Before I had kids, I made a vow to myself: “I will never yell at my children!”

Though I’d grown up in a loving home, neither of my parents knew what to do with their rising frustration over their kids’ annoying, irritating, down right obnoxious ways. So sometimes they yelled; my dad only rarely when we’d pushed him past his boiling point— my mom a lot.

And the yelling worked to straighten us up— anger is an incredibly effective way of controlling people. What they didn’t realize back then was the damage being done to our souls when they erupted.

When my mom gave her life to Jesus during my teenage years, she humbled herself beautifully to apologize to me. She even went so far as to explain that she had unresolved issues from her father’s angry outbursts, and that it wasn’t my fault.

So the first time I raised my voice at my kids, they were startled, but I was appalled! “How could I do this to these children I loved with such protective ferociousness?”

I repented of my angry outburst, then, following my mom’s example, I went immediately to each of my children, “Honey, I am so sorry I yelled at you. That was wrong of me. Will you please forgive me?”

And I added the one truth I wanted my kids to know right down to the marrow of their bones:

My anger is not your fault.

I broke that vow to myself too many times to count in the course of raising our four kids. I violated the verse we were all memorizing during their early years:

And every time I felt sick with shame: “I don’t believe that anger is a God-honoring way to discipline my children, what’s wrong with me?!”

Is there any parent alive who doesn’t know that shame? Unfortunately, we tend to fail the people we love the most. Repeatedly.

One day, while we were living in Santa Cruz, I was up early reading my Bible, asking for His power to overcome what seemed like constant irritation. My Bible was open to Ephesians 4 and I used the Word to pour out my sorrow to the Father:

I cried out to my Father, “I’ve grieved Your Spirit, show me a way out of this sin that so easily entangles me!” (Hebrews 12:1)

Right then, right in the midst of my discouragement— my failure to be the mother I so longed to be— my eyes fell on the last verse of the chapter:

I heard a wealth of wisdom in that sentence, about forgiving my mom for her angry words, about forgiving my kids for being annoying, and about accepting and living in God’s forgiveness of me. But what stood out clear as a neon sign was that first phrase:

Be kind to one another.

Kindness, I knew, didn’t mean simply being nice. Phil had recently preached a sermon on I Corinthians 13:4-8, and in his studies come upon the biblical definition of kindness.

Kindness means doing something useful for another.

When I was angry towards my kids, I was hurting them— obviously. An apology was a good first step. But here was something proactive I could do-- 

I could choose kindness.

What did I want them to know? What feelings did I want to make true in their souls? What truth could I communicate to lessen the sting of my irritation?

That morning, before the kids were even out of bed, the Spirit gave me the words that I would say hundreds and hundreds of times to them:

Soon, this became our family’s lyrics to each other. I love you. I appreciate you. I enjoy you. Every day, several times a day, these words began to change the music of our hearts towards each other.

Annoyance turned into genuine value. Irritation gave way to appreciation. The truest truth etched itself into my heart: “I enjoy my children! I do!”

And somehow in the saying of these words over and over again, those moments of angry outbursts became less. Less angry and less frequent.

In purposing to put off anger and then choosing to put on kindness, my feelings towards my kids changed: I liked them more! And they liked me more— I liked me more too! In fact, I think they even began to like each other more.

So if all the togetherness of Spring Break is bringing a lot of irritation and frustration to the surface, maybe try serving up our little piece of kindness.

Here’s how it works:

Sit down beside your child, touch him or her gently and repeat these words:

Then let that truth sink deep into your child’s soul.

From the brokenness of my own heart,

Diane