I Just Want Them to Be Happy…

..but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.

Romans 5:3b-5 ESV via biblegateway.com
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I once had to drop out of a thread on social media. (Actually, I’ve had to drop out of a number of threads, but that is neither here nor there…) The thread was about parenting, and priorities. The main thrust was that, as a parent, one’s top priority was to make one’s children “happy.” If your child wanted a particular toy for her/his birthday, you would certainly do whatever you could to get “that” toy. If your child wanted the latest fashion in shoes, you would certainly try to buy them. If your child wanted to be successful, you would do whatever you could to see that he/she got into the “best” schools and had the “best” opportunities in life. And if they wanted to do something of which you disapproved, you would still encourage them to follow their dream– if it would make them happy. Of course, this didn’t include letting your child abuse drugs or become a criminal. But in general, it meant sacrificing and taking a back seat to your child’s emotional well-being.

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On the surface, this seems like good parenting. Of course, I don’t “want” my child to be miserable, or unsuccessful, or “left out.” And I don’t want to impose my dreams and wishes onto my child, or live my life through him/her. I would not wish hardship and suffering to come to anyone, especially those I love. Except…I want them to develop endurance, and character, and hope, and compassion, and wisdom, and humility, and faith. And all these things come from suffering, losing, and learning from difficult experiences.

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I dropped out of the thread for a couple of reasons: I have learned that whenever the subject of parenting comes up, my experience (or lack thereof) makes my opinion “invalid” to those who disagree. “You’ve never had children. You don’t know what it’s like.” But I know what it was like to BE a child, and to have parents. I’ve observed the results of parenting by others, both good and bad. I know that even good parenting can’t guarantee “happy” teenagers! And even “bad” parenting can produce children who break the cycle and become adults of integrity and joy. The other reason I held back was that, in my experience, those who post such threads only want their own opinions confirmed. The people posting on this thread were not “bad” parents–in fact, they probably would agree with me if we had the time to sit down and talk through the issue. But one of the downfalls of social media is that we want short, pithy advice, instead of long and serious discussions. We don’t want nuances; we want comfortable “likes.”

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I don’t want my family members– my step-children, grandchildren, nieces and nephews, and cousins, etc.–to be defeated by suffering. I don’t want them to be overwhelmed by depression and anxiety. I don’t pray for them to be hurt or frustrated, because “it’s for their own good.” But I do pray that they will learn strength and courage, faith and trust, hope and joy as they overcome struggles, conquer fears, fight life’s battles, and walk in obedience to the One who has won the final victory. I don’t “just” want them to be happy. I want them to find the lasting joy that comes from developing a Godly character. That may bring me to tears when I see them fighting illness and hardship, persecution, depression, and other setbacks. But it also keeps me on my knees and reaching out as they understand that I’m there whether they’re sad, or angry, or hurting– and so is the God who loves them forever!

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Praying For My Children From Another Mother

(Dedicated to all those who are step-mothers, adoptive mothers, foster mothers, or in other ways entrusted with children not of their womb.)

I did not give birth to them, Father. They are not the children of my womb; they are still the children of my heart.

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And I know you love them more than I do. That they are YOUR children first, last, and foremost.

God, Thank You for giving me the privilege of letting me be part of their lives; for allowing me to share their hopes and dreams, their failures and their struggles; their smiles and their tears. Thank you for their unique interests and personalities. Thank you for their laughter, and their questions. Thank you for their hugs, and their pouts, and more questions…

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Father, help me to see them with your eyes– not through the lens of my own hopes or expectations; or my inadequacies and fears–help me to see who they are, and who you created them to be. Help me to help them to see how special they are in your eyes.

Help me to honor these children by not dishonoring the mother who gave them birth. May I never cause her children to despise her–or themselves– because of what I say about her. But help me to protect these precious children from anyone–anyone– who would hurt, abuse, exploit, or endanger them. May our home be a safe place to learn love and forgiveness and healing in a world of broken families.

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Help me to honor my husband as the leader in our home. Help me to model how to be a true “help-mate” and partner– not a nag; nor a dishrag–a strong, compassionate, supportive, and respectful team player.

Help me to foster good relationships among all the children of this household– to love them each differently, and yet the same. To be fair to each individual, giving them guidance and “space” according to their needs. To do and say all in my power to help each child feel secure in our love and secure in their “place” as part of this family.

Help me to forgive and ask forgiveness freely– through outbursts, baggage, fears, and tantrums– theirs and mine!

Most of all, help me to introduce each one to Your all-encompassing love, Your wisdom, and Your eternal care. May they see you in the things I say and do; in the way we love and forgive as a family; in the way we seek the best together.

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In the name of Jesus, whose earthly father was entrusted with a similar gift,

Amen

Why Being “Nice” Matters

I spent the day with my granddaughter today.  We went to the bakery, the bank, the grocery, and the library.  Some days we visit the post office or a local cafe.  We live downtown, so we walk everywhere, and say hello to people we meet along the way.  At each stop, we thank the people behind the counter or desk.  My granddaughter is learning manners– how to be polite in public.  Her parents do a wonderful job of this, and it’s very easy for me to bask in the proud glow of people remarking on how cute and polite and engaging she is.  (I may be a little biased, but they DO say such things…)

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Years ago, when I worked at a library, there were always families who came in and practiced good manners– “Please” and “Thank You,” “Excuse me,” “I’m sorry,” and “May I?”  Often, the children were prompted, especially when they were young.  Sometimes, they didn’t understand why they were being told to say such things.  A couple of times, I had other parents roll their eyes and comment negatively on such practices.  “They don’t even understand what they’re saying.”  “I’ll bet they don’t say any of those things at home– what hypocrites.  They’re just trying to make people think they’re better than everybody else.”  “You shouldn’t force kids to say such things.  They’ll just resent you for it later.”

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There are actually parenting articles about forcing children to say “I’m sorry.”  They are well-intentioned, and some are helpful about explaining what the issues are (here’s a link to one of the articles) .  Other articles advise parents not to prompt children to say, “Thank You.” (Here’s another link.)  I don’t disagree with these authors.  In fact, I think they make a valid point about teaching our kids “shallow” manners and neglecting the deeper values of gratitude and empathy.  But I think children need both.

Manners (especially as they reflect deeper values) are important.  We live in a society where manners are becoming relics–laughable reminders of a quaint culture we have long outgrown.  There are pockets of the country (and the larger world) where politeness is almost an obsession.  It is not polite or helpful to be facetiously “nice” or sarcastically “nice”.  But what happens when we no longer dare to show gratitude or empathy without inviting ridicule and contempt?  What happens when saying “Please” and “Thank you” make you a target for mockery? When and how did this happen to our culture?

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With all due respect to the recent spate of articles, I think something gets lost in the hyperbolic headlines and fascination with “feelings”–manners should originate, not with feelings, but with the acknowledgement of some basic truths:

  • I am not the center of the universe!
  • Other people– all other people–have value, worth, and dignity.
  • I need other people, and they need me–I am not an island.
  • There is a God who is kind, forgiving, loving, and wise.

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I am polite to others, not because I feel “nice”, but because I recognize that God created all people; He loves us all equally, and I have a duty to treat others with dignity, respect, and kindness– even if I don’t “feel” it; even if they don’t respond in kind.  Do I always remember and acknowledge this, even as an adult?  Sadly, no.  But I practice politeness as a discipline and a reminder that this should be so.  I teach it for the same reason.  And the amazing thing is that it makes a huge difference.  Maybe not in the moment, with all my emotions running wild…but in the quiet aftermath of knowing that I said “Thank you” instead of the hurtful and sarcastic comment.  I said “I’m sorry” instead of holding on to my pride and bitterness.  And I may never know the difference it made to the harried waitress, or lonely shopper, or tired mechanic to hear two or three kind words– “Thank You” (You are noticed– you matter).  “I’m so sorry” (you have dignity–you are worthy of kindness) “Please” (you have value–your time, skill, or service is special)

I’m not a “nice” person– I am often hateful and stubborn and impatient.  But God has been abundantly gracious and merciful to me when I don’t deserve it.  Being polite is such a small thing in light of God’s eternal and boundless love toward us.

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Our Father

Dad.  Daddy.  Pops.  Papi.  Da.  Father.

During my youngest years, I called my father “Daddy.”  Daddy was someone to hold me when I was tired, or frightened, or just in need of a hug.  Daddy had all the answers; he could turn my tears into giggles, my pouts into apologies.  His stern word could melt away rebellion; his smile could fill my heart to bursting.

As I grew older, he became “Dad.”  Dad was wise.  Dad gave good advise– even when I didn’t always take it.  Dad listened and showed interest in what I said.  Dad challenged me to do better, think deeper, try harder, and work smarter.  Dad didn’t pick me up and carry me, but he was there beside me when I needed someone to lean on or lend a hand.  Dad was my coach and advocate.

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As an adult, Dad sometimes became “Pa.”  Pa was someone who had “been there”.  He had experience, and wisdom.  He had patience and compassion.  But his days of coaching and propping me up were fewer; his days of sharing his own faults, his unfulfilled dreams, his regrets–commiserating rather than commanding– grew more and became more precious to me.  He was still my father, but he was also my friend– a fellow traveler on this road; one I knew well and loved dearly.  One I respected and trusted, even though he was not perfect.

I was blessed to have a father who was good and kind; a man of integrity and humor; a man who loved his family more than life, loved his neighbors, his community, music, nature, animals, and good food.  Most of all, he loved God.  Not with fire and brimstone fanaticism, but with humble astonishment that God would send his son to die for him.  He lived in the wonder of that truth– that “whosoever believeth (in him) should not perish, but have eternal life” included him.

I say all this, not just to honor my earthly father, or to thank my heavenly father for that relationship, but to point out how prayer is often a reflection of how we view fatherhood.  Some people have a difficult time praying and trusting God because they have never known an earthly father; or they’ve only known earthly fathers who were distant, unapproachable, or abusive.  If this is the case for you, may I encourage you to ask God to reveal himself in a fresh way, with a name and vision that is personal and distinct from the earthly father you have known.  Some people view God as “Daddy”–someone who fixes everything, holds us close, and keeps us safe.  And he is all those things.  But he is also “Dad” who wants to challenge us and coach us to grow and develop our character.  He is “Abba”, and “Senor”, “Lord,” and “Father” and “Papa”.  He is not “Pa” in the sense I knew my father, in that we are not his peers when we reach adulthood.  He has no faults to share, no regrets.  But he wants to share that precious intimacy that comes with time and familiarity–he wants us to develop trust and love as we get to know him better, however we call him.

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There is one clear difference between God and any of our earthly parents– God is GOD– he is the creator and ruler of galaxies, and of microcosms,  omnipotent and omniscient, omnipresent and eternal, holy and sovereign.

And when I pray, I pray to him– almighty King of Kings– and my Father!

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