A few years ago, I was angry and slammed a door. The window in the door was not sealed properly, so the slamming of the door caused the window to shatter explosively. Thank God my husband wasn't in the room!
I cried as I cleaned the glass shards from the floor and shelves. What a failure the evening was! How thankful I was for sparing me from hurting anyone! How I hate and abhor my temper!
I asked God to remind me that things shatter when I lose my temper. He does. But I jus lost my temper again and I broke something.
Son J1 is fighting naps, for whatever reason. I set him down for a nap and up he popped, and chattered and talked and yelled for attention--and I got mad.
I stormed into his room, told him sternly that he was to lie down and go to sleep--and as I walked in I saw his face go from 'happy to see you, Mama!' to 'Im being bad, but how?' in the space of a heartbeat.
Instead of breaking a window, I hurt my own son. Sigh. Perhaps he was being rebellious and needed a little heartbreak to teach him that disobedience is painful--but I don't know.
I do know that 'man's anger does not produce the righteousness that God desires' and that no good comes from my temper tantrums.
And he's still not sleeping. I could just cry with frustration and vexation.