“Where in the world. . .” I frantically searched the cupboards, the dishwasher, the kitchen counters. Where in the world were my pots? Behind schedule as usual, I just needed a pot to steam the veggies for a quick dinner before heading the family out the door. I didn’t have time for this!
“Kids!” I call up the stairs, “Where are my pots?” No answer. I improvise, get everyone to the table, and we make our engagement barely on time.
Later, as I head up the stairs to tuck my youngest in bed, I hear a rhythmic beat. Sure enough, she’s sitting in the middle of her bed using the chop sticks she brought home from a rare treat at a Chinese restaurant to beat the entire collection of Mama’s pots. Turns out she’s got quite a rhythm. I had to laugh. I enjoyed front row seat to the hottest new drummer in our neck of the woods.
It could have been so different. If I had found the pots in my moment of frustration, how would I have reacted? Would I have scolded in frustration—angry that she put me behind schedule by taking the pots? Would I have taken the time to sit and listen or only grab and grumble?
Had I scolded, what would I have taught her?
As she gathered the pots, I imagine she already had visions of the beautiful music she would create. I can practically see the plan forming in her head. “Hey, these would make great drumsticks. What can I use? . . .Mom’s pots!” How long did it take for her to carry them up the stairs? How did it feel as she created a beat in her head then pounded it on the pots discovering the ting, the echo, the music inside her?
What if I had entered the room at that moment? “What are you doing with my pots?! I don’t have time for this! Get these back to the kitchen right now!” I can hear my words and the tone. Would she have ever dared explore again?
Thankfully, God kept me from discovering the pots until I was in a frame of mind to hear well. To encourage and receive. To affirm her blossoming spirit and creative juices. We did have a conversation on how I would appreciate her asking the next time she needed to borrow the pots, but oh how different that conversation sounded than the one I imagine might have taken place in the midst of frustration.
God commands us to always be gentle, kind, self-controlled. Thank you, God, for controlling timing so that I was able to keep your command and enjoy the symphony of my daughter’s heart.
Tess Worrell writes and speaks to groups regarding issues of family life. She and husband, Mike Worrell, live in Madison, Indiana where they are in their 14th year of home schooling. She would love to hear your insights--comment here or email her at tess@YourFamilyMatterstous.com. If you are interested in bringing Tess to your home school or church group, learn more about her speaking at YourFamilyMatterstous.com.
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