I blew my top yesterday. Yes. Something flipped inside of me. A trigger set me off. I yelled at my oldest, screamed at him in fact, enraged at his behavior and attitude. I knew somewhere within, that “still, small voice” sending warning signals to me to pull away and go breath, etc, but did I listen? Not hardly.
I can so relate to Paul when he expressed the struggle between the spirit and the flesh in the book of Romans. He said, “I want to do what is right, but I can’t. I want to do good, but I don’t. I don’t want to do what is wrong, but I do it anyway” (7:18-19). I didn’t really want to yell and rage, but I did.
Being a part of a recovery group has opened my eyes to so many things. One of them being the first step to recovery, and that is admitting that we are powerless over our addictions and compulsive behaviors. Is that an excuse? Is that a cop out? I used to think so. I fought so hard against this idea for a couple of years. I am just recently learning that it’s true. It’s actually at this point of humility that God’s mercy, grace and power really begin to shine. Only by admitting that I have a compulsive tendency to yell when I am angry can I truly begin to experience some measure of freedom from it.
I won’t bother relaying to you what precipitated the anger. Do you know why? Because it doesn’t matter. What matters is my reaction to the circumstance regardless of what the circumstance may be. This is what I teach my children, that they are only responsible for how they react, not for the choices of others. And again thanks to recovery, I am understanding the reasons behind why I react the way I do at times, the deeper reasons. And that is healing and freeing as well.
But the main reason I wanted to share this is to say that I still love me. In spite of my flaws, my weaknesses, my failures, my mishaps, I still love me. Yes, it may sound strange and even arrogant, but I spent so many years beating “me” up over all my imperfections. I was carrying so much shame because I couldn’t get my act together and be the perfect mother and wife that I thought I was supposed to be. I just knew the Lord must have had a sizable amount of disappointment in me, even though I knew He still loved me. I actually realize now that I thought He merely tolerated me.
This view has changed. And I couldn’t be more thankful. I now believe and am learning to understand that my Father loves me far more than I could fathom or imagine. He doesn’t just tolerate me, and He understand me when I fall, when I fail, when I blow it. Yet, it doesn’t change His love at all. I often sense Him drawing even closer to me in those moments. Isn’t that something? Because He loves me, then I can love me even in my brokenness and my mess ups. Even in my pride and selfishness. He is there, always there, beckoning me with His kindness and mercy and grace.
So, again I say I blew it. I did make amends with my son. I told him I was sorry for blowing up and yelling at him. And I made no excuses for that. Yet, at the end of the day, I still love me, because I am confident that my Heavenly Daddy still loves me. And if He loves me and created me fearfully and wonderfully, then I know He wants me to love and forgive myself as He does.