emotionally, it would serve her better if she walked away. By walking away, I mean just get quiet, hold your mouth, and if you can, physically walk on away. In the getting quiet and holding your mouth, you give the hostility just spewed time to resonate in the air and ricochet like soot back into their face. While you're quiet, you're praying for them, praying that they would be rescued from the enemy of disdain and derision. And you walk away/turn away because none of what was said or done was yours and you certainly don't want to be stained by the funk they sent out. You walk away letting them be foolish and marked by  themselves. 

Of course my 9 year-old was confused because to her, walking away meant you let them get away with dissin' you. So I reminded her of Luke 23:33-43 where Jesus, the ultimate walk-er away-er, was being crucified and how the crowd incessantly mocked and teased him, saying "if you're really who you say you are, save yourself!" I told her, Jesus could have done what she did; He could have come off that cross and knocked every last one of them sandal-wearing suckers out with just the roll of His eyes. But He chose – He chose – not to simply because there was something greater that was supposed to happen. He knew what He was there for and He knew there was nothing that could stop it. He knew that it must happen in order that we – me, her, the Spanish teacher, and everybody else – be free of/forgiven for our failures and could have life eternally.

So He let them say whatever they wanted and near the end, He asked His Father to forgive them because they didn't have a clue what they were doing. I told my precious lamb that her task, one of the hardest she would ever have to practice, was to act in this same way. Not because she was supposed to be a martyr or victim, but because she was called to a higher purpose/use/end. I reminded her that her current job was to be the best student she could be, to never give less than her best, and to think about the bigger picture – getting home without hearing mama's mouth. Okay, no, hearing God say, "well done, my child."

Yeah, this was a big one for my kid, a lesson in self-control and compassion that requires higher order thinking and the removal of Self, which she is growing capable of. But God's working on both of us, helping us to get ourselves together in the right way/walk away, and, tomorrow will be another day.