Did I Pass The Test?

We once had a Pony of America, otherwise known as a POA. 

Her name was Goody-Two-Shoes. 

Whatever was anybody thinking when they named her?  

Don't ask me, she came with the name,

and she did not try much to live up to it.

She had to have been the stubbornest mule  pony in the whole county. 

I should have known the day I rode her home from the people who sold her to us.

She scared the living daylights out of me

and I was all of three feet off the ground.

The girls learned a lot by her. 

How I remember those lessons in patience.

And all those little girl tears....

For all their frustration, the kids did derive some pleasure out of her.

Perhaps the horse felt a little abused??

Why is it I keep thinking of her ??
 

We have been at it for 5 hours.

From the moment we sat down to do his phonics and reading he decided to try me.

At first the battle was at every letter. It took a half an hour to write the first three words.

At first my heart raced. I got sweaty. a little panicky. and frustrated.

But it was clear

none of that was going to help me

or 

him.

I started asking him if I passed the test yet.

He'd throw a question designed to make me give him the answer,

or write the letter backwards deliberately,

or the wrong letter,

-like as wrong as you can get-

or feign forgetfulness,

And

I would just smile,

throw the question back at him,

give him the look that said,

don't move on until you make that right.

Then I ignored him (and prayed like crazy) until he started to cave...

then I'd ask him,

"So, did I pass the test?"

It started to get funny and we actually made some progress.

BUT the starting and stopping eats up a ton of time.

I was suppose to be at the English Language School tonight.

Vanessa had to go in my stead.

This stubborn stuff is getting far too frequent.

Always he says,

I DON'T WANT TO OBEY.

or

I DON'T WANT TO DO MY SCHOOL.

He's all done except one square. 

He deliberately did it wrong.

Probably to have the last word.

I am waiting.

And I have been for an hour. 

There's no pressure. He just can't go until he corrects the "mistake".

It's all of two little lines he has to make connecting a picture to a phrase.

Strange, eh?

He's standing there crying and fussing and holding on to stubborn.

I have brought him to the point of surrender and giving his heart,

praying

over and over

but the moment he is faced with correcting his ways 

it all comes flooding back.

And I think, WHY, child? WHY?

Today was town day. Missy had fits of whining and crying and even screaming in the car

for. no. reason.

I could not even go into stores or do anything.

At one point I asked her to play on the piano teacher's lawn -

She fussed and cried and whined and carried on.

I offered her a stack of new library books -

She screwed her face and fussed.

I told her to get in the car and buckle up -

She screamed.

Finally,

I took a library book and went and sat on the lawn and read it to myself

while she had her fit in her car seat.
There were several hours of that this morning.
To be very honest the irony of calling her by her name
hits me smack between the eyes.... Joy? What joy?
It's reminiscent of the days when the girls sat atop a horse
with tears streaming down their faces, slapping their legs against her side
saying, "GO Goody, go Goody, just go!!"

I like concrete answers to changing mad to glad

and grumpy to happy.

There are none.

I just hold the fort and pray that some day

they will learn.

I have to immerse myself in reading about Christ or I fall apart or grow impatient.

I am not nice when I am impatient.

I am horrified at my own heart.

I need the strength that only Christ can give me

and I need to abide,

I need to remember this:

Jesus bears with the erring through all their perversity. 

His love does not grow cold; His efforts to win them do not cease. 

With outstretched arms He waits to welcome again and again 

the erring, the rebellious, and even the apostate. 

His heart is touched with the helplessness of the little child subject to rough usage. 

The cry of human suffering never reaches His ear in vain. 

Though all are precious in His sight, the rough, sullen, stubborn dispositions 

draw most heavily upon His sympathy and love; 

for He traces from cause to effect. 

The one who is most easily tempted, 

and is most inclined to err, 

is the special object of His solicitude.

PS. The morning started off with a bang. Missy has been having a tantrum since 6:30 this morning. There is no sign of a let up.