Archives For November 30, 1999

the wisdom of my lady

November 22, 2013 — Leave a comment

when looking for wisdom and insight into parenting, does one really need to look further than the dowager countess of grantham? granted she is character in the fictional world of “downton abbey”. i think, however, this might actually work in her favor. when normal people, you know people who know and love you and who actually exist, give you advice, one doesn’t tend to value it nearly as much as one ought. but dress a woman in period costume, give her a upper class british accent and plunk her down in the midst of manor house glamor and suddenly we are hanging on her every word.

on the topic of parenthood, violet crawley of “downton abbey” delivers some zingers. a personal favorite of late is this one: “one forgets about parenthood. the on and on-ness of it.” a rather obvious fact, that parenthood is an ongoing, years in the making process but in the midst of it, i can forget the forest for the trees. there is always so much in the immediate that demands my attention that i can forget to see the years of parenting i have before me.

in the diaper changing, breastfeeding, sleep-deprived haze of the past, the years ahead seemed remote, a glimmer in the distant future. a place where everyone could tie their own shoes and wipe their own behinds seemed as likely as flying cars and people living on the moon. but now here i am, living in the glimmering independence of self-shoe tying and behind wiping and i see how far this road really goes. life long commitments are like that.either you die soon after making them, hardly ideal, or they last a really long time.

long ago, i accepted that there was no arrival point in marriage, no place to which you “arrived” as a couple, no place where it there were no longer struggles or where compromise was no longer required. there was no happily ever after. there was happiness but it wasn’t a natural bi-product of being married. it required a lot of self-sacrifice and hard-work.

i  have finally realized the same is true of parenthood. i knew about the work and sacrifice part but i associated much of that with the physical demands of younger children. now that my kids are older, i see us moving into a new phase, one that requires a great deal of work but of a different nature. it’s relational work. figuring out what makes each one of them tick, how to make them feel love, how best to communicate constructive criticism without dashing little egos. taking time to teach them the things they need to know and throwing a little bonding time in the midst of life lessons. it’s helping little hands make dough instead of doing it myself or watching action adventure movies instead of romantic comedies. cheering from the sidelines and chauffeuring from here to there and back again.

i think i was waiting for the place where parenting started to get easy, where it was natural and effortless. but as her ladyship says it doesn’t get easier. it goes on and on. and that’s a good thing. we get the amazing privilege of investing in our children for decades. we get to watch them grow and to connect in ways that aren’t possible when they are young. it’s a bit scary as the stakes seem so much higher. their mistakes are no longer solved with a magic eraser and a timeout. but it’s thrilling at the same time. to quote my lady one last time “it’s so encouraging to see the future unfurl. as long as you remember it will bear no resemblance to the past.”

…as i was saying

number five: there are no monsters under your bed. as a parent, i find monster fears challenging on two levels. first of all, i feel sad and helpless, watching my youngster, who is obviously terrified, attempt to go upstairs on her own. nothing i say or do can convince her that i would never knowingly place her in harm’s way. secondly, though, i feel frustrated. “don’t you trust me? don’t you think i know what i am talking about?” how often do i stand before God, lip quivering, accusatory glare blazing? what monsters do i imagine He has placed in my path when in reality i have nothing to fear?

number four: try to keep things in perspective. my favorite part of getting older is the gift of perspective. the little things seem, well, littler. my kids can be having “the best day ever” and five minutes later, all the good is forgot and the day is “ruined.” i may be older and wiser but not too much so. i have to constantly remind myself to look beyond the immediate and see the pattern of provision and salvation God has woven into His plan for my life. He is weaving for me “the best life ever” if i will just trust Him.

number three: be grateful for what you have. i am amazed at the endlessly unsatisfiable nature of my children. no sooner have i loaded the dishwasher from lunch and they are already asking what is for dinner. if we go to the movies, now we need popcorn and drinks and don’t forget the ice cream on the way home. i wish i were any better with my Heavenly Father but so often He has no sooner answered one prayer then i have the next request ready and waiting. if only i could learn to be content with what He has given already.

number two: two wrongs don’t make a right. do i really need to give an example? the vicious cycle of retribution among children speaks for itself. the hatfield and macoy feud must have been started by kids. and yet, within myself is a capacity for grudge holding and self-justification that makes them look like UN peacekeepers. if only i would trust God as the ultimate Judge and remember with great humility how it is that i will be found innocent before His throne.

number one: Jesus loves me this I know. the foundational truth through which all other truths flow. i should be a disney princess, frolicking through the forest while small animals trail behind me as i sing of my Savior. He hasn’t delivered me from a dragon or evil stepmother. He has delivered me from the gates of Hell. and more besides, because He has delivered me from myself. from the dragon and evil in my own heart.

this mother’s day may we all humbly praise God for the blessings He has granted. let us remember Jesus weeping over jerusalem, longing to gather His people under His wing like a mother hen. Lord, may i be found under Your protection always.

mother day’s often leaves me reflecting on all the ways i am failing as the assigned maternal figure in my kids lives, praying desperate prayers for God to fill in my incredibly large gaps. not to mention begging that He give them limited memories of their childhood which focus on the times i let them eat on the couch or cuddled them affectionately after a particularly nasty encounter with the driveway pavement. i don’t know if it makes it better or worse when the kids hand over their precious homemade gifts and cards. should i  weep with joy at the thought that i might not be doing as badly as i think i am or weep with sorrow that they don’t know any better.

this past weekend, i was asked to speak at a mother’s day brunch. free food, a bunch of like-minded moms and i manage to avoid saturday morning chores? i am in. of course, i wanted to give the ladies something to justify sharing their breakfast casserole and pastries with me so i decided to go with a top ten list. top ten truths i tell my kids. top ten truths i ought to be telling myself too. so here is the first half of my list with the second half soon to follow. hopefully they will help next time i decide to kick myself when i am down and hopefully they will help you as well.

number ten: just do your best. when the crayon refuses to stay within the lines or the math problem will not yield to logic, i try to remind my kids to take a breath and push on. they may not make the best picture or ace algebra but sometimes “good enough” is good enough. and when i feel like the universe will explode if i don’t make dinner on time or always answer with my patient voice, i need to remember to just do my best. God loves the universe (not to mention my kids and me) enough to not place the fate of all mankind in my hands.

number nine: be content in the now and don’t wish away the stage you are in. “when i grow up…” is an often uttered phrase in our household and one that i wish i could erase forever. i want to shake them and say “life is a blink. you will only have this year, this day, this moment once. savor it.” i want to shake them and then go back to thinking “when i grow up…” here and now, i have a purpose. it is all i am promised and i wish i savored more of the now. oh well, maybe when i grow up.

number eight: life isn’t about you. each day, at the same time, i get a sick feeling in my stomach. no, it isn’t because i ate too many oreos (my oreo eating time varies from day to day). it is chore time. i call out in the cheerfullest of voices “chore time!” and then brace for impact. the response is usually something like “noooooooo!” this is where i go into my “if we all work together, it will go by so quickly” speech which translates “you aren’t sticking me with all this mess to clean up by myself, kiddo.” in the same way my kids dread chore time, i too dread that inner voice calling me to do my part. “nooooo!” my selfish heart calls. Lord, give me the grace to answer your call in my cheerfullest voice.

number seven: don’t complain about responsibilities you have chosen to take on. closely related to number eight, this one refers to complaints regarding volunteered for responsibilities (such as guinea pigs and lizards) as opposed to responsibilities you were assigned (such as cleaning the toilet or taking out the recycling ). while i roll my eyes in disgust at my children’s lack of gratitude for their pets and other sundry work-requiring privileges , i really should be giving my forehead a big smack. how often do i complain about “the burdens” i am carrying, the burdens i called blessings when i asked for them. may i daily give thanks for these blessings and ask for the grace to carry them.

number six: let he who is without sin cast the first stone. one of my favorite familiar ironies is the accusations which often fly around the dinner table immediately following prayer time. “so and so had his eyes open while we were praying!” everyone knows that God is unable to hear our prayers unless everyone’s eyes are tightly closed. putting that fact aside, assuming that God has not granted you transparent eyelids, your eyes were in fact open as well. how often are my eyes scoping out others rather than looking inward, or better yet upward? grant me eyes that see only You, God.

to be continued…