Modeling

I awakened too late.

I leapt from the bed and called to my husband on my way to the bathroom - "It's almost eight!"

It just went downhill from there. I couldn't find anything small enough to wear that fit nicely over my little belly, but my old clothes were too snug. Children moved too slowly to get out of my way, and many shoulders were pushed to the side as I moved from one end of the house to the other, packing a diaper bag, rounding up Bibles, scarfing a bowl of cereal. Eliana's hair would not cooperate, and I redid it three times, the last being right before we rushed out the door at ten 'til nine.

During the entire car trip, I groused at everyone for something or other. Even as I spoke and was met with silence, I knew I was crushing spirits, and not helping my family enter into a worshipful spirit; but I did not stop.

And when we sat down to sing and pray and listen, my sons began to (finally) react to my attitude. I repeatedly reminded them to sit up, face forward, follow the words and sing; all things they already know to do in that environment. I hissed and grabbed, and my exasperation only mounted as the lesson began but my husband stayed in his seat at the front of the room, for he was leading worship this day. Leading.

I looked to my left at Corban's teary eyes, and to my right at Micah's slumped shoulders. I remembered Eliana's deliberate disobedience moments earlier when I asked her to sit and she stood instead, eyeing me warily.

I was not leading.

I was demanding.

I was reacting.

I was unloving.

My spirit in the fifty minutes before we left for worship had shown my children how one behaves when things are not going her way. I did not show them self-control, nor did I listen to that Voice, the one that tried to whisper in my ear...Beloved, feed...love...lead. I shook it off and charged recklessly ahead, and now I saw the fruits of my actions.

Who feels like obeying a Mama who asks you to use self-control and sit still, when she doesn't use it to calm herself? Who feels like obeying a Mama when she asks you to worship with a smile while she sits, straight-mouthed, ready to pounce on a mistake? Who can follow the leading of someone who does not follow the leading of her own Master?

My anger is rarely, if ever, righteous. It can always be traced back to me; to a failing on my part, a lacking. It is difficult to swallow, yet it is true.

I pulled boys to my side, Eliana safely penned in at our feet, and soothed their hurt with pats and gentle squeezes. I turned to Galatians and read again of fruit, and breathed prayers for forgiveness, seeing clearly the fruit of *me* this morning.

I will remember. Though I desire to awaken early every day and move things forward in a good way for my family, I suspect this may happen again; that I might sleep too long and be in a rush. But instead of taking it out on my children, or even myself, I will try to model His behaviour, so that in modeling after me, my children are modeling Him as well.