Two rough mornings two days in a row.
Hitting. Scratching. Pushing. Throwing things. That was how Ronan communicated his frustration both yesterday and today. I felt the brunt of that frustration. No matter what happens in those types of situations, which are thankfully infrequent, Ronan will only get the best of me. No anger toward him. No retaliation on my part. No grudge afterward despite his behavior and the marks he left behind.
After the storm, and when we're both ready to move on, I sometimes start to "write" in my head. I imagine myself sitting at the computer and typing. I start my next post, my next blog, my next article. In the piece, I work out my frustration. I spill my thoughts, my fears, and my emotions. I then make a plan of what to do differently next time if ever their is a next time. It usually helps.
Doing that sort of "writing" today didn't work.
Even though I had picked out a good title (Best of Me), even though I had the post half-way "written" in my head, even though I had already felt a peace and calm, even though we were hours from that unfortunate outburst, my emotions got the best of me.
I started to cry.
I had been listing to the radio and had some classical music playing but instantly switched the radio to a random station. Hoping for some upbeat music that would help shake the sad thoughts away, this song came on.
The Emotions, singing The Best of My Love.
Thank you, God, for just the right song at just the right time. And thank you, Ronan, for not feeding into my emotions at that time. The rest of his afternoon was good, and his evening was awesome. I'm praying that he carries that awesome into tomorrow - we could both use a really, awesome day.
As hard as it is to be calm and helpful and loving in the horribly intense moments, Ronan needs me to be strong. He needs me to be faithful. He needs me to be loving, and kind, and full of hope. He needs the best of me. That's what he'll get...always.