Holding our Children's Hearts

Since placing a Bible under my sons' pillows at night won't result in an instant download of understanding God's unwavering love, grace, and truth, I've had to learn to be creative in how I teach, instruct, and how I nurture the souls of my boys.   Ultimately their hearts and souls will burn with flames of their own choosing, but as a mom, I can sure place some quality kindling while I have the opportunity.

And really, our children's hearts are the most precious possessions that any parent holds knowing this possession is short lived as our children grow, mature, and make choices of their own.  We don't possess their hearts for long, especially if we don't love and tend their hearts well.  We have the power to break hearts, mend hearts, grow hearts, and shape hearts.  We must fight for hearts.

Addressing the Heart of the Behaviors

Recently, my son was given an outdoor chore but he didn't feel like obeying.  He heard the exact instructions but chose to pout and grumble on the patio by the barbecue, shielding himself from the wind.  He didn't like the wind that day, forgetting he had played in outside in the wind the day before.

After giving him several warnings, I called him out of hiding and carefully weighed my options.  I could wage war on his actions and ground him for life, come unglued, or immaturely bully him into performance, throwing down the 'parenting card' as an excuse for lashing out in frustration.  After all, I'm the parent, right?  I'm the boss!  The truth about negative emotions is that they always beget more negative emotions.  I honestly don't have the energy for that...

I needed to be smarter about this.  Logic would appeal to his intellect but more importantly, practicing self-control would demonstrate godly character and be an exercise for us both in conflict resolution.  And isn't that what is more important anyway?  As parents we desire to send children into the world as adults who know how to resolve conflict, recognize truth, and practice self control.

photo: pixabay

It was time to simply address the truth. 

It was time to address the sin that was causing turmoil. 

Sin is basically defined as missing the mark.  There's a bulls eye and it's missed.  The instant we choose self, engage our negative behaviors, disregard others, or allow our pride to take over is the moment we cripple ourselves and become less that who we are meant to be.  We want to put sin on a scale and say that some are worse but the deal is this; if you miss the mark, you miss the mark.  Sin is sin.  And we all do it.  

As a parent, my tenancy has been to address the side effects of sin -impatience, rudeness, unkindness, demanding tones, condescending words, etc, yet addressing the root of the problem is vital.  If you can address the root issue, the symptoms begin to wither.

As parents, we have to help our kids weed the gardens of their hearts.  We can simply pluck the leaves off the weed and allow the root to remain and thus grow stronger or we can identify and dig out the sinful issues of the heart before they bloom, replant themselves, and take over in an ugly crop of pride and entitlement.  

Sin doesn't like exposure.  It likes to stay hidden behind blaming, denial, and anger because once it's exposed, a choice has to be made.  A choice to continue in hurtfulness or a choice to change course which requires humility, seeking forgiveness, and moving towards restoration.  This is a daunting task for anyone.

photo: pixabay

Me. "Baby, your actions communicate rebelliousness towards me and pride in your heart.  This is sin.  This is what is causing you to be angry, defensive, and disrespectful.  Your heart is choosing sin but it doesn't have to.  You can choose to ask forgiveness, ask God to change your heart, then choose to act differently.  Should you continue to sin, your consequences will be..."

They Don't Know What They Don't Know....

We're all in process, which means that everyone you know and everyone I know is in process.  Neither you nor I know anyone who has it all figured out.

I have to keep this in mind as I'm discussing parenting with new parents, marriage with newlyweds, and healthy choices with the emotionally derailed.  I assume a lot when I think they already have the answers, thus I'm hesitant to address issues, even when asked.  Shocking, I know.

But in my attempt to avoid addressing the obvious, I miss the obvious - they simply aren't aware of the obvious because they haven't learned the obvious.  And because I don't address the obvious, I fail to teach well.

The easy but overlooked solution (one that I'm currently working through in my heart) is to ask more questions to find out what people really know, understand, what solutions they've tried, what personality, strengths, and style they bring to the table.  And because I don't ask questions and because I don't want to make them feel dumb, I don't say anything.

And that's super helpful.  I've just inspired, challenged, and invested in....  well, no one really.

Better yet, this same "don't share policy" (the one that is fruitless) is what I have to fight against in my parenting, which is strange, as I see myself as an extremely wordy over-sharer with passionate convictions.  (It's okay to agree- I can't see your facial expressions anyway.)

WHY do I do this?!?

For whatever reason, as our kids become teenagers, I've observed two knee-jerk reactions, 1) we become controlling and accusational which shuts off the relationship or, 2) we invest less personally and expect our teens to figure it out (which is what I'm addressing here today).

As they practice adulthood, they need us the most!   Maybe we're mentally thrown off when they get tall and their voices change.  They like little grown ups yet they simply lack the maturity and experiences that we have.

And yet I have struggled with sharing my personal life lessons and experiences.  Maybe I'm still learning from my past.  Maybe I fear talking too much and being tuned out.  Maybe I disdain my own vulnerability.  Maybe I don't ask the right questions to open the doors to deeper conversations.  Maybe I'm less approachable than I think I am.  Maybe I'm still exhausted from parenting my boys as toddlers.  I'm pretty sure potty training and cheerios took a toll on my sanity.

 I know many parents who hesitate to speak into their teens life because of the mistakes they themselves made.  So what?  Don't we all make mistakes?  The reason we survived our stupidity is to save others from theirs.  Right?

"Despite the wise counselling against sticking a fork in my eye, 

I did it anyway.  Now I wear an eye patch so I really am not 

the person to counsel others against sticking forks in their eyes."  

Whaaa....?

Now if you walked around with a fork and continued damaging your body, I would say that hypocrisy could be an issue.  As well as stupidity.  But that's a different blog.

Grieving Growing Up

This past week marked my oldest son's first week of high school and I'm swimming in grief.  I'm grieving that the past three years of middle school went too fast.  I'm grieving that my homeschool moments with him are over.

Running midday errands.  

Lunch dates and Costco samples.  

Discussing life and sharing jokes in the car.

Learning new things together.

We had all the time in the world.  Or so it seemed at the time.  

I'm grieving not having his random hugs or jokes throughout the day.  He placed fingerprints of random laughter and joking on the intense to-do's of my daily schedule.  I'm grieving the "Hey mom...?" that was normally followed by a request to make cookies or watch a Netflix documentary which counted as 'school'.

I'm grieving time gone yet well spent.  

I'm grieving the fact that I'm not more mature.  If I had a bad day when the boys were little, I'd console myself with the reality that they were too young to remember.  Now my 'off days' or bad moods are felt by the boys as the thunderstorms they are.  So perhaps I'm grieving that I haven't arrived at the stage of perfect parenting yet.  Not that I ever will but I kinda hoped I would.  For my boys' sake.  I'm delighted with the relationships I have with them yet hoped they would receive more from me than they have.  I just haven't had enough time to grow up completely yet.  I'm working on it though.  Actually, God's still working on me and he'll never give up!  Thank goodness for that!

Most expectations parents place on themselves are as deceiving as baby skunks - cute, fluffy, and unintimidating yet rank when examined up close.

"Blessed is he who expects nothing for he shall never be disappointed." - Alexander Pope

While this quote is true in most instances, there are many expectations we don't realize as such.  They simply exist.  They are the ideals we strive for with larger purposes and goals in mind for our families.  So we hold fast to routines, address needs, and steward our resources.

Savings accounts.

Regular family dinners and game nights.

Holiday traditions.

Date nights.

Freezer meals.

Weeding.

Exercise.

Growing old friends.  Making new ones.

Tune ups.

Braces.

Sports camps.

College.

Life truly lived is pregnant with expectation.  Eager anticipation.  Hopefulness. Discontentedness with mediocrity.

And with that, I look forward to this next chapter of life recognizing that I don't have the luxury of dancing through memory-making moments.  I have to steal them, own them, growth them, and guard them from life's seemingly important busyness- a parent's fiercest competitor.

And at the same time, this chapter will also teach me how to slowly let go - provide more opportunities for responsibility and freedom, encourage bravery in new ventures, display a godly life more with my actions and less with my lectures.   And I'm excited to see the outcome.  I'm excited to see how he steps up to the plate.  I'm excited to see the fruit of our parental investments into his character, decision-making, truth speaking, and gracious loving of others.  I'm excited to see how the power of the gospel will continue to change his life just as it continuously changes mine.

So forward we march...




More interesting resources:
5 Ways We Experience the Gospel in Community - by The Resurgence
Gospel Presentation - Like You've Never Seen It Before - by Matt Chandler  (2 minute YouTube video)
The Power of The Gospel - Sermon by Tim Keller

Fine Young Men

Recently, Riece and I spent several hours helping some friends move.  I busied myself with loading furniture into the moving truck, packing boxes and cleaning.  Riece busied himself with entertaining our friends' small children, guiding them through helpful tasks.  He gently directed, redirected, and encouraged.

Riece and I would both giggle at our our friend's young son, Isaiah as he would lavishly compliment each of us ladies who had shown up to help.  Whenever I carried a box past Isaiah, he'd say, "Ms. Mel, you are so pretty!"   By the afternoon, the compliment shifted, ever so slightly, to "Ms. Mel, someday you will be so pretty!" sending Riece and I into fits of laughter.  Apparently sweat and I don't get along. 

During our brief pizza break, two friends commented about how deep Riece's voice became in just a couple weeks.  There was no cracking, wavering, squeaking, or squawking.   It was with a sigh that I agreed, having noticed that morning that he was needing to shave again. And he was suddenly eye-level with me.  He went from little boy to young man overnight, it seems.

Practicing Messy

Messes are uncomfortable for me.  At least my messes are.  I don't mind other people's messes unless it's in my house and those other people happen to be my children.  If I'm in someone else's house, I consider messes normal.  It makes the other people more human.  Relatable.  It's odd and unfair that we expect things of ourselves that we'd never expect of others.

As an A-Type adult, there is a sense of pride in a job well done, a day governed by productivity, setting goals then meeting them, exhausting oneself for achievement while driving yourself and everyone else crazy in the process.  It's fantastic!  Until you realize how truly shallow it is.

Our accomplishments aren't shallow.  But feeling good about our accomplishments by comparing ourselves to others is shallow.    And we all do this constantly.  Especially those of us who are performance-driven.  When others acquire or accomplish more, we feel inadequate and insecure.  If they acquire or accomplish less, we feel self-righteous and superior.  We base our value on comparing ourselves to other flawed and broken people, revealing our own flaws and breaks.

And then we'll turn and lecture our children on trying their best.  "It's not about how your siblings or friends do - it's about how you do.  How you try.  The effort you put forth.  Giving your best over and over again.  I want to see you try your best because I believe in you as a person!  You can do a great job, not just because you are trying to beat someone else but because I believe in you!  God made you amazing - fearfully and wonderfully!  Stop comparing yourself - it's immature!"  If only we lectured ourselves a bit more.

We had a neighbor who was constantly out washing or waxing his boat or cars.  Always.  Without fail.  There was never a  speck of dust on any of his vehicles.  We wondered at the wasted water, soap, and time.  His wife must have felt so neglected at the time and attention spent on his toys.  Or relieved that he wasn't obsessing over her flaws...  Speaking of specks, I noticed a discomfort in my eye...

Maybe I'm getting too tired to fight the endless battles of perfectionism or maybe I'm finally growing up but in the past couple years I've decided to practice messy a bit more.  I'm still Type A so the messes are controlled, but I allow them to happen as life is being lived out.  Popcorn on the rug during family movie night, cooking messes that leave flour and sugar sprinkled the floor and inevitably on the bottom of my feet, or game pieces strewn about during a board game marathon on a rainy afternoon are all signs that a house is lived in.  That life is taking place.  That fun was had.  You better believe that the messes don't stay there for long, but they are permitted for the moment.

Chasing Evan

I hate running.  Really I do.  I have 50 million excuses to not run.  It's too cold (65 degrees), too hot (75 degrees), too windy (there's a strong breeze), I'm too tired (I'm a terrible sleeper anyway), the sidewalk is too hard, etc.   

But I love the satisfaction of a good cardio workout.  I also love knowing that I did something healthy regardless of how I felt.  It's good for me.  I'd rather lift weights or throw myself into a class at the gym - something less mentally challenging-  than running alone with my angry muscles.  

But I run anyway.  Once in a while.  A necessary evil.

This morning I opted to go for a power walk and as I was tying my shoes, Evan, my 11 year old began running around the house frantically searching for his running shorts and shoes so he could come with me.