I thought when I had a child of my own, when I knew experientially how difficult it is to discipline, to be consistent, to be loving and just in the same breath, that I would have more compassion on badly behaving parents. I recognize that my little one is only six months and the greatest challenges are yet ahead of us. I understand that he is just now beginning the exploration of his sin nature and there are many hands on hips, eyebrows furrowed, pursed lip moments to come. But I thought I would have empathy.
I do not have more compassion. I have less. I have been tired, exhausted, on the verge of a coma, and you still have to be a parent. I have been frustrated, tearing my hair out, wanting to scream grumpy, and you still have to be the bigger person. The phone is not going to raise your child. And it isn't going to save you from having that responsibility.
Ok, I'm climbing down off my soapbox. This is why I shouldn't start composing blogs in my head in the middle of Wal-Mart.
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