In this chapter:
Let’s be honest. I’ll go first and admit that I underestimated the importance of emotional readiness for parenting. I was prepared in every other respect. And being prepared for parenthood turned out to be more than having a stroller and a car seat or savings for your unborn child’s education. The digital camera’s batteries may be recharged and a large memory chip may be inserted for the 1,001 pictures of the birth and newborn days, but even then a parent’s heart might not be ready to give what is most needed.
Readiness starts with basic maturity—the mind-set of no longer living only for yourself and your own needs but for someone else as well. Readiness for parenting also means that you start thinking about what you will invest in your children. It’s about an eternal legacy, because they will probably outlive you!
To make a baby is one of the actions for which you need the least skills. It takes almost no experience, talent or expertise. Even people who can’t throw a Frisbee, switch on the video machine or keep a job can make a baby.
Erma Bombeck, Motherhood, the Second Oldest Profession
Readiness also reflects a softened heart that is ready to learn about love and to receive help in the process. It is a mind-set that acknowledges, “I am not the whole story when it comes to parenting. God, other parents, life, friends, and influences will parent with me. I will deserve neither all the blame nor all the glory. I will be stretched in the process.”
How can we better prepare ourselves for parenting? Reading books and attending a clinic or parenting talks will help, but we also need to sort out some deeper things in ourselves. Keep these three principles in mind:
1. We need shaping just as much as our children need it.
2. Our past ought to make way for a new plan.
3. We can emulate God as the Great Gardener.
Our first question as parents is usually: What can I do with this child? Actually, the question should be: What could I become for this child?
The answer is straightforward: I can invite the Great Gardener (God) to prune me even as I am pruning my saplings, and to shape me while I am shaping my young ones so we might all bear fruit (John 15:2).
Mistakes don’t disqualify us from being parents, provided that we understand one thing: a parent living surrendered to Jesus is a better example of a Christ follower than a parent who tries to fake perfection, just as a rusty sign pointing in the right direction is better than a shiny new sign pointing in the wrong direction. So we may not be perfect, but we can always be forgiven and try again.
This book will suggest ways in which we parents can shape our discipline, our dialect, our dedication, our direction, and our discipling of our kids, with the goal of pruning them according to God’s design for their individual personality types.
Those of us who want to be good parents may need to leave these two things behind:
1. The example set by our parents
2. Our own unpleasant parenting experiences
Why would we leave behind our parents’ example?
A marriage is the start of a new family, and many young couples have trouble letting go of their families of origin in a healthy way. When it comes to disciplining children, however, a family cannot afford to have more than two parents, each with his or her own opinion, in one house. Many homes already have two parents who can’t agree. Add additional voices whispering in the parents’ ears, telling them how their mother or father would have acted in the situation, and you’ll have as many as six opinions and constant conflict under one roof.
Those of us who have good childhood memories and who had a secure relationship with our parents are especially at risk of doing exactly what they did and what would please them, without thinking for ourselves. I am calling it a risk because the demands on parents have changed a lot during the past twenty years, and even if you learned good things from your parents, you can’t discipline in the same way they did. And even if you could, it would not prepare your child for today’s world. To do what they did may even be against the law now!
There is another, more important, reason to avoid using a “copy and paste” approach to parenting: you are not like your child any more than your parents were exactly like you when you were a kid. Your purpose and journey differ greatly from the plans God has for your kids.
Good parenting is proactive rather than reactive. This means having your own plan based on the purposes God reveals for your kids and not just blindly following someone else’s example of what (or what not) to do. Are you spanking because you were spanked and “turned out fine”? Are you not spanking because your parents spanked you in anger? Are you using time-out because “all the other people at church believe in it”? Are you encouraging your child down a certain career path because your parents wouldn’t allow you to follow it?
If you cannot give a good reason for your parenting style or method, you may not be able to hold your own against manipulative toddlers, nagging family members and friends, or this year’s ten top tips for toddler training. You could become a chameleon parent experimenting on your children instead of an intentional gardener who prepares the soil, fertilizes the saplings intelligently, and lives to see the fruit mature as your kids enter into God’s purpose for them.
If your childhood memories are riddled with painful moments, you may want to rewrite those hurts through the way you parent your children. This potentially dangerous strategy is reactive and often based on a one-sided perspective of what happened many years ago. For your children’s sake, it’s more important to discern God’s calling on your child’s life and cooperate with Him to make it a reality.
Allow me to share a story.
I was thirty-two and already the mom of two kids. Any emotional outburst on their part plunged me into panic because I had made a private vow that I would never let them cry a desperate cry without responding with everything I had. Yet, I also knew that children could use those gut-wrenching cries to manipulate. My inner conflict was unbearable: Do I give in, or do I ignore the cries of a little one who wants me back in the room after bedtime? Do I race back in, or do I walk away from the preschool classroom while my daughter is screaming my name?
My vow came from a memory of when I was only three years old. This is how I remember that day: My mom dropped me off for a playdate at our German friends’ house. Mom was in a hurry, but I was clingy. Exasperated, she turned to her friend and said, “Heidi, just take her from me, please!” The woman pulled me off my mom, and my mom left. In my three-year-old mind, the expression on my mom’s face was anger. I fell to the ground for a tantrum of note. The older children made a circle around me and imitated my sobs. They teased me in German. I felt utterly abandoned.
Twenty-nine years later, a wise mentor sat me down and helped me deal with this memory. She had the wisdom to realize that what I remembered probably was only part of the story, and she knew that my being a good mom would depend on moving beyond this hurt. If I couldn’t, my aim as a mom would remain very small; it would simply be to never let the same thing happen to my children. But God wanted me to do something much bigger: to raise kids who knew their purpose!
My mentor prayed me through that memory. As I recalled the moment, I saw Jesus with us on the sidewalk, His arm around my mom’s shoulders and compassion for her all over His face. I saw her face more clearly now, and her expression wasn’t anger or frustration; it was sadness mixed with apprehension. She didn’t know which way to go.
I became upset and told my mentor I didn’t understand why Jesus felt sorry for my mom or why my mom seemed so lost. Wasn’t I lost and hurting too? Yet, all my anger toward my mom melted away as I saw the picture in a whole new light. I felt sorry for her. I suddenly questioned all the other memories that “proved” she didn’t care for my feelings. I recalled situations where I had assumed she had acted out of annoyance, but now I could imagine other explanations. I gave in to the overwhelming urge to drive to her house to find out what had really happened that day.
I started our conversation with this confession: “Mom, God showed me today that even though I thought you were sometimes deliberately hurtful, you never did anything to purposely hurt me.”
My mom wept as she also recounted the many times she had failed to show me how much she cared. She made me tea when it was coffee I wanted. She bought me clothes in styles and colors I didn’t like. “I feel as if there has always been something standing right between us, twisting every word and action,” she concluded. She was absolutely right!
This was her side of the story: She and Heidi had met during prebirth checkups at the hospital. They both expected twins, and my mom, being fluent in German, made a connection that turned into a friendship. They gave birth on the same day and roomed in the same ward. My twin brother and I were born healthy. Heidi’s baby boy died, and her little girl was born with severe cerebral palsy. The special bond and friendship continued, and Heidi kept requesting that I have playdates with her daughter. My compassionate mom waited until she felt I was ready. She prepared me for the visit and chose a suitable day, when she would be passing through their neighborhood for another commitment on her way to a show at the State Theatre. She would drop me off before the show and pick me up afterward.
Upon arrival at Heidi’s house, I was no longer up for the visit, but my mom had all the theater tickets for herself and some friends. In these days before mobile phones, she had no way to make an alternative arrangement. She was caught among three impossibly hard decisions: Should she take me home and let down all her friends waiting at the theater? Should she take a three-year-old to the theater without a ticket while also disappointing Heidi, who had anticipated the visit for a long time? Or should she stick to the plan and pray I would get over the bout of separation anxiety and have a fun time? She chose the last option, but not without her heart breaking.
This explained the arm Jesus placed around her shoulder. I saw His gesture as saying, “Oh, sweet mom. You are doing the best you can here. You are making a painful choice for the sake of others and—very unfairly—there is going to be a price to pay. Your daughter will misunderstand and hold this against you for many years. She will believe the lie that you don’t feel her pain. She’ll put up a wall of defense, and many of your attempts to love her will fail to scale that wall. But I will bring a day when she will see the truth. And even this is part of her shaping for a special purpose.”
Many things changed in an instant that day when Mom and I finally talked about the memory. My mom’s true heart became visible. Deep down I had always known how thoughtful and compassionate she was, though I could never give her credit. Instead of feeling she owed me an apology, I felt great remorse at how hard I had been on her for decades. Instead of wanting to do everything different from her, I came to see her as my best friend and role model. Even today I try to be more like her. I have my own parenting convictions now; however, they are no longer a response to pain—they are a proactive plan.
As for my purpose, God always knew He would put me in parenting ministry someday. My name means “star of hope,” and I needed a revelation of God’s hope for every broken relationship. Through this painful experience, I learned that even decades of misunderstanding can turn into deep friendship and respect. I don’t believe in irreconcilable differences, incompatible personalities, or doomed families. I have evidence and experience to the contrary, thanks to the day my mom and I thought she had messed it all up.
Will my children misunderstand some of my actions? Absolutely. Will they make inner vows that start with, “I will never do what she did when …”? Probably. When their first babies are born, I will tell them this story and urge them to begin their parenting years with truth and forgiveness of past hurts. To start new. To start untriggered. To believe in God’s purpose even in parenting pain.
Friends, don’t get me wrong: By no means do I count myself an expert in all of this, but I’ve got my eye on the goal, where God is beckoning us onward—to Jesus. I’m off and running, and I’m not turning back.
Philippians 3:13–14
How can we start over if our own parenting mistakes haunt us?
Almost all parents who feel that they have failed harbor such feelings because of one or more incidents of conflict with their children. This means that someone is guilty, someone is angry, someone is sorry, someone is sad, or someone is lonely. All these emotions make the problems seem bigger than they really are. Therefore, we would be wise to pray for perspective before we can tackle the problem.
A mistake is not necessarily an indication of poor parenting. We ought to rectify what we can, but we also need to know that we will make many mistakes over the course of our children’s lives. This is allowed in parenting! It’s helpful and healthy to identify the events that have led to our feelings of failure and try to solve them as best we can. Unfortunately, if we sweep these things under the carpet, eventually we have to get them back out. The feelings of sadness, guilt, or bitterness will not go away until we deal with them. They are smoke signals that lead us to the smoldering fire of unresolved issues.
Prayerfully tackle one issue at a time. If your children are adults, try being frank: “It still bothers me that I [name what you think you did wrong]. This is how I think it damaged our relationship … Is that what you feel too?” 1 Once you both have given your side of the incident, be the adult in the room. Don’t defend your words or actions. Ask for forgiveness. Repeat this process as often as needed until all the lies and vows and mantras float belly up in the sea of God’s good plans for both of you.
Sometimes the only forgiveness that is needed is the forgiveness of ourselves—something we can learn to do in prayer. Forgiving yourself is simply giving yourself less credit while giving God more. “I have not destroyed my kids, because God’s love and purpose for them are greater than my failures. My sin is not so exceptional that the suffering and death of Jesus could atone for everyone but me. I can be forgiven, and all the damage I have done can be redeemed, thanks to God’s grace!” After repenting of our parenting failures, we should make an effort to discipline our thoughts, keeping them from dwelling on these past hurts.
Perhaps your children’s bad behavior haunts you more than your own. Like your own mistakes, a child’s serious blunder is not necessarily a sign of bad parenting. Sometimes we can do everything right and still have to look on as our children make poor choices. That is the reality of freedom of choice. Our children can say yes or no to our parenting advice.
Imagine the difference in your relationship if you could forget their worst fiasco and give them a new start each day. Forgiving them is the same process as forgiving yourself. Give your child less credit and God more. Your child has not out-sinned every other sinner. Jesus has canceled those mistakes effectively. Your child is not beyond salvation, because God is not intimidated by human devastation. He is a Master Rebuilder!
Will you allow yourself and your children to start over? The Lord is ready to help you through His Spirit.
We emulate God in three aspects of parenting—presence, priorities, and purpose.
Our role as parents will change significantly over the years, but we never leave the stage. Diaper duty makes way for carpool turns and later for high school party supervision. Initially, we enjoy the spotlight and play a major part in our children’s lives, but later on we play less central roles, and eventually we may even become part of the props. Nevertheless, we remain written into our children’s life scripts forever. We emulate God’s parenting presence.
The Bible shows us a hands-on God. He literally gets His hands dirty when He makes His first son and puts His own breath in him (Genesis 2:7). He provides Eden and Eve—a delightful environment and means to fulfill every need. He forges an intimate relationship by being close and speaking to His children. He makes rules, like any good parent, and He announces and enforces consequences for sin (Genesis 3). Throughout it all, He gives great grace. He equips His children to live as wonderful beings and to make Him known in the world.
There is no other model for parents to follow.
We also need to emulate God’s parenting priorities. He is all about family! He makes us sons and daughters and binds every believer together into one household (2 Corinthians 6:18; Galatians 4:5; Ephesians 2:19). He regards the way we treat our family as our most important testimony and our key credibility check as leaders (1 Timothy 3:4; 5:8).
Yet many ambitions and desires war against the health of our families, don’t they? During a season when I was definitely more concerned with my career than my kids (God help me, I often still am!), Psalm 127 caught my eye. It holds a stern caution that we may be wasting our time by rising early and staying up late toiling for what is temporary (food, clothes, promotion, and a roof over our head), because the Lord grants sleep to those He loves. Sleep? Does He really mean that a sign of His approval is not wealth or perfect kids, but instead rest? Not a grand house or medals and trophies, but instead peaceful sleep? Not all the stuff that symbolize success, but instead those sweet faces we wake up to in the morning (and often several times at night)? This psalm says that it is not God driving us to all this striving. Verses 3 through 5 remind us that children are “God’s best gift,” a reward from Him, and our “generous legacy.”
Clearly the psalmist understood something of this apparent juggling act between building a life and raising kids. He unlocks the truth for us: raising children is building a life. Don’t confuse it with the accumulation of wealth or climbing corporate and social ladders.
There is another noteworthy aspect to God’s parenting: He doesn’t treat all of His children the same. He makes each of them unique with unique gifts (1 Corinthians 12:4–6, 29–30). This is His parenting purpose. He places a calling on their lives and guides each into his or her own journey (1 Corinthians 7:17). Each of God’s children even receives tailor-made grace (Ephesians 4:7) and individualized rewards (1 Corinthians 3:8; Revelation 22:12). Emulating our Gardener in this way means giving up on the idea of raising superkids according to our vision for their lives, and instead parenting our unique children according to their God-given design. We are called to the challenge and adventure of identifying that design in each of our children and prayerfully pruning it into a God-glorifying thing of beauty!
Prayerfully ask yourself these questions to discern the current effectiveness of your parenting approach. Take the answers to God for His grace and guidance as you step into His calling as the parent your children need.
Am I willing to be shaped as much as I shape my kids?
Am I willing to exchange the past for a new vision?
Am I willing to emulate the Great Gardener?