Brody is many marvelous things... creative, deeply feeling and expressive, joyful, quick witted, and tender.  But while all these things may be true of him one moment, the next minute the tide shifts and he becomes emotionally distraught and explosive.  Thankfully I've come to know my son, as I've studied him for nearly 6 years now, and I can practically predict when the pendulum will swing from one extreme to the other.  Almost always his hits, kicks, and pushes happen when he is most desirous of friendship and acceptance.  When children are having fun and he longs to be included, but is not... when he has a play-date with a friend but the friend is consumed with his lego creation and not Brody's game of dress up... when he's playing happily with his Brothers only to have his big Brother change his plans and ride off down the street with another.  The emotions that fly over his face are like dark clouds, and they descend quickly.  And so I must watch him carefully, to help him navigate the waters of social play here in our home, at the park, and on the cul de sac.

And so I've had some trepidation over sending him to Kindergarten.  But I believe it's just the thing for him, since Kindergarten is much more than A,B,Cs and 1,2,3s.  Kindergarten is where little people learn to be part of a unit that works together, a unit that is bigger and more like the world than our safe and accepting homes.  Kindergarten is still nurturing and grace based, but there are turns to be taken, and other simple but crucial lessons to learn.

Last Saturday Brody's school hosted a Kindergarten Picnic for the incoming class of 2024 and their families.  BBQ filled the air, mingling with the sweet sound of children playing, and the weather was perfect.  And then it happened.  I had dared to have a conversation with another parent when I felt a gentle tap upon my shoulder.  It was the Vice Principle, and his hand laid gently, but with resolve, upon my Brody's shoulder.   Simply put, Brody had quarreled with his daughter and then kicked her in the chest.  I was instantly heart-broken.  It wasn't embarrassment over having been caught by my son's administrator... my heartache was true grief over my son's sinfulness, his foolishness, and his inability to control his emotions.  I breathed the words, "I'll take care of this" to his gentle captor and scooped my son up into my arms.  We went to an empty bench, where I held him close and whispered over and over again... "how sad, Brody, how sad.  I'm sad, Brody, aren't you sad?"

I wanted my son to see my own sadness, with the hope that it would lead him to repentance, but all he could communicate was how wrong the little girl had been.  "She cut... she was being mean... she wouldn't let me have a turn..."  

"I understand," I affirmed him, "she did wrong, she did wrong, Son... but many people are going to do wrong to you in your life, and you can't go around kicking them all in the chest.  The Bible tells us that we may be angry, but we're not to sin.  We're told, 'do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.'  She did wrong to you but you can overcome her wrong with your good."  And on and on the whispered encouragement went.

When we were through and all the tears were wiped away, I pointed to his schoolmate, who's face was still red and tear stained.  I told him how sad it was that she was still hurting, and let him know it was time to go and apologize.  He did.  And she forgave him.  A little while later her father walked her over to Brody to apologize for not being kind and to ask for his forgiveness as well.  It was as lovely an altercation and child training opportunity as one could hope for.  And yet this is my truth... we have had to walk through variations on this same theme more times than I care to admit.  Even as I whispered into his ear, with his soft corn-silk hair tickling my lips, my heart cried, "Will he ever learn this lesson?  What's wrong with him?  What's wrong with me?  Everything I'm saying is true, there is grace and forgiveness, he has been spanked and given time-outs... what more can I do?"

It was plain to see that Brody wasn't through this yet.  With all the school days that spread out before him on that playground, I decided to enlist some help.  Together we found his teacher.  After a few niceties I told her that Brody is still working on using his words when he gets upset, but sometimes he forgets and still uses his hands and his feet, especially when he feels like other's aren't including him and playing nice with him.  She listened thoughtfully and then got down on Brody's level, looked him in the eye and said, "I'm still working on some things too.  Brody, God's not finished with me yet either."

Brody's eyes were on the chunk of broken concrete he was cradling in his hands.  "I found this piece of moon rock in the sand," he said, "but it might be a fossil, or a bone."

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The next day as I sat in church our Pastor also reminded us that God isn't finished with us yet.  He joked that sometimes he sees a carport and thinks, "I guess that guy got halfway through building his garage and thought, 'that'll do it.'"   We all laughed.  I thought of my Brody and I thought of myself.  Everything inside of me wants to scream, "I must be failing!  What am I doing so terribly wrong that this child cannot learn to keep his hands and feet to himself, to use his words, and control his impulses!"  But I am choosing fresh to trust God again with my son.  He is not finished building character and authentic manhood into the life of my beloved son.  While God continues to build I will endure, press on, and persevere.  I will keep lovingly scooping him up and teaching him the truth, and I will continue to be quick to give him consequences that will reinforce his learning.  

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Today as we played on the cul de sac with neighborhood friends I (once again) dared turn away from my guy to have a conversation with another parent.  Within two minutes I heard a scream and knew who the offender had been.  "Really?"  I wanted to yell as I turned to see Brody running away from the child on the ground.  "REALLY?!?!?!?!?!"   There was no gentle coddling and instructing, as the teaching from two days ago was still fresh in both our minds.  He was up in his room immediately and stayed there until bedtime two hours later.  

As I tucked him in I finally asked Brody what had happened.  The tears came fast and his breathing was jagged and rough.  "He was being mean to me and he wouldn't let me get away."  

"He's a baby, Brody, not even two years old."

"I know, but that little boy surrounded me with his force of baby power!"

I tried not to laugh at his proclamation for fresh crocodile tears were falling on his chest, soaking his pajama top.  Brody has always had the largest tears.  And so I scooped him up again, speaking truth to him in a whisper, " 'do not be overcome by evil, but over come evil with good.'  Brody, if that little guy used his force on you that must have been very frustrating for you, but you must not hit, kick or push, you need to use your words... overcome his wrong with your good.  I know you can do it!  I know you can. O, sweet boy... God's not finished with you yet."

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GIVEAWAY update:  I'm giving away a copy of Sally Clarkson's book The Mission of Motherhood, this week.  If you haven't already left a comment on the last post, leave one here and you'll be entered to win a copy of my favorite book.  Next week I'll be giving away The 10 Best Decisions Every Parent Can Make by Pam Ferrel.  This book has been paramount in my mothering as I learn to parent Brody specifically... in all his uniqueness.  Pam tells story after story about her middle son, and all the creative ways she came up with to teach him how special he is, even during the most tumultuous of his growing up years