As soon as I think I've got this parenting thing under my belt, the Lord slaps some good and needed humility in my face. And that's when I experience the preverbal "reality check."
Because the reality is, I have no idea what I'm actually doing (Take comfort, children. Your dad has some idea. And if not he, we have some good friends who have successfully raised their children; they have a few extra bedrooms available). The reality is that I need an abundance of Grace in attempting this thing we call "raising children," and I need it every single day. And sometimes the hardest reality for me to swallow: I am not in control.
I'm confronted with these parental realities somewhat regularly. Take, for example, the conversation I had with my younger daughter a few weeks ago about sitting in church: "Lily, why don't you write down a few things that you hear dad preach about during the sermon today, and then we can talk about you learned. It's so important to listen and learn from God's Word."
"OK, mom."
It was one of those parenting moments where I slapped my hands together, patted my back, and thought, "There we go. Important, spiritual lesson learned." Well done, mom.
And then this was handed to me after the service:
I was eating my cheeseburger. I could taste the cheese chicken and bread. It was time for class. Bob tripped me and I pushed Bob. The teacher sent me to the principal. I tried to tell him I was right and Bob was wrong.
Yep. Reality check - cheeseburgers and Bob instead of grace and forgiveness.
And then there was the "encouragement" from my youngest when I asked her how mom and dad are doing as parents: "Well, so, um, Dad's good because He tells us and people about God and loves them. And mom, you're good because you show us good TV shows and stuff to eat."
Oh, good. I'm so glad to hear that Dad's got the spiritual stuff covered so that mom can focus on the important things....like T.V. and food. And so there's a nice dose of reality. Just in case I secretly pictured myself like this:
This might be a little more realistic....
Good. Grief.
And then, of course, there's all the wonderful and complicated and crazy aspects of raising a teenager. Just yesterday I reprimanded my oldest for not talking more to me. "Just tell me something! Anything! Words more than 'Yes,' 'No,' and 'Maybe!" I actually threatened to print out a list of vocabulary words that might help in our deliberations.
And then, through her tears: "Mom! Sometimes I just don't know what words to say."
I stared at her for a moment and was immediately confronted with an important realization: my daughter is different than me. Duh, I know. And yet because words have always come so easily for me (which is not always a good thing), I can't understand not having them to spew out to the person in front of me. Each and every parent teacher conference was like a broken record: Katie tends to speak out of turn.
I spoke out of turn, in turn, and around every turn. Coincidentally, my middle is my penance for this flaw. I sat across from my son's teacher at conferences this fall and she said, "Jrod tends to speak out of turn." Yup. Penance.
But that's not my oldest. She's quiet, she's introspective, and she's not me. Her words will be fewer, and sometimes they come out in a picture or drawing, and those words are usually something pretty profound. The reality is that she is a beautiful child of God that I will spend a life time learning about, and I will probably verbally process my way through it.
We asked our kids recently where they thought they would be in ten years. Here were their answers:
My oldest will be 23: I'll have graduated from NYU with a degree in performing arts. I'll be living in the middle of the city and I have no earthly idea if I'll be married.
My son will be 21: I'll be running cross country for Covenant College (and will, of course, be one of the best runners), and I will be majoring in history. I'll be looking for a job as a cop, though I may move to Italy in order to run (I'm pretty sure it would be fun to run in Italy). I'll also be married to a tan, athletic girl who is a christian and who is NOT a girlie-girl. At all.
My youngest will be 17: I'll be driving all my friends around to get hot chocolate. And I'll be going to Covenant College and my boyfriend will be Ian because we're the same. We both like to annoy people a little bit and he's quiet so it's OK I talk a lot."
(I may have more than one child who's excessive words are a part of my penance).
As I sat listening to their ten year predictions, I realized with everything in me that there will be so much joy in their future. But there will also be much sorrow, profound happiness, and a lot of hurt. I wish I could pave a path of ease and predictability. I wish I could make it so that my girl's biggest concern in life will be where to find the best hot chocolate. But I can't.
And frankly, I shouldn't want to. The greatest growth in my own life happened when I was confronted with situations that made me uncomfortable, the Lord drew me closer to himself through pain and brokenness, and my eyes were opened in profound ways while serving people in other countries, taking me out of the only comfort I had ever known as a teenager. As difficult as I'm sure it was for my own parents, I'm eternally grateful to them for allowing me to experience, fall, trudge, and hurt.
I visited my grandparents last week at their retirement home in Quarryville, PA. It was a sweet couple of days with them, in spite of the difficult journey that God has called them to walk these last several weeks and months. I had a few moments with just my grandfather and as he talked, I kept thinking how he exuded faith and trust in God.
He's led a wonderful life, but it certainly hasn't been without difficulty. And in the moments we spoke, he mentioned the frustration of not being able to walk on his own due to a heart condition, and he grieved his daughter, my mother, who lives hundreds of miles away in a similar care center because of a debilitating disease, but he also talked about how he prays for us daily, how he relishes in the opportunity to bring all his family before the throne of God. He has been, and continues to be, a man who continually points me to Jesus, who seeks the Truth, and who trusts His Savior in all circumstances. This has always been His highest calling.
And he reminded me of that calling. My parenting reality becomes blurred when I lose perspective on my calling both as a mom and as a believer in Jesus.
Scotty Smith wrote this beautiful prayer, reflecting on our responsibility to steward our children:
Since our children and grandchildren are your inheritance, God, help us to parent as humble stewards, not as anxious owners—whether they are infants or adults. Show us how to parent, and grandparent, in ways that best reveal the unsearchable riches of Christ.
I'm not called to parent perfectly - there's no such thing. The perfect mom, dad, or grandparent does not exist....no matter what social media portrays through pretentious pictures and phrases. I'm not called to live for my children, as tempting as that can be, nor should I be chained to fear over what may or may not happen to them. I am called to live for the glory of God with my whole heart and seek to parent in light of this, my highest calling...
...and a very welcomed reality check.
