"There will always be the older white woman in Walmart who stared at us with sheer disgust, or the African-American mother who looked at us and just shook her head.”
I stared at her and she held out her arms for me. Me. The scary monster. She wanted me. The same person who frightened her, she was seeking comfort from.
I recently found myself feeling offense. Red, hot anger, that I felt was justified, righteous, even. But what I couldn’t understand was, if it was righteous and justified by God, then why did I feel so bad?
When I seek to punish or control my kids with harsh words just because they aren’t behaving exactly the way I want, I need to call my response what it is. It’s not a bad day. It’s not a mom fail. It’s not a joke. It’s sin.
