Last week I was reminiscing about the fireflies in June and promised to recount one of my favorite firefly memories. It was eight summers ago, putting our girls at 12 and 5 years old...
Last week I was reminiscing about the fireflies in June and promised to recount one of my favorite firefly memories. It was eight summers ago, putting our girls at 12 and 5 years old. After a difficult day at work, I brought home my frustration and poor temper. Instead of finding solace, I found what most young parents find in the evening – chaos. The kids were not getting in the shower like I told them nor in bed when they needed to be. My wife was on the computer, and nothing was getting done.
My angst flipped a switch in my brain, and I transformed into General Patton. Within minutes, one daughter was grounded, another was being threatened with extermination in this life and the next. My wife quickly decided that Patton needed some R&R. She approached me privately in our bathroom (which is the way good spouses approach these kinds of situations), holding my arms and telling me that I needed to let go and let her handle it. I shook off her hands because frankly I felt like she should have already been handling it, and that she was part of the problem. Oddly enough, I did not take the opportunity to look in the bathroom mirror and recognize that perhaps that guy was part of the problem, too.
What followed was a tense silence as we moved about cleaning up the mess downstairs while the kids hit the showers. With that task completed, I had to get out of the house. I stormed outside, plopped on the front porch steps, and began anticipating God’s rebuke and heavenly hammer due to the loss of my temper. For many minutes, I sat in the dark listening to the croaking of the tree frogs. I sought comfort from the glow of fireflies but did not see any – perhaps in hiding due to my childhood treatment of them.
As I sat there, my heart grew harder. I hoped beyond hope that my wife would just leave me out here alone, that she would not try to come out and have one of those “Let’s talk about this” moments. About then, I heard the door open behind me. I stiffened. Great. Here comes round two, I thought.
I didn’t hear the footsteps, they were so silent. I sat there with my head hanging low, my eyes closed for fear that I would have to make eye contact with the woman I really wanted to avoid right now. At that moment, a small, gentle hand slipped under my arm. A precious, freshly washed and wet head came to rest on my shoulder, and I felt the warmth of my youngest daughter’s breath on my cheek. We just sat in silence for a moment. I had hardened at the thought of having to talk with my wife, but God had sent a little one instead. He knew exactly what was needed to soothe my spirit.
After a moment, she said, “Dad? Remember when you and me and sister and mommy sat out here eating ice cream?”
I smiled at the memory. My eyes began to moisten, and I replied with a choked whisper that I did. “I wish we could do that again. And I want us to do it while the fireflies are out,” she said.
“Do you see any fireflies, baby?” I asked. “I don’t see any tonight.”
“Yeah, they’re over there” she said and pointed my head in a different direction. She cast my nets to the other side of the boat. The moment I looked, I saw an explosion of fireflies that had not been there ten minutes before. We just sat and held each other for a few minutes, with me soaking in the moment and not wanting to let her go. Something caught my daughter’s eye from within the house, however. She said in the sweetest, most sincere little voice, “I think mommy is looking for me. I better go.” I didn’t want her to go, but knew that it was her bed time. I let her little, pink satin nightie slip through my fingers as she kissed me and went back inside.
I continued to sit out there in the dark, but my heart was changed. I began to pray for forgiveness for my temper. I thanked God for my family and for ministering to me the way that He did. I confessed that I had not been very loving and sought His help in loving others the way that He loved me.
I prayed for my girls. I prayed that God would undo the damage I had done and protect them from all the mistakes that I made as a father. I asked Him to soften my wife’s heart as He had mine so that I could go and reconcile myself to her. It would be a tough conversation, as I was sure that her emotions were frayed, just as mine had been.
At that moment, I heard the door open again. This time the footsteps were distinct. My wife came and sat beside me. She tenderly put her arm around me, pulled me close to her, and said, “Can I do anything for you?”
“You just did” were the only words I could speak.
Looking for fireflies has never been the same.
Read other articles from Chris Goldston on his blog at http://thelidodeck.wordpress.com/
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