My kids are to the ages now where I am not spending half the trip picking up sippy cups, stuffed animals, and fruit snacks as fast as they can drop them. My torso is no longer twisted backwards and wedged between the front seats for hundreds of miles at a time.
As much as I enjoyed those opportunities to test out the limits of my physical and psychological endurance (and sanctification), I must say I am enjoying the new views out the front windshield.
And Jamey (I'm sure) appreciates my helpful observations about how fast he is driving and what constitutes a safe tailing distance, although sometimes he accidentally turns the radio on so loud that he has trouble hearing me. Silly guy!
Whenever he does that, I give up and just start eating trip snacks and thinking about stuff...
...and so it happened that I spent a blissful two days grazing my way across six states, pondering the universe.
Don't worry. I won't burden you with all my ruminations--just two or three states' worth.
I wrote a blog a few weeks ago about the unique challenges of homeschooling boys, and since then I have continued to observe them, and observe myself with them, and analyze what could make things better because, frankly, none of us is having much fun this year.
This became clear several weeks ago when I playfully threw my arms around one of my sons and asked, "Who's your favorite mom?"
In the past, this move has elicited laughter and a warm, enthusiastic, "You are!"
This time, my sweet boy thought for a minute and said, "Aunt Nichole."
Ouch.
Additionally, numerous references have been made to a so-called "Fun Mom" who reportedly used to live here and roast pumpkin seeds and play board games and go on field trips and smile a lot. I'm not sure she ever existed, but I'm getting tired of hearing about her.
Actually, let's be honest. I want to be her, but right now I am too busy walking around telling people to pick up their laundry and finish their math pages and stop hitting each other--in addition to worrying that I will not have Christina's high school transcript done until she is 25. (Ha ha, Sweetheart! Don't worry! I'm almost totally kidding.)
So last week somewhere between Kentucky and Georgia, I mentally pulled out the two women and compared them. What does Fun Mom have that I don't?
Well first of all, Fun Mom was ten years younger than I am which absolutely does make a difference, but other than that what is her secret?
Here is what I came up with. Fun Mom was a parenting Pollyanna...er, optimist. She had done her research and had developed a vision--and a "fool proof" plan to achieve it. She had small children who were malleable and manageable, and still took naps when she wanted them to.
Mistakes were made, but she rested in the knowledge that there were still years ahead in which to correct them. There were frustrations and battles of the will, but deep down she and her children still thought she probably knew everything, and her kiddos gave her countless sticky hugs, and sweetly upturned eyes, and their undivided loyalty to prove her right.
And life was good! How can you not be perky and happy and fun and energetic when you know you have life by the horns and you're winning?
Fast forward to the present day. I still have some of that sweet affirmation from the younger set, but now I am looking at Fun Mom from the other end of that "decade of dreams", and guess what? I didn't know everything and my older kids are beginning to figure it out.
This revelation may be one of the explanations for my sudden decrease in cheerful (over)confidence. It could also explain the uptick in worrying and fretting, and the increase in irritation.
I have begun to question myself.
My vision was great, but it turns out there are no "fool-proof parenting plans" which can guarantee perfectly perfect kids, and that scares me.
Children can grow up in a community of faith, and eat well balanced meals, and have a million, billion questions answered, and be loved and nurtured, and read good books, and be protected from evil, and learn from watching other people get hurt by bad decisions, and have everything explained and discussed and analyzed and contextualized--and still decide to chuck it all someday and dive 20 feet headfirst into a kiddie pool.
Now, I am not intending to scare anyone with this post. Grandparents, you can rest easy! I promise I'm not writing this on my way down to spring one of the kids out of juvie.
It's just that as I pondered the differences between myself and "Fun Mom" on our recent trip, I realized a few things.
My parenting mistakes are becoming more and more obvious. It appears I did have some bad ideas after all and the number of years I have left to make up for them is dwindling. That is just a fact, and I never should have thought that I could overcome sin nature (mine or my children's) with perfect parenting tricks.
Meanwhile, I now see that my children are not cute, cuddly extensions of myself. They are not accessories. They are not machines. And they are not simple.
They are large, hungry, willful mysteries. They are less malleable than I thought they were ten years ago and less manageable than I expected they would be by now.
In short, they are a lot like me.
I am seeing many good things in my almost-growns, but because they are developing minds of their own, making more and more decisions on their own, and often navigating friendships, jobs, and classes without me, I am feeling a little bit panicked and powerless.
I made some mistakes they could learn from, but are they really listening? I know some things that could save them from pain and heartache, but are they interested? I love them enough to die for them, but will that be enough to keep them safe?
I still think that many of my children hold me in high esteem, but I know they have begun to see my feet of clay and they no longer think I am infallible. Will they still respect me? Will my failings obscure the truth I have tried to speak into their lives?
I can (and do) observe them and cultivate relationships with them and draw them into conversations, and offer them counsel and support and direction, but I am seeing that I don't have as much control of their inner landscapes as I thought I did.
My finger is not so surely on the spiritual pulse of every child as it once was when they parroted back Awana verses and catechisms at my knee.
To top it off, the world has also begun to offer up competing philosophies. Words and images and ideas are coming at them faster than I can ever hope to filter them. Will they buy in? Will truth speak louder? Only God knows.
So where do these musings leave an earnest and well-meaning Mama?
First, there are a few things I would like to tell "Fun Mom". What you may lose over the years in relentless positivity you will gain in compassionate humility. Better moms than you have "done it right" and watched a beloved fledgling fall from a feathered nest into a pit of vipers.
You will learn to love those ladies more and judge them less as you experience what it means to release your babies one by one into a dangerous world. As careful as you have been, one day it might be your child hurt and your broken heart and love is what you will need.
Secondly, you need to pray more and plan less. You may get glimpses inside your children's hearts. You may be able to bend their ear for a season. You may earn their trust and experience their love, but only God can save them. Give them to Him on your knees, every day, as often as you can. This will keep you from becoming trapped in either pride or panic.
And you can't try to do everything, or you will burn out (like I did) and stop doing anything. If you don't sign up for every single field trip, or check every single box on the curriculum guide, or volunteer to help for every single church and co-op event, the world won't collapse. Really!
Fun Mom, if you are not careful you can wear yourself out trying to give your older children every possible experience--to the point where your little ones are getting crumbs. I did that.
The inside of the public library is a place shrouded in mystery for my youngest kids, and I'm pretty sure they think a field trip is when I am dragging them through the grocery store on the way back from the dentist. It wasn't like that for my first few children. I am now having to discover what balance looks like, and it is not easy.
On the flip side, I could learn a few things from Fun Mom. Part of my general, overall discouragement and crankiness comes from selfish irritation over my kids' failures. After all my good-faith efforts, they still disobey me, give in to laziness, thwart my plans, and fail to meet expectations.
Frankly, that irks me. It bothers me that after all my hard work and careful planning, my kids didn't sign on. How can this be? I gave them the rules, the road map, and the rationale, and yet...?
It turns out they are cut from the same willful and unpredictable cloth as the rest of humanity.
And I am taking it personally.
But it is not about me. If they fail or sin or stray, they are more apt to hurt themselves than anyone else. And of course they are missing out on the great blessing of living under the perfect, protective plans of God.
So why am I taking such offense? Why are my hackles raised so easily? Why is it so tempting to blow out my personal frustrations on this small, captive audience?
Let's go back to Fun Mom for a moment. For all her faults, she was a natural encourager. Her heart was toward her children even as she corrected them, and this often made her discipline into a form of nurture.
And isn't this how God interacts with us?
Despite the fact that He had the ultimate right to take offense at our sin, He chose to lay down His rights on our behalf, taking the burden for our souls upon Himself. Philippians 2:5-8
His love was costly and lavish, and in the same way His discipline is for our benefit. He chastens us to mold us, prune us, and make us flourish. He desires to loosen our grasp on the things that hurt us and return us to perfect, loving communion with Him.
His correction has always had restoration at it's heart, and that is how mine should be as well.
Fun Mom looked on the bright side, expecting that each failure was a temporary lapse which would be followed in time by a return to the loving connection that she and her children shared.
She had faith.
Now, too often her faith was misplaced--put into plans and methods and theories, sometimes even in herself, but the impulse was right.
Each infraction my children commit does not have to be viewed as a personal affront, or horriblized into a projection for a bleak future for the offender.
If God's grace is sufficient to cover and correct my many failings, then it can do the same for theirs.
If His forgiveness and encouragement can outlast my perpetual stubbornness, then my forgiveness and encouragement should be freely given as well.
As I see it, my job should be to administer only as much discipline as is needed to remind my children's hearts where the good path lies--without any of my own punitive, self-centered irritation and ego mixed in.
This leaves space for calm consideration and measured responses, and for lighthearted, hopeful interactions--even in the midst of correction. Fun Mom was good at this, and my hope is that I can re-learn what she once knew.
So, here is the one word summation of my cogitation: Encouragement.
I had it. I lost it. I need it back.
It is such a powerful force! Essential, really.
It is a gentle but powerful weapon, able to soften hearts and change minds, but it can only be wielded by souls who have learned the art of loving beyond themselves.
As I thought through the times in my life (like right now) when I have been bowed under the weight of natural consequences or self-condemnation, I realized how refreshing it has been to look up and see that someone is there, willing and waiting to help me up. As Christians, this is what we are called to do for each other.
Galatians 6:1-2 speaks about it directly.
It says, "Brothers and sisters, if someone is caught in a sin, you who live by the Spirit should restore that person gently. But watch yourselves, or you also may be tempted. Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ."
Although there is no question that we should be helping each other through the external burdens of grief, sickness, financial hardship, etc. the particular "burdens" mentioned in this passage refer directly back to painful situations caused by sin.
If am to "gently restore" a grown-up brother when he is caught in sin, what about my own vulnerable and dependent children? Shouldn't they be the first to receive gentle, encouraging, grace-filled correction from me?
Shouldn't I be willing to speak, and wait, and love with soft eyes and a patient heart? Shouldn't I carry their "burdens" a little farther before I give in to frustration or give up in despair?
Isn't that what I want others to do for me? Yep.
So here's to Fun Mom! Or at least "A-Little-Bit-Funner-Mom." (Baby steps) May her smiling face once again be seen in my home...
...minus her delusions of invincibility, her serious over-confidence, and her tendencies toward over-commitment, of course;)
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Romans 15:4-5
For whatever was written in former days was written for our instruction, that through endurance and through the encouragement of the Scriptures we might have hope!
May the God of endurance and encouragement grant you to live in such harmony with one another, in accord with Christ Jesus.
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