The Perils of Living
This morning I realized yet again the far reaching consequences of my somewhat unorthodox upbringing.
My brother got up out of bed and then proceeded to not listen to anyone about anything and decided that the best position he could be in would be a ball on the floor. This poses a problem for myself, my sister, and my grandmother since my grandmother usually has been taking him to day care. We're all usually on a schedule so there isn't always the luxury of waiting for him to decide he's ready to do something. Sometimes we just have to push him out the door and into the car. That's probably the least fun thing you can do with my brother. As I tried to coax him onto his feet he reached out to strike/scratch my hand. This provoked a response from me that I would describe as somewhere between anger and rage. I reprimanded him for trying to hit me and then we got him down the stairs. He tried to strike my face. And again later my arm.
As my grandmother drove away I am filled with emotions. Fear. Anger. Disappointment. I returned to my room, simmering in these feelings, punched the wall, and then sat on the floor. Why so angry? I spent a moment praying to God why I am the way I am, and why my brother is the way he is. The thought that came wasn't what I expected it to be.
Physical violence was pretty much the standard for me being raised - when I was resistant, non-compliant, or just didn't brush my teeth I would be thrashed. Simple as that. And in an extremely perverted understanding of justice I want my brother to understand:
"In my day, you don't try to hit your parents (older brothers). I was damaged because of that. I want you to know just how much of that you are avoiding because of the fact that we're in a different place."
It's impossible, of course, for my brother to understand my complex reactions to physical violence, his non compliance, and our mutual father. But I REALLY want him to understand. These are the days where humility, peace, and patience are garments that I need to put on. They're just so threadbare sometimes.
Ultimately, as I sat on the floor thinking for a few minutes, it dawned on my that my reactions to my brother are heavily rooted in my past with my father. I have to say that I frequently think: "I'm over my father. No big deal. It's all in the past." Except I seem to be in situations that make me relive the past and then I uncover the darker parts of my heart all over again.
I feel like Job,
"Then I would still have this consolation—
my joy in unrelenting pain—
that I had not denied the words of the Holy One.
"What strength do I have, that I should still hope?
What prospects, that I should be patient?"
Job 6:10,11
And like the psalmist,
"6 Man is a mere phantom as he goes to and fro:
He bustles about, but only in vain;
he heaps up wealth, not knowing who will get it.
7 "But now, Lord, what do I look for?
My hope is in you.
8 Save me from all my transgressions;
do not make me the scorn of fools."
Psalm 39:6-8
May the Lord be with all people who are fathers and may he guard me in the days that I become one.
-jr
My brother got up out of bed and then proceeded to not listen to anyone about anything and decided that the best position he could be in would be a ball on the floor. This poses a problem for myself, my sister, and my grandmother since my grandmother usually has been taking him to day care. We're all usually on a schedule so there isn't always the luxury of waiting for him to decide he's ready to do something. Sometimes we just have to push him out the door and into the car. That's probably the least fun thing you can do with my brother. As I tried to coax him onto his feet he reached out to strike/scratch my hand. This provoked a response from me that I would describe as somewhere between anger and rage. I reprimanded him for trying to hit me and then we got him down the stairs. He tried to strike my face. And again later my arm.
As my grandmother drove away I am filled with emotions. Fear. Anger. Disappointment. I returned to my room, simmering in these feelings, punched the wall, and then sat on the floor. Why so angry? I spent a moment praying to God why I am the way I am, and why my brother is the way he is. The thought that came wasn't what I expected it to be.
Physical violence was pretty much the standard for me being raised - when I was resistant, non-compliant, or just didn't brush my teeth I would be thrashed. Simple as that. And in an extremely perverted understanding of justice I want my brother to understand:
"In my day, you don't try to hit your parents (older brothers). I was damaged because of that. I want you to know just how much of that you are avoiding because of the fact that we're in a different place."
It's impossible, of course, for my brother to understand my complex reactions to physical violence, his non compliance, and our mutual father. But I REALLY want him to understand. These are the days where humility, peace, and patience are garments that I need to put on. They're just so threadbare sometimes.
Ultimately, as I sat on the floor thinking for a few minutes, it dawned on my that my reactions to my brother are heavily rooted in my past with my father. I have to say that I frequently think: "I'm over my father. No big deal. It's all in the past." Except I seem to be in situations that make me relive the past and then I uncover the darker parts of my heart all over again.
I feel like Job,
"Then I would still have this consolation—
my joy in unrelenting pain—
that I had not denied the words of the Holy One.
"What strength do I have, that I should still hope?
What prospects, that I should be patient?"
Job 6:10,11
And like the psalmist,
"6 Man is a mere phantom as he goes to and fro:
He bustles about, but only in vain;
he heaps up wealth, not knowing who will get it.
7 "But now, Lord, what do I look for?
My hope is in you.
8 Save me from all my transgressions;
do not make me the scorn of fools."
Psalm 39:6-8
May the Lord be with all people who are fathers and may he guard me in the days that I become one.
-jr
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