(Part 1) David and Mom's Meltdown at Church

Story time... (Part 1)

Last Sunday was a tough day—one of those moments that humbles you as a parent. It started off well enough. On the way to church, I reminded David about our agreement: he would stay seated with me during worship and preaching. Now that he's 11, we wanted him to transition from bringing toys or books to stay quiet, to actively participating in the service. He seemed to understand, and I was hopeful.

But as soon as we arrived at PPC, everything changed.

The church dog was there, and I had completely forgotten about that! David loves animals, but we always remind him not to touch them because of his allergies. Yet, in that moment, nothing else mattered to him. He started chasing the dog around, weaving through the congregation, completely immersed in the thrill of the moment. I called his name several times, but he ignored me. Then, he started grabbing napkins and rolling them into balls to shoot into paper cups from the refreshment table. It was becoming chaotic—distracting others, making a mess. I felt my patience slipping.

I called him one last time, took his hand, and led him downstairs. My plan was to bring him home and discipline him there, but things didn’t go as planned. Right there in the hallway, he resisted, pulling away, refusing to budge. He wanted to go back inside and talk to his dad. I was frustrated, feeling disrespected and ignored. I reached for my phone to book a Grab tuk-tuk, only to realize I had left the house keys. We had to wait for everyone to finish anyway.

Then the meltdown began.

David’s emotions escalated rapidly—he was crying, clenching his fists, repeating the same words over and over. He felt embarrassed and unloved. “You’re always nicer to others than to me,” he said. “I hate you for this.” His words stung, but I could see the pain behind them. At that moment, it wasn't just about disobedience anymore. He was overwhelmed, feeling cornered and misunderstood.

I, too, was on the verge of an outburst. The tension of the moment, the weight of being a pastor’s wife—knowing people were watching—made it even harder. Just when I felt like I was losing control, Vandy arrived. He walked up calmly, assessed the situation, and gently told me, “Calm down. Remember, he’s still learning how to manage his emotions.”

His words were a much-needed wake-up call. I took a deep breath. I had been so focused on enforcing the rules that I forgot to see things through David’s eyes.

The ride home was silent. I sulked in my own thoughts, replaying everything that had just happened. The guilt crept in as I realized how I mishandled the situation. Disobedience and disrespect are non-negotiable in our home, but had I truly disciplined him—or just punished him? Had I let my emotions take over instead of guiding him through his own?

After lunch, I went to our room to reflect. Meanwhile, David played Uno with his cousin and Dad, the tension slowly fading. Then, after about an hour, he knocked on my door. He walked in, eyes teary, and said, “Mom, I’m sorry for disrespecting you and disobeying at church today. Can you forgive me?”

I hugged him tightly. “Of course, I forgive you,” I whispered. “There’s nothing you could ever do to make me love you any less.”

His sincerity melted my heart. I also asked for his forgiveness—for losing my patience, for embarrassing him, for failing to show self-control. That moment of reconciliation was a reminder of God’s grace in our family. We forgive because we have been forgiven much.

Not long after, David excitedly asked if we could still make the graham ice cream bars we had planned. With a cheerful “yes,” we headed to the kitchen. Just like that, peace was restored.

Our Homemade Graham Ice Cream Bar

Later, Vandy sat beside me and smiled. “Thank God the peace in this home is back,” he said. Then, he gently reminded me: “David is different from other kids. He’s still navigating his emotions. If our emotions are high, his will be even higher. Moments like these are opportunities to guide him, not just discipline him.”

His words stayed with me. Parenting a child with autism requires more than enforcing rules—it demands patience, understanding, and self-control. It requires me to lean on God, to model the very grace I expect from my son.

**Tune in for Part 2 (my Reflecitions..) 😅👍👉

By His Grace,

The Hourngs in Cambodia