Anger, I am your boss

Dear Hildegaard

Photo by Jeff Kingma on Unsplash

Dear Hildegaard,

Until you’re old enough for a punching bag, we’re trying something else. I know how hard it is to be young and feel like you’re not in charge of any portion of your life. You are told what you can eat, where to sleep, that you need to wash your hands and brush your teeth and pick up your toys and stop yelling. It probably feels suffocating at times! Which is why I thought the idea of being the boss of something might appeal to you. 

It did.

You’re three years old next week, and you have grown so much in your ability to control your anger. We taught you how to take deep breaths, how to run or yell to get your anger out, and lately, I’ve been inviting you to talk to your anger. To call it out. To tell it who’s boss. 

Now, when I ask you to do something you don’t want to do, and I can see your hackles rising, I remind you: Talk to your anger. You like this approach. I watch you run into the other room and hear you yell:

Anger, I am your boss!

Sometimes, it’s not even about anger. It’s just a reminder that you can talk to yourself; that you’re in charge of you. Maybe you don’t want to stop throwing food, unraveling the toilet paper, or jumping like a crazy person from one couch to the other, but you have the ability to say no to yourself.

Baby, everything in society – at least right now – screams at us to say yes to every whim, every indulgence, and every fleeting desire. According to the world, the more you give yourself what you want in the moment you’re in, the more true you are to yourself. God tells us something different. He reveals that to be controlled by anything other than the Spirit is slavery. Obeying every whim – especially sinful ones – is the opposite of freedom. 

You can do this! I hear you say to yourself, as you wrestle down the desire to run away from picking up the blueberries you squished into the kitchen floor. It takes a few minutes, but soon I hear you tip-toe back into the kitchen to pick up your mess. And, of course, other times you lose the fight, like we all do.

As with everything in parenting, I am actually preaching to myself. You see this. As we walk down the stairs together, talking about anger, you say to me:

Sometimes anger is your boss, mom. And then sometimes it goes away.

My heart sinks. Have I been that obvious? I try so hard to hide it, but you see everything. You hear every sigh, and unfortunately - every word - that comes out of my mouth. 

That’s true, baby. I need to do a better job of telling my anger who’s boss.

You will be older when you read this. I’m not sure how much older, but I know this: you’re gonna need it. You’re gonna need the reminder that self-control is possible. Because I’m nearing forty years old and I need to be reminded. Things still feel so out of control sometimes, and I need to believe the truth that Jesus left the Holy Spirit here with us as a gift. He is our Friend. Our Convicter. Our Comforter. Our Empowerer against the heavy pull of sin.

You teach me every day. You are precious beyond words, and you know how much I love words. Thank you for being Hilde.