Heart Change

These past few days have been a battle with Elijah. He wrecked his room, and rather than stay up late and have him clean it, we just left it until the next day. However, he spent the next day making an even bigger mess. Then a bigger one the next day. So when I came home on Thursday, it was a disaster. Earlier on he simply begged for help, and we told him (the more recent strategy) to clean up a few sets of toys ("Put your Veggietales in the box, your tools in the toolbox, and stack up your books") and then we would offer to help. He would start, but then soon get distracted. We even told him if he cleaned his room up, he could have his next Veggietales CD. But all this to no avail. The room continued to be a wreck. And if it were just for that, I might have just taken some toys, because he obviously had too many to keep his room clean. But his defiant attitude swelled, and he flat out refused to obey.

Perhaps I'm a little vindictive, but I want to make sure he feels the consequences. So I went right for the jugular: I took his CD player. And then the true battle began.

Through tearful yells he begged to be able to clean up his room for himself, and professed continual empty apologies of, "I'm sorry, Daddy," (Which he always says when he knows he's getting in trouble). However, the greater the tantrum, the more I took. I cleared out about half his toys as he fought me every step of the way. And not just verbally, he kept trying to grab stuff out of my hand and throw things at me. Of course I would just take the toy, and then he would beg and plead for me to not take that object (whether it be figure, playset, umbrella, or chair... yes, chair). I guess it was all a desperate attempt to get me to stop. I know he was just lashing out in pure helpless frustration, but his behavior stepped way over the line. I just couldn't get him to calm down. Near the end of this first pickup, I told him to just go and eat dinner. He left, then came back in to throw a wood placemat at me.

We finally ate dinner, and we got him ready for bed early. He fell asleep as I was reading the Bible and praying (needless to say there were no bedtime stories), but he kept waking up (five or six times) throughout the night whining and crying about the loss of his toys.

The next day while I was at work, Stephanie informed me of his continual trouble. He proceeded to pull out most of the rest of his toys all over his floor. He pulled out more of his clothes, cleared out his desk drawers of papers onto the floor, got out his bunk bed ladder (which we put away because Aubrey keeps climbing it), and climbed up into his closet again and pulled down some of the toys I had taken the night before. He had also gotten into the kitchen cabinets, stripped our bed of its sheets, and climbed up our shelves in our closet to get his Penguin humidifier. He then filled the tank and placed it on its base without the plug. Needless to stay Stephanie had to soak up a lot of water off the floor.

When I got home, we calmly encouraged him to clean his room again. He refused, so we placed him in his room and commanded that he clean up. So after further defiance and his continual refusal to even begin the process, justice was enacted again. I cleared out most of the rest of his toys and he repeated the tantrum/demonic behavior that we experienced the night before. I had to continually push him away and dodge projectiles so I could even gather his toys together. Needless to say he also received several spankings... but still his anger did not abate.

At one point, I had him twisted around on his bed, trying to get him pinned enough to spank him. His head and torso started to slide off the edge and he started pleading with me, "Daddy, I can't fly. Daddy, I can't fly. I'm not a bird." It was all I could do not to just bust out laughing. I know there was a giant grin on my face as I found the whole scene quite humorous, and quite ridiculous. How God must feel at our reactions to His discipline.

The incredible ending to this story came after leaving him in his room for a while, and him still not really calming down, but choosing to lay down in front of his door and kick it repeatedly. Spanking did not discourage this or his other outbursts of anger towards being confined to his room (among other things). So I calmly went into his room and picked him up. His immediate response was the usual panic, "What are you going to do, Daddy?" I didn't say a word but just sat down in the floor, placed him in front of me and wrapped my arms gently around him. Then I leaned into him and prayed over him. Immediately his whole countenance changed, and once I finished he responded, "I'm happy now, Daddy." Not sure if it was happiness, but he complied to play quietly in his room by himself (with the few toys he had left) while I fixed dinner. And from that point on, he was calm and obedient the rest of the night... and all the next day.

This was a reminder that I am helpless to change the behavior of my child. I might be able to encourage him to respond a certain way, or help him to learn that he can manipulate certain situations in his favor. But true heart change can only come from God. May I never forget God's power over my children, and the importance and necessity of prayer.