Parenting My eyes lock with His, the scowl on his Small face takes my heartbeat, My blood pressure, So high I can feel it Throbbing in my ears. I want To scream and shout, and As I open my mouth, I feel the same scowl Plastered on his face, Stretched taut across Mine. Him reflecting me. I see his eyes hard, Like mine. His lips pursed, Like mine. His hands clenched, Like mine. Like mine. Like me. All that makes me angry in Him, I see first in me. It's everywhere in me I want to scream, Claw at my chest and tear, Rip my own self out Of my parenting, I wonder If I could be a perfect Parent, would he be A perfect child? I want to cry, scream, Wail again, but not in Frustration. This time I want to scream from Sadness, despair, hopelessness. I can never be who I am asking my child To be. What can I do? What. Can. I. Do? My breathing tears, burns Sharp and painful inside. But truth rises in me Like a trumpet, Like a song sung to Summon hope. I cannot make him perfect, partly Because I cannot be perfect. But I can teach him Humility. Asking forgiveness. Self awareness. Admitting Failure and getting up to Try again. I can teach him Dependence On God. And hope For change and growth beyond His own capacity. I can Teach him all this because I can live all this. I can live humility and Forgiveness and dependence. Grace and honesty and Self-awareness and hope in Someone greater than myself. I can teach him, what I can Live myself. And I am not Able to live perfection, but I can live grace and hope and Humility and surrender. So My eyes lock his Softening to meet his iron Gaze, and I relax. Apologize. No but. It's just there, the offer, The apology for Him to accept or not. A going first. He can make his Choice. I have made mine, and I pray he will follow.

• Alesha Sinks