Getting Out of the Way

So, today was a typical day in the Musteric house, except that Daddy has been out of town for four days, it's Monday, and there have been a few late nights lately. It is just after 1pm, now, but I've learned a big lesson already. I need to get out of my kids' way when it comes to their disagreements way more often.

Lately, the girls been having fun playing with a large branch that came down from our large maple tree during the crazy wind last week. They've used it to prop against a tree to make a fun teepee covered with a sheet and a blanket. It makes a pretty cool fort, I must say.

This is the same tree whose limbs they have also thrown ropes over about 12 feet up so they can belay up and down the tree. (Have I mentioned that we are pretty free-range around here?) So, the girls are happily playing in the fort with ideas of completing their schoolwork outside on this gorgeous fall day.

Enter the big brother, home from band at the high school, who is looking forward to swinging on the ropes from said tree. Do I need to elaborate?

It ended in a loud screaming match outside (in full view of folks in the church parking lot and with the windows to the preschool next door wide open, of course), and resulted in the branches of the teepee being snapped in half. Whoa, nellie. It was a big blowout. Big. I can't say when I've ever seen the kids so angry with each other, and that's saying something.

I sent the offending party to his bedroom to cool off and get some school work done away from the crying sisters. I did so without much anger, amazingly. (Thanks be to God.) They all had some cool down time, we got a bit of history done, and I went upstairs to talk to the boy. I kept it cool. (Again, thanks be to God.) I didn't say much, really, just talked about what happened and how unacceptable the behavior had been.

Then, I left.

I said nothing further to anyone about the incident while we went on with schoolwork with the girls. When we finished, I noticed that he was no longer in his room. He wasn't in the bathroom. He wasn't downstairs. I started to panic a bit. I wondered if he had left the house without telling me. You know how paranoid a worried mother gets...we always start thinking of the worst.

Then, I looked outside. There he was, building a bigger, better, stronger fort up against the offending tree. Not for himself, but to mend things with his sisters. Thanks be to God. There now seems to be a great forgiveness going on out there in which I'm not going to meddle. They really are growing up. Growing inside to become people who know when they've done something wrong and then think of a way to not only ask forgiveness, but to repair the breach. It's a beautiful thing.