A few weeks ago, Spaz and a younger friend of his were asked (coerced, he says!) to participate in a mime drama on Palm Sunday.  The mime was based on Ray Boltz’ song “Watch the Lamb,”  and Spaz & his friend would portray the two boys going to Jerusalem with their father.  Spaz was a bit upset about it at first.  He definitely has a talent for drama, but doesn’t like to use it.  (Or at least he says he doesn’t; methinks there is a big part of him that really enjoys it, and his reluctance comes from  self-consciousness.)  Feeling he had no choice, he agreed to do it, but later at home had a bit of a meltdown.

“It’s not fair!” he cried.  “Just because I’m kind of good at that, people keep asking me to do stuff!”   Now, “keep asking” is quite an exaggeration.  A major part in a little Kids’ Club skit (cast by his own mom), a speaking part in the Christmas musical, and a few extra lines in the homeschool drama production hardly constitute an overload of acting roles.  But aside from that, well, yeah.  If you’re good at something, people want you to do more of it; that’s how life works.  Not to mention that his mom prays for him to have opportunities to develop & learn to enjoy his talents.

Huz & I explained to him what the song was about.  We told him that it was a deeply moving and powerful song and that people would be focusing on the story that it told.  The actors would be there to enhance that story and draw people into it.  Nobody was going to be thinking about Spaz or anyone else; hopefully they would be thinking about Jesus.  The actors would merely be vessels to that end.  Spaz accepted this thoughtfully and began to make peace with the whole idea of doing it.

We also reminded him that his “father” in the drama was being played by a cool young guy whom Spaz knows and loves.  That helped.  By the time the first practice rolled around, he seemed to have reconciled himself to his role.  As we waited for the rest of the participants to gather, he seemed to be quite calm, nonchalant, and in good spirits.

…That is, until I dropped the bomb that I too was going to participate.  Cheez had been interested, but was sick the day of that first practice and so decided not to.  I’ve long wanted to try doing mime, and since they appeared to need a few more people, I volunteered at the last minute –and was happily accepted- to play a very minor role.  I mentioned this to Spaz just as the last stragglers were coming into the practice room.  I was not prepared at all for his reaction.  He. Had. A. Fit.  “I’m eleven!” he erupted.  “Can’t I do something without my mom?  Now I’m not going to do it!”  And away he stomped to a corner.

Obviously, that kind of behavior is not acceptable, but it is something we unfortunately deal with on a regular and increasingly frequent basis with Spaz.  (And it is one of the main reasons we are beginning to take a more pro-active stance to his ADH issues.)  Only this time we were not at home attempting to do math.  This little tantrum was taking place at church in front of a roomful of people who were gathering to practice a very spiritual and Christ-focused drama.  I was more than a little ticked.

Any semblance of Christ-likeness in me flew right out the window.  Trying to appear calmer than I felt, I stalked over to where he was pouting beneath a Sunday school table and in a quietly menacing voice stated, “I have the power to make your life miserable, and that is exactly what I am going to do if you don’t straighten up and change your attitude right now!”

Uh, yeah.  Can anybody say, “Not a smart move, Mom”?  I should have known better; I did know better.  I was too angry with him to realize at the moment that I had just thrown down the gauntlet in a stubborn battle of wills.

“I’m not going to do it!” he shot back in an angry whisper.  “Get your butt and the rest of you over there NOW!”  I retorted.  “Practice is starting!  We don’t have time for this!”  “I’m not doing it!”  he said again.  “I didn’t want to do it in the first place and now I’m not going to!”  I tried to reason with him.  “You can’t back out.  They have no one else.  You made a commitment, and they’re counting on you.”  “Then why did you have to go and ruin it?” he cried.  “I don’t want to do it with you!  It’s your fault that I’m not doing it!”

Reason wasn’t working.  Once Spaz’ meltdown mode starts escalating, it becomes increasingly difficult for him to pull out of it.  I was acutely aware that everyone in the room was waiting for us, even as they made every effort to not notice us.  Everything I said drew the same response from him.  I was feeling more desperate and more livid by the second.   The rest of the group took their positions and the CD began, without us.  Who could blame them?

I pulled out my big guns.  “Alright, you’ve already lost XBox for the rest of the month; if you don’t want to start working on April, you’d better cooperate.”  And so it went.  My threats fell on deaf ears.  With everything I said, his heels just dug in further.  And all of a sudden I came to my senses.  This was futile.  Furthermore, even if threats could change his mind, they wouldn’t change his heart.  Did I really want loss of Xbox time, or any other form of correction, to be his motivation?

Sometimes being a good parent (or spouse or friend) means backing off.  It means realizing that we have come to the end of what we can do, and that the end of what we can do is only the beginning of what God can do.  And that we need to get out of His way so He can do it.  I quietly left Spaz, walked over to the group, and segued into my position.  Praying, praying, praying.  Spaz has a very tender heart.  I knew that if he sat there long enough, the words of the song might very well penetrate his heart and be enough to pull him out of his mode.  “Please, Lord,” I prayed silently, over and over again, “Soften his heart.  Bring peace to his heart.”

The father and the younger son went through their motions without him.  I stood stiffly next to my fellow soldier, praying.  Pivoted on my heel, praying.  I took the imaginary cross from the first thief, praying.  Planted it in the ground and nailed his hands, praying.  And always watching Spaz out of the corner of my eye.  He was watching now, too.

The second thief made his angry motions.  Was nailed to his imaginary cross.  Jesus started down the road, staggering under the weight of his invisible cross.  And Spaz emerged slowly from his corner.  Jesus continued to stumble, and fell to the ground.  Spaz tiptoed toward the door and turned the knob.

“Did you decide not to do it, Spaz?” asked the director quietly.  Spaz nodded as the song continued to play and the actors continued to mime.  “That’s OK,” she said, probably figuring that she’d rather cut her losses than deal with this sort of brattiness.  She really doesn’t know Spaz and was probably wondering at this point why he’d ever been recruited.  But it wasn’t OK, and I said so.  I didn’t want to make a scene, but I was not about to let Spaz go.  I motioned him back.  “You need to stay in the room and watch,” I insisted quietly, still in my position.  The mime went on around us as though nothing else were happening.  To my relief, Spaz slid into a chair and crossed his arms and watched.  And I continued to pray.

The father watched Jesus, agonized.  The soldier grabbed his arm.  He grabbed for his son and was torn away.  His other “son”, the prodigal, still sat in a chair, watching.  The father took Jesus’ cross and carried it.  Stood helplessly watching as Jesus was crucified.  Clutched his son to him and knelt before the cross.  Still Spaz sat and still I prayed.  The song ended.

We all returned to our starting places and the CD began again.  Father and son began again on the road to Jerusalem.  And before long, the father felt another hand slip into his.  Hand in hand the father and his two sons made their eventful journey through the song.  And the shortest soldier never broke from her stern stance, but inside, she was smiling.  And still praying, but this time, prayers of thanks.

After practice was done, the father said that he had almost cried.  The oldest son –MY son-- said that he had, too.  I told you he has a tender heart.  The youngest son reminded them that crying during the real performance would smear their makeup.

Spaz and I had a nice talk on the way home, and we never had anymore trouble about it.  We did the mime yesterday and it went wonderfully.  Spaz and his “brother” played their parts very well and were very touching.  People were blessed, and not just the ones who were watching.

And that was whole point of doing it— blessing others.  But as a side benefit, it was a learning and growing experience for me, and I think for Spaz as well.  Doing the mime was another step toward embracing his talents and learning to serve the Lord with them.  But beyond that, I hope that he learned something even more powerful from that first practice session, the one that started out as a mother’s nightmare and ended as a mother’s dream, with a child repentant and cut to the core.  I hope that he learned something about himself and something about the Lord.

I know I did.  I was reminded, as I have been so many times before, that while my responsibility is to train and pray for my children, my job description does not include being their personal Holy Spirit.  I couldn’t be that if I wanted to.  And thank goodness, I don’t have to be.

Afterword:  My daughter videotaped from her seat, and despite an abundance of heads partially blocking the view, the video is very powerful.  I have watched it 5 or 6 times since yesterday afternoon.  It is enough to motivate me actually learn how to put video on my computer, except that I can’t find the cord.  I do have nearly 60 awesome photos taken by a friend who is the unofficial church photographer;  we downloaded them to my flashdrive after church, and I spent several hours yesterday cropping and arranging on my own computer.  I’d love to put together a power point with the pics and give it to church, but I don’t know how to put music with the pictures and I probably shouldn’t take the time anyway.  However, I will post some here soon, probably as a slide show.