By Guest blogger Ami-lee Parton
It was one of those days where everything was going wrong and my tantrum-throwing 4-year-old was the icing on the cake.
It was the end of the day, time for bed, but she just wasn’t having it. Usually, I can keep my cool. My husband and I aren’t yellers and we try to teach our daughter to work through her emotions instead of screaming and throwing tantrums – easier said than done. But this night she was in fine form and when her hours of relentless whinging turned to flat out yelling and defiance, something in me snapped and for the first time in her little life, I yelled at her. And I mean yelled. As soon it happened her little face crumpled into tears and so did mine. I instantly regretted my actions, but it felt like a dam had broken inside of me and just couldn’t hold it in anymore. Luckily my husband was home and swept our little girl into his arms to comfort her while I locked myself in our bedroom to get myself together. All I wanted was to be alone for a while, to have some quiet time to myself, but I knew that I needed to go back out there and comfort my daughter. I said a silent prayer, dried my eyes and headed back to the living room. I hugged her and told her that I loved her and that I was sorry, but it didn’t stop the awful feeling that I had inside of me.
That night I went to bed and hard as I tried I couldn’t sleep. My thoughts kept going back to how I yelled at my child and all of the other frustrations and worries that I had going on in my life. A tiny spark in my brain told me that I needed to get on my knees and pray, but it was late, I was exhausted and to be honest, it was the last thing I felt like doing. But the thought wouldn’t go away and after a few more minutes of trying to suppress it, I found myself on my knees. My prayer started off slow, I was so frazzled that I could barely gather my thoughts, but the next thing I knew I was pouring my heart out to God, confiding in Him about my worries and anxiety – about feeling like I was failing as a mother and that I needed help, how I was concerned about the dry spell that my business was going through, about my worries about my health. I’m not sure how long I prayed for, but it was awhile.
The next day I woke up and to be completely honest I still felt miserable and the last thing I felt like was getting out of bed. But I did and started to get my family ready for the day. As I stood in the kitchen making breakfast, my daughter walked in, ran over to me and hugged my knees and said: “Good morning my mama!” Her little face was full of laughter and I was relieved to see that my outburst from last night hadn’t permanently damaged her for life. Her bubbly mood was infectious and the next thing I knew we were having a little dance party in the kitchen in our pj’s. It was then that I realised how grateful I was that I had gotten on my knees and poured my heart out to my Heavenly Father. Luke 18:1 says “Pray and never give up.” – there are times where it almost feels hard to pray, like something is holding us back, but the calm I felt that morning was all the proof I needed to reconfirm my knowledge that God knows me by name and that He knows what I need in my life.