I once sat with a friend whose child’s needs are so severe, it’s almost impossible for my friend to feel connected to them. Or to feel like they’re offering their child much of value.
Grief, alienation, and anger creased my friend’s features.
I once sat with a friend whose child’s needs are so severe, it’s almost impossible for my friend to feel connected to them. Or to feel like they’re offering their child much of value.
Grief, alienation, and anger creased my friend’s features.
Can I tell you something embarrassing? …I’ve been working up to this.
When I was a super-young mom, I was thinking about writing a novel. (I have a different one on my hard drive that will likely never see the light of day.)
I confess delaying on this post a bit because I never know how to talk about stuff like this. Like, ever.
But yes, this past month, I was on the podcast/radio broadcast of Focus on the Family to talk about my book with Harvest House, Permanent Markers: Spiritual Life Skills to Write on Your Kids’ Hearts.
Despite my severe imposter’s syndrome, it was a cool life experience, guys. (If you like this kind of stuff, you might like this post from my FamilyLife Today interviews.)
Ever wonder if you’re doing too much for your kids?
Personality-wise, this is my reality. I am a helper, an empath to a point that it arcs others’ eyebrows.
Author’s note: One of my perennially best-traveled posts remains Christian, Married, and Attracted Elsewhere. It’s not unusual to be attracted to or feel connection with someone else.
But as followers of Jesus–how do we handle it? Is it kosher to be married and have a best friend of the opposite sex who’s not your spouse?
A friend asked me a good question in a roundabout way. Let’s say my child is in one of those seasons when they’re hard to love.
…Or even being a jerk.
One of my (many, many) weirdnesses in parenting my teens has been the fact that every. Single. One of mine is opinionated and fairly strong in personality.
This is weird for me because I was totally the opposite. I was an I-excel-in-being-a-doormat-and-pleasing-the-world teenager.
Question. What’s the one thing you wish about your family that feels like it would make everything better? That finally, your parenting could really sing?
What’s your “if only”?
Reading Time: 3 minutes
She gave me a gift that day.
Years ago, my friend and I sat on my back porch in Uganda–no doubt with tea or coffee in hand. I was preparing for our first home assignment, and the forecasted meltdowns of at least one jetlagged child in a crowded plane where everyone would be able to sleep if it weren’t for your kid.
Our youngest would have been three, and 20 hours of flying or so makes full-fledged adults want to throw their own fits sometimes.
My friend’s wise words to me that day: “People expect kids to mess up. It’s how the parents handle it that makes the difference.”
I think of God’s words that it’s his kindness that leads us to repentance (Romans 2:4). If my kid did the limp-body thing in the middle of the aisle, bawling when everyone’s hoping to get off the plane, I can scoop him up and whisper in his ear: I know you’re so tired. We’re almost there.
If he hits a sibling in his exhaustion, I can calmly discipline with a consequence, rather than blowing my own top.
(We discipline differently for rebellion than for childishness, no?)
Their inevitable childishness or outright sin is going to happen, despite my perfectionism, control, or vigilance. But what I do with those invitations to love my kids like Jesus?
That’s my (Holy-Spirit-fueled) choice.
Maybe these don’t feel like a huge “aha” to you. But this jewel folded in my hands has offered me comfort–when, say, the principal called to say my son was caught jumping off the urinals in the school bathroom, trying to touch the air freshener.
Or having teens, when I’m discouraged by choices they make.
But that idea doesn’t just extend me comfort. There’s wisdom in expecting our kids to be childish–or even to be sinners. I mean, God actually prophesied that his kids would screw up.
It prevents me from being as crestfallen when I discover my child spit cherry pits on the floor.
Yet, to quote my mom, I’ve learned to always expect your kids are smarter than you think they are. And I’m not just talking about them understanding a great deal about adult dynamics and conversations in a home. See, they’ll also be crafty at seeking out ways to sin.
I mean, we’ve all been in those conversations where you or a sibling reveal to your own parents what you were actually getting away with in high school.
Don’t get me wrong. Yes: Have lofty hopes and goals for your kids. Don’t water them down or dumb them down.
I believe in the “aim small, miss small” philosophy: If we aim for holiness and perfection in our kids, the consequences of them making decisions off that mark are hopefully far less.
And yet, it’s healthy to totally anticipate they’ll mess up, as sinners like ourselves tend to do. (If we don’t, in our shock that our little angels would do such a thing, we might be prone to shame-parenting.)
So my thoughts are these, when my kid acts like a kid:
So when your kid acts like a kid this week? Don’t miss your chance to show them Jesus.
Bouncing Back: Helping Your Child Open the Gift of Failure
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