Reading Time: 2 minutes

So I got a call from the principal. I confess to even wishing her (rather brightly) a Happy Friday.

She responded pretty kindly, considering my son was there in the office with her. (It was only 8:40. What could happen before 8:40?)

So the details are a little sketchy. But the not-so-sketchy part: My nine-year-old was definitely in a a “substantial scuffle” (her words) over a kid not taking turns. Y’know, the student council member, chess club participant, after-school choirboy (literally), ex-missionary kid?

…Yeah. That’s the one. We used to joke he’d either be president someday, or leading all the other felons in prison.

None of my kids ever went to the office. But then again, I was homeschooling in Africa for a big part of that time, so I was the principal. I have joined the ranks of mortified mothers.

But then again, I’ve been a member for awhile. In case you have an idea that missionary kids are generally perfect kids, don’t worry: Mine are 100% far-from-perfect.

And this is after I did (this very morning) what I told you I do: Tell my kids as they’re walking out the door to listen to the Holy Spirit, to love on other kids, to make a difference.

(At least that last one happened. Maybe I should have said what kind of difference?)

I write this to you because on some days of parenthood, we feel like we’re brightening our little corner, conquering just a little bit of darkness.

And on other days? Our candle gets blown out. Or someone sits on our helmet. And maybe we’re bleeding, limping a little.

I’m guest posting on my friend Kristen Welch’s site again today, WeAreThatFamily.com. From one idealistic-slash-disillusioned mother to another, I hope you’ll hop over and check out these thoughts for the hard days you’re wondering if your kids are conquerors…or being conquered.

Wherever you’re at, I hope it encourages you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Like this post? You might like