Don’t worry, this post isn’t about potty training. Or about gastro intestinal bugs. You don’t have to be a mom to relate to this post.
Because some days, I think, we all feel covered in ick.
There’s the slimy goopy ick of worry that I feel my feet squishing around in.
There’s the impossible-to-scrape-off ick of constantly being behind with the housework, the laundry, the dishes, my deadlines. There’s the rotten in your tummy ick of anxiety, of not being able to control the circumstances that surround you, of being unable to guarantee the future or anyone’s happy endings.
There’s the ick that makes it hard to breathe.
Some of the worst ick is what spatters on the walls, the floor, the toys and your kids’ faces when you let go of that last shred of your temper and yell. The angry-mommy ick is vile.
The any-kind-of-angry ick is awful.
It gets on everything. And it does not wash off easily.
Cleaning up that kind of ick requires salt water. You know the kind I mean.
Salt water and apologies.
And the dangerous thing about ick is that when you are tired of being covered in it, when you want to get rid of it, when you are mad at those who are ick-free there is the overwhelming temptation to fling some of your ick at someone else.
To pull it off, watch it stretch long and sticky, then whirl those gooey globs around and around and let fly at anyone who’s in range. It lands and explodes with:
Irritation and tempter tantrums to rival most two-year-olds.
Laundry lists of past annoyances.
The why-me whine.
And a litany of comparing, complaining, and dissatisfaction.
But the problem with indulging your ick like this? It always boomerangs back.
Messier than before.
And that kind of mess is one that even Oxiclean can’t handle. So, I am learning to play defense instead; the more I want to yell my ick, the more I work to shut it down.
Jesus has always been counter-intuitive. Stable, straw, donkeys and cows for a castle, bedding, court and first home. His advice is usually the opposite of my instincts.
A gentle answer turns away wrath,
but a harsh word stirs up anger. Proverbs 15:1
The only way I can figure to manage my ick is to ruthlessly contain it.
So, when I screw up all my will power
A gentle answer turns away wrath,
but a harsh word stirs up anger.
And follow it,
A gentle answer
I am astounded by the results
turns away wrath.
My ick slowly starts to dissolve like so many bubbles in a bath full of soap. Clean emerges.
And second chances.
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Well said! I’m working on controlling my own personal “ick of frustration” right now and as much as I want to scream sometimes, I do find that taking a deep breath, a calm silent prayer, feels so much better than screaming, but it’s not the natural reaction to me. I have to work on it every day. Don’t we all?
I couldn’t imagine what this intriguing title would have within the post, but how great – and I absolutely experience many moments of ick (I call it “going bananas” when I warn the kids that I have these negative feelings no matter what anyone says). And you are right (Jesus is right (clearly, lol) I have seen a gentle word change the mood in the room many times. As Nani says, it is an effort (why is it that good habits are so much harder to adopt than bad??) but it works. Still working here too… Peace ~Lori
I’ve been astounded by those results, too! Thinking of times when I wanted to choose frustration over gentleness with my husband. Makes an amazing difference. God is gooooooooooood!
Yes…the ick we sling…I wrote of having a velcro day…that day when everything sticks to weigh us down…Oh for my gentle answers in my life…
Blessings as we get unstuck….
http://tuningmyhearttopraise.blogspot.com/2011/11/avelcro-kind-of-day.html
velcro and ick days… so glad we have Christ working in us His good pleasure.
Coming free of the ick and the stick is so marvelously redeeming!
It was a huge reality check for me the day my almost 2-year-old said, “Mommy! No fits!!” There’s been a lot more silent-prayer-behind-gritted-teeth since then…
Lisa-Jo,
First of all, I can’t believe you have the time and energy to post so much. Every one of them is great.
Regarding worry – oh my. I worry about whether I’m checking my kids’ Facebook enough. I worry when I see a text to someone in which my sweet 15 yr old daughter uses a word she would never say around me. I worry when I see a note with a conversation in which she writes to a friend, “If you don’t kiss him, I’m gonna be pissed.” Oh my gosh! Am I doing enough? Most of the time you shouldn’t say anything. You have to pick your battles, just like when they’re two. If you get on to them about everything, they’ll shut you out. I AM doing one thing right – I AM kissing my son when he comes in at night to see if I can smell alcohol on his breath, but am I doing enough? (At 17, I haven’t smelled anything yet – thank God!) Am I doing enough to teach my 13- and 15 yr old girls details about dating and how boys will say ANYTHING? It’s so awkward, there’s not a right time. Am I doing enough to teach them about God? The worry doesn’t end. But as they get older, your mistakes matter more! Lord, all I can do is my best – and put them in Your loving hands.
The first Bible verse my stepson memorized was about being slow to anger. …Not because I had learned it, or taught it to him or lived it out. Oh, how I wanted to. I longed to be on the other side of the lesson. I never made it to the other side with him, but there were days when we both made big strides, and that is where my focus resides. On stay in your pjs on the couch and talk long and wrestle with giggle days, not on the ones so sharp with my hurt sending double edged death rays out into our small space. I own those days but they no longer have to own me. There is grace and healing in sharing these things, and I am thankful for the chance to be present with your words.
Love. thanks.
we had a foot of very dense snow last night…that feels actually like three feet of normal stuff when you try to move it! I had explained to my wonderful man that the closer to the fence he snow blows the less scooping I have to do all 6 months of our winter. So when I find him snow blowing even farther away than previous years I start to get that ick feeling you were talking about and into the wind I voiced words about him no one should ever hear. The ick spread so bad that I felt it gripping my heart and my whole being. It was ICKY!
This is when I realized the enemy was trying to get a foothold and I said whoa!
I laughed at how silly I must have looked blowing hot air into the wind as if it would melt all the snow. I said O Lord , how sorry I was, and how fine my man really is, and how this is a great opportunity to see God work another of his fine miracles… and the ick can’t stick when we laugh and give thanks instead, and then the heart just wells up free and nothing hurts anymore… not even the snow blowing….and the scooping
Eucharisteo… away with the ick!
loved your post Gypsy Mama!
Trying to sidestep the puddles of ick today.
Drowning in ick. And today my ick oozed on to children that I did not give birth to. Time to re-group for certain.
Such a creative post with the word ick. I could see it slime all over. And I just have to say that in their early years the ick comes to the surface much faster than when they are older. All that testing our mommy skills mixed with a heaping of sleep deprivation and more than a pinch of sheer exhaustion. You do have a way with words lovely lady!
The angry mom ick IS vile and I have slimed my family more times than I cared to think about. I am SO thankful for grace and that God allows me to see growth….and to know that one day I WILL be perfected!
What a perfect word picture. When I most want to be rid of my ick…is when I most tend to fling it at others!
Thanks for this oh-so-memorable reminder, to open my mouth with a gentle word, to turn away all that icky wrath.
Thank you for this!! I have been covered in ick for a few days too many!! Hope you and your family have a wonderful weekend!:)
Hi Lisa-Jo. Trying to find a way to communicate that I’m unable to post to your site. Was trying to leave it on 5-min Friday. Hmmm. Maybe you need to moderate it first? Sorry, promise not a stalker with OCD=)