Repeating Peace

Stomach flu.  Say those two words within 5 feet of me and you might get...well, you definitely won't get hugged.   Preschooling A had it a few weekends ago, in her bed, in our bed and at the dinner table. Yes, while we were eating.  So odd for July. But obviously the virus didn't look at the calendar before invading my baby.

Being the  awesome mom that I am, I freaked out about A throwing up while sleeping and choking and us not know until morning.  So I slept in her bed with her.  For two nights.

Mistake.

She then, once well, decided she couldn't go to bed without me.  "I want mommy."  That's all she'd say, then proceed to scream and run out of her room the minute we laid her down.  I tried putting one of those door handle thingys on, the kind only adults can operate, and apparently A is an adult.  She got that piece of cheap plastic off faster than I could even figure out how to put it back on. 

It quickly escalated in ridiculousness.

Get back in bed.  No. Pick child up lay her down.  Child stands up in bed and refuses to lay down. Mommy walks out and closes door. Child opens door and runs down the hallway. Mommy screams. Child cries. Mommy gets Daddy.  Daddy lays child down in her bed.  Child stands up, hollers "I want mommy." Daddy threatens. Child really cries. Daddy gets Mommy. Repeat.

Sounds fantastic, huh?

My own mama used to say something to me.  To all her children really.  Every time we got out of the car to go to school.  Or left the house for ball practice. And especially when we got behind the wheel at 16.  From as early as I can remember, which is really only back to like 8th grade because I have an awful memory, which also may be due to the same mama praying my memory away (which she admits to doing), but none the less I remember these words.

"May the Lord bless you and keep you, may his face shine upon you."

It was her mantra.  Ingrained on our hearts and in our souls.  So much so that my sister has even passed it on to her kids. I'm sure even at ages 8 and 5 they could quote the line to you.

What I didn't know then, but know now is that line, is scripture.  Found in Numbers.

"The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make his face shine on you and be gracious to you; the Lord turn his face toward you and give you peace."  Numbers 6:24-26

Thanks to my mama's prayer, I have been blessed.  Even in rough, scary, horrible times He has kept me. Safe. Loved. Under His wing.  And even now I see, no I feel, his face shining upon me.

But the last part of that verse, the part that mama left out, probably because we would have stopped listening after the first fifteen words anyway, but that part about peace. We're missing that.  As a family unit, most days, peace eludes us.  

And it makes me sad.

We try.  We really do.  We wake up kind and patient and loving.  But preschooling A argues one too many times and tells me no over the most mundane asks and peace refuses to hang around.  What's with that?

A year ago or so, Husband R and I took a family mentoring class together.  Our homework in that class, inspired by the book What is a Family by Edith Schaffer (which is not the easiest book to read), was to write a family mission statement.  This was before A knew how to talk back or to even really question anything.  But interestingly enough, even back then, on the top of both our lists, the mission for our family, was the word PEACE.


Even before we knew what was ahead, we knew we wanted our home to be calm. Quiet. A place of refreshment.  And to this date, it's not.  Most days it's loud because A is trying to get my attention.  And it's stressful because I'm putting A in time out for not listening.  And it's exhausting because it's the same thing over and over and over and over again.

Solution?  I went shopping.  

 And bought this for my wall.  My mother gave me the first half.  But I'm making the second half my prayer.

May the Lord give our family peace.

And because shopping alone will never be enough, because "without the word of God as my daily bread, I would honestly be buried in a pit so deep that I wouldn't recognize daylight," (Beth Moore) I also found and wrote down this verse.

"Repent, then, and turn to God, so that times of refreshing may come from the Lord." Acts 3:19

Its what I want.  It's our family mission.  Peace. Times of refreshing. 

Look, no one is perfect.  And if you "hold out for perfect, you'll end up holding nothing." - Ann Voskamp

So when I get angry at A for not listening. Because she won't. And when I scream. Because I will. 
I can repent.  And try again.  

Repeat.

Only because of the grace of God.