I have been the child who yelled out the injustices of my upbringing to a closed-door—half hoping my parents heard what I really had to say, and half mortified that they might actually hear what I had to say.
The tables have turned.
I am now the parent on the other side of that door with a ranting child, loudly sharing opinions on fairness and right-parenting, proclaiming small-person authority to make the world right, at least in their own mind.
Thus, this post.
A week or so ago, one of my children was found in the midst of some natural consequences spawned by poor choices. This was evident to all, including my child. Knowing that this “suffering” was the result of personal decisions was not enough to prevent the rant. My child went to their room, closed the door, and loudly began to whine about the many years of injustice, “like that time that dad…” and “It’s just not fair that…”
Remember that mingled feeling of mortification and glee that your actual thoughts might be heard? They’d been heard.
I opened the door.
“Really? You’re in this situation because of ‘the time that Dad…’? Oh no. If you want to throw a fit, throw a fit that sounds like this: ‘AH Man! Why didn’t I listen to Mom this morning when she warned me about the choices I was making?! BLAST! Why did I rush through that chore and leave it a mess? I wouldn’t be here right now if I’d only…’ THAT’S the fit you should be throwing!”
Silence.
Mortification.
Glee?
I closed the door and stood outside silently.
This child began again. Softly. Not taking my advice on the responsibility-claiming fit that I’d suggested. I wanted to run in there, throw my own fit, and force this mind to grasp the concept! Take responsibility, learn from your mistakes, and MOVE ON! Don’t find ways to blame it on everyone else! But alas, I knew my approach would not help.
Then it struck me.
Gratitude.
I learned a year or so ago that your brain can not possibly be anxious and grateful at the same time. Those two emotions occur on opposite sides of our brain and fight each other for the oxygen they need to function. This is also true for worry and worship. Can’t do them at the same time. Essentially, when you choose to be grateful, you join the tug-of-war in your brain in a battle-winning kind of way. You help drag the oxygen away from the worrying part of your brain and being grateful becomes easier. Oh, believe me, the first seconds are a serious challenge- but the more oxygen that arrives, the easier gratitude will be.
All of this information came rushing back to me as I thought of my child- a child stuck in the ugly part of the brain. The only way I could effectively help this one get un-stuck would be to get ’em thinking gratefully.
I walked back in.
“Okay… you haven’t taken my advice on the kind of fit you should throw, right?” Shakes head. “Then I have a new assignment for you. I want you to write a list of fifty reasons that you are grateful for your dad. Let me know when you are done.”
Door closed.
No more ranting. No more raving. A heart changed. Gifts listed that my child is able to claim and name. Suddenly memories of a childhood not exclusively unjust (according to them) but fun trips, special outings, gifts, moments in time worth recapturing. And my child truly is grateful. SO grateful, that the paper is turned over and words are written that I wanted to hear from the beginning.
Gratitude.
It changes hearts. It changes minds. It changes lives.
Are there areas in your life that seem entirely bleak? Or other areas that cause in you the kind of worry and anxiety that lead to health or emotional disruptions?
Choose thankfulness.
And get your kids to choose thankfulness too!
*For a great book on how gratitude can change your life, read Ann Voskamp’s “1000 Gifts.”
