CHAPTER 9

WHERE THE RUBBER MEETS THE ROAD

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FOR THE FIRST FIVE YEARS of our nonprofit, my husband and I worked out of our office located in a building in our backyard. (The commute was awesome.) There was always someone in that small building packing boxes for Fair Trade Friday, filling orders for the online Mercy House store, and pricing product. Brittany, a mom who helped us part-time by doing a little bit of everything, came every Thursday and Friday. We would leave the back door to the house open so she could use the restroom, grab a drink, or ask a question.

One day as she walked through the house, I was standing at the kitchen counter answering e-mail on my laptop. I started to say something, but I stopped because neither of us could hear the other over Madison practicing her flute in another room. She was working especially hard on some high notes, and I think I inadvertently shuddered. I smiled an apology at Brittany.

Brittany opened the back door in the kitchen to go back to the building, and Jon-Avery was on the back porch shooting archery. Brittany has two toddlers, and we talk a lot about parenting. “Can I ask you a question?” she said when Madison paused. “Are your kids on a schedule? Do you make them practice at a certain time? Every week when I come in the afternoon, Madison is playing her flute and Jon-Avery is busy with archery.”

I laughed. “No, they are just both passionate about those things. They practice because they love it and want to improve.”

Brittany went back to work, and I stood there in the kitchen thinking about her question and my answer. Like most parents, I’ve threatened and nagged and forced my kids to practice reading and tying shoes and piano. But I don’t have to remind them to practice what they love.

It’s true for everyone. For example, I have friends who love cooking. They can’t wait to try out new recipes, and they love kitchen gadgets. (For the record, I’m not one of those people.) We enjoy what we enjoy. But life isn’t just about what we love; most of the lessons we learn come because of hard work and practice. And sometimes practicing more makes us love something more.

I’ve researched and written and poured my heart into this book, but without practical application, it’s hard to know where to start. How do we shift our homes from entitled to thankful and start the slow process of turning things around? We start with consistency.

For a couple of years now, every Tuesday at four thirty I’ve taken Emerson to a tumbling class. After discovering her doing flips on the trampoline and constantly “trying new moves,” I decided this class was more for her safety than a hobby. But it turns out, she isn’t just high-energy and in need of a release valve, she genuinely loves to tumble.

One night at dinner after a lesson, her big sister asked, “What did you do in tumbling today?” Emerson sighed. “The same thing we do every single week.” She sounded frustrated, but that’s because she can’t see what I can.

Yes, she does the same thing over and over, and it feels like she’s not getting anywhere, but I can see the consistent practice is making her stronger, sturdier, better. Her coach makes small adjustments and adds minor changes, and she is making progress.

One of the joys of parenting is seeing the progress. I remember when Madison was ten years old and we had just gotten her a flute. Those first few weeks were brutal for everyone as she tried to find the notes on her instrument. Over the years I’ve driven her to countless lessons, sat in the car waiting for hours, taken freelance jobs to pay for flutes and camps, and bought eight different moisturizers for her dry chin resulting from practicing so much. Only other parents of musicians can understand why I cried when she was named all-area in high school as a freshman flute player. Our family celebrated it with a fancy dinner out at Macaroni Grill.

Let’s face it: Parenting is all about practice too. We can’t always see the growth —how far we’ve come —but if we are consistent and if we implement the principles we’ve learned, we will see change. We get what we put into it.

I have a long list of parenting regrets —snapshots and memories of times when I failed as a mother, and mostly, failed my kids. One is particularly painful. It was the end of the year in middle school, and one of my children had earned a field trip for good grades and behavior. My kids are good, conscientious students so while this wasn’t a surprise, it was a treat to miss school and attend this fun event.

We were driving to school, and we were arguing. I don’t remember what the fight was about, but I do remember the tone my child had taken, complete with eye rolls and heavy sighs. And it made me furious! Terrell and I had been seeing more and more of this new “attitude,” and I wanted to stop it. I told my offending child that one more instance of back talk would earn immediate cancellation of the field trip. Middle school can be frightening for parents because kids are vying for independence, asserting their opinions more, and testing the waters. Hindsight would have shown me that my child’s behavior was normal and I needed to respond to the attitude I was detecting (and get to the root of it) instead of react to it.

So, yeah. There were a hundred consequences I could have suggested, but I threatened to take away something that would make the biggest impact. The disrespectful tone appeared again, and I pulled the field trip from under my child’s feet as soon as the attitude surfaced. Triumph.

My child begged and pleaded for three days. I wouldn’t budge. I was going to be consistent! Privately, I wavered and doubted my decision, and mostly, I regretted suggesting the consequence that would hurt the most.

I wounded my child. So much so that more than a year later, it came up in a family counseling session as one of the biggest hurts in this child’s life. I failed as a parent. It was a negative turning point in our personal relationship, and I regretted it.

But I learned it’s never too late to apologize. And that’s what I did. I confessed my wrongdoing to my child and asked for forgiveness. I would give anything to go back and change what transpired if I could. But I learned something valuable from it: “Winning” a fight with our kids only makes two losers. We have the opportunity to patiently walk with them through their pain and try to understand the root of their attitude or negative behavior. But we have to take it.

Parenting is all about practice. We get what we put into it.

Disclaimer: I want practical suggestions for parenting. I go to Google looking for them. I think if you’re reading this book, you might too. But I’m not a parenting expert —just ask the young people I parent. So please, take my suggestions and what works for us and discover what works for you. My kids aren’t perfect and they aren’t always grateful. We are learning as we go. No two families are the same. Different things work for different people.

Terrell and I are big advocates of counseling. We benefitted from it when our marriage hit a crisis a decade ago, and we knew it was a good option again when he transitioned from salesman to CEO of Mercy House. As we have been able to budget it, occasional sessions have played a big role in our parenting, too. Money is an issue and not everyone is in a position to afford that kind of professional help. But we prioritize it —not because we are in crisis, but because we love each other and want to invest time and energy to stay in a good place. One of the most impactful tools we’ve learned (when someone is upset or there’s an argument) is to ask the person we are disagreeing with, “What do you need from me right now?” Sometimes it’s the best way to get to the root of the problem. I have discovered over and over, my kids and my husband need something different from what I’m offering. Often they’re not asking for my opinion or for me to fix their problem; they want me to listen or they just need a hug.

SEVEN STEPS TO RAISING GRATEFUL KIDS

Here are seven areas where we can be consistent and work in practical ways to raise grateful kids instead of entitled ones:

1. We teach ownership.

On our way home from Kenya a couple of summers ago after serving at Mercy House, we had a layover in Amsterdam. We had a short amount of time to see the city with three jet-lagged children. But it was an adventure we all wanted to experience. As our strong-willed firstborn, Madison blossoms in leadership roles. She’s determined, thrives on challenges, and doesn’t take no for an answer. It’s a character strength that I’ve learned to appreciate. Before we left the States, Terrell dropped a book on her bed that he’d picked up for a dollar at a local thrift store: a guidebook to Amsterdam.

“You’re in charge of our two days in Amsterdam. There are maps in the book. Make a list of what we should see.” I looked at him like he was crazy.

“Trust me,” he whispered. Since I had a lot on my plate getting ready for our trip to Kenya, I did.

Madison, at fourteen, hit the ground running. She navigated us through the transportation web, figured out the most cost-effective way to see the city, picked restaurants I’ve since dreamed about, and was a most excellent guide. She was in her element because we let her take ownership. And not only did she surprise us, we had a wonderful, memorable trip.

The Amsterdam adventure wasn’t the first time we started letting our kids take ownership. Our children became a part of our family economy early on with chores. There are so many ways to involve kids from a very early age in running the household, from toddlers wiping the table to putting the spoons back in the drawer from the dishwasher.

I’ll be honest: I come from a long line of control freaks, and often I’d rather do the jobs at home myself because I like them done a certain way lest I end up redoing them. But I believe when I operate in this mode, I rob my family. I take away the opportunity to teach them. We haven’t always done things well in this area, and we’ve lacked consistency, but we continue to try to share the workload at home.

My kids each have four weekly household chores, and each of them helps prepare and clean up after dinner once a week. This is in addition to keeping their rooms clean and taking care of their own laundry. (We started teaching our kids to do their laundry when they were eight years old.) We try to be flexible with schedules and extracurricular events, but for the most part, we are consistent with this. In return for their work, we give them a salary.

Sometimes the lines of ownership get a little blurred in our house, which can be comical. When Madison was in junior high, she was scheduled to have oral surgery to remove several wisdom and permanent teeth, due to impacted baby teeth. She wanted Terrell to document the event on video in case she said anything really honest or funny. On the day of the surgery, after she had received the pre-op anesthetic shots, she did both. At one point in the video, she has drool trickling from the corner of her numbed mouth, with bloodstains on her shirt. As Terrell dabs her mouth, he says, “Oh, honey, you’re dripping blood all over your clothes.”

Madison looks down and smiles drunkenly. “It’s okay. This is Mom’s shirt.”

Oops. Borrowed somehow turned into ownership in this case. But thankfully it all came out in the wash.

Ultimately, I believe teaching our kids ownership and giving them opportunities to own things creates more responsible, grateful kids. And, in most cases, that requires money.

2. We stress the value of money.

Until our kids started earning money regularly, they generally got it twice a year: birthdays and Christmas from extended family and friends.

The rest of the time, if they wanted anything, they would ask us for money. Go figure.

On this journey of trying to raise grateful kids in an entitled world, we want our children to understand the difference between needs and wants, know how to save a buck, live frugally, and have the means to be generous when the opportunity presents itself. It’s tough in a culture that thrives on instant gratification, overspending, and debt.

In my part of the country, many newlyweds skip the apartment rental stage of life and buy a house together, filling its rooms with furniture and accessories from a Pottery Barn catalog. It’s not unusual for little girls to have biweekly pedicures. And don’t even get me started on hair highlights, fake nails, and hundred-dollar jeans for teens. I’m not saying these things are wrong in themselves, but I do think we’re entering dangerous territory when we buy what we can’t afford or too much of what we can afford. This easy-finance mentality is passed along to our children.

Even without allowances or iPhones or the “you can have whatever you want” parenting philosophy, we noticed our children were constantly asking for more stuff. I began to realize they didn’t understand the importance of a budget, the value of a dollar, or the crucial art of saving because we had never taught them.

After listening to a Focus on the Family podcast with guest speaker Mary Hunt, founder of Debt-Proof Living, talking about her book Raising Financially Confident Kids, I knew we needed to make some changes. Mary is a hard-core budgeteer and financial planner. We are neither, but at the beginning of the summer, we began what I will call a light version experiment of her suggestions.

Mary’s plan is somewhat different, but we based ours on her thoughts and then did what worked best for us. (You can find Mary’s age-appropriate plans regarding kids and money in chapters 14–16 of her book.[96])

At the beginning of every month, we give our children a lump sum of money based on their age. We stagger the amount of money we give our kids from the youngest to the oldest. (A lump sum sounds way more than it is, but I think you have to figure out what will work for your family and budget.) Mary Hunt suggests monitoring what you spend on each child for a few months so you’ll have a clear idea what the amount should be. It’s more than you think it will be. We opted not to strictly follow that suggestion; instead we allotted our kids what we felt was enough for each of them without impacting our monthly budget.

We don’t call the money we give our kids an allowance —it’s considered a salary that they are earning for the work they do in the house.

We have chores in our house. My kids check the chart to see who is helping with dinner, who is cleaning up, and who is responsible for not letting our pets die from starvation, and we all pitch in on household and yard duties. This is expected and nonnegotiable. We don’t call the money we give them an allowance —it’s considered a salary that they are earning for the work they do in the house.

Terrell and I pay for all of their needs. And our kids use their salaries to pay for their wants.

Defining what “needs” are with your kids is an important conversation (and oh, so fun, when you are trying to convince your daughter she doesn’t need every item on the hair aisle). At our house, items categorized as needs include a new pair of school shoes, new jeans if the old pair has worn out, haircuts, music lessons, etc. Needs are not the latest video game, toy, cute top at the mall, or newest gadget for my son’s archery equipment.

This has rocked everyone’s world —in a good way!

From watching one of my children spend every dime and then realize THAT WAS IT for the month to watching another save more than I thought possible, it’s been a journey of education in teaching our children how to handle money.

Here’s what I’ve learned from this experiment so far:

In Raising Financially Confident Kids, Hunt encourages the concept of giving 10 percent and saving 10 percent. Now that we’ve decided to incorporate the principles we established as a normal part of our home, we have added this concept.

3. We emphasize the value of hard work.

On the first day of summer in 1984, when Terrell was fourteen years old, his dad woke him up at seven o’clock to tell him that a load of sand had been delivered in the driveway and that by the time he got home from work, he expected all the low spots in the backyard to be filled. Oh, and a shovel was provided.

That’s how my husband was raised.

Of course, Terrell’s childhood wasn’t all work and no play. He rode his bike all over town and played baseball, so I know he had fun, too. Still, there was a lot of hard work. For me growing up, we cleaned the house every Saturday without fail and then we did yard work, which included scooping dog poop. We didn’t sleep until noon or play video games until the middle of the night while our mom fixed lunch and did all the laundry.

Last summer, we noticed a lot of grumbling when we asked our kids to help with the yard work or complete their chores, or even wake up before the entire morning was gone. Terrell and I talked about their attitudes and work ethic and decided to do something to get their attention. We know hard work not only teaches kids to be grateful for what you as a parent do all day long, it also creates a work ethic in them that will carry them into adulthood.

So yes, you guessed it, we had a load of sand delivered —and not just to make a point. Our kids knew about the uneven yard that held water. Sand was a good solution.

I wasn’t prepared for all the bickering and whining. I knew our kids wouldn’t love the idea, but oh my. Things got worse before they got better. Initially, my kids were very concerned about not outworking their siblings, so we devised a plan to make loading wheelbarrows, hauling sand, and spreading it as fair as possible. It was also a 100-degree day without any shade, so we accounted for the weather and had the kids work only an hour or two in the morning. With the first bleeding blister, I nearly caved. Whose ridiculous idea was this anyway?

Day after day, the kids worked, but they also argued and complained. At one point, I sat them down and said, “Yes, our yard needs this sand. Sure, we could have waited until we could pay someone to do it, but we’ve got fun stuff going on all summer —swimming and church camp and friends over. You will work together to complete this job without griping or I will have a second load delivered and we will do this all summer until you can learn to work as a team.”

That little pep talk got the job more than halfway completed in near harmony, but a week later, we still had some sand in our driveway, even after the kids had each logged in many hours. Terrell and I joined them, and we all worked together on a Saturday to complete it. Everyone agreed it felt good to accomplish the huge task. My kids now refer to it proudly as the time they “fixed the backyard.”

Here are some practical ways to teach kids how to work hard:

4. We teach responsibility and manage consequences.

Responsibility and consequences go hand in hand with the first two practical areas in this list. I think these are some of the hardest lessons to teach and let our kids learn. When Madison was in junior high, she caught up with me physically, meaning we could wear the same size in most things. She often asked to borrow sweaters and shoes and, well, everything. I had two simple rules: (1) Put it back where you got it when you’re done, and (2) take care of it as if it were yours. There were times when she wasn’t allowed to “shop” in my closet because she had broken one or the other of those rules.

One day, she borrowed a fabric headband and I told her to make sure she returned it at the end of the day because I was packing for a trip to Africa and headbands are my friends. When I didn’t see the headband back in its place and asked her about it, Madison said, “Oh, it must be in my backpack.” It wasn’t. “Oh, it must be at school.” Nope. It was gone. I understand that things can get lost accidentally, but it was the response that “It only cost ten dollars” that I couldn’t let pass.

Kids are going to lose and break things, make mistakes and need second chances. But if we don’t require something of them, they will keep making the same mistakes.

Madi worked hard to make ten dollars to replace the headband. And she’s never lost another one. It’s not a surprise that kids are going to lose and break things. They are going to make mistakes and need second chances. But if we don’t require something of them, they won’t learn the lesson and they will keep making the same mistakes.

There have been many occasions in this parenting journey when doling out consequences has been as painful for me as for my kids. As they have gotten older, they have earned more freedom and more responsibility. My teens are responsible for their laundry. I stopped nagging them about it, other than the occasional reminder that the washer and dryer are ready for their use. When they choose not to get their laundry done, they eventually run out of clothes to wear. We just keep quiet (this is very hard for me) because we know what’s coming. “Dad, can I borrow some socks?” “Mom, can I get a shirt out of your closet?” We say no, and that usually results in unhappy kids.

But this is about much more than dirty laundry; it’s about being responsible and following through with consequences. This exact scenario happened the other day, and we stood our ground. After Terrell and I shut our bedroom door, he said, “That went well.” We both knew it didn’t, but I understood what he meant. It was the right thing to do, even though it was really hard. We both believe the lightbulbs will turn on in our kids’ minds one day and this simple lesson will become more deeply rooted.

In the meantime, it’s hard watching our kids fail. But failure is often the best teacher. I’ve watched my teens ignore their piles of laundry, neglect their weekly chores, and basically give up easy money. When they reach a certain age and know what their responsibilities are, they don’t need my constant reminding, and they know that if their weekly jobs aren’t done by Sunday night, there isn’t any money for the week. And by Wednesday or Thursday when they want to get a smoothie or a new shirt at the store, they remember the forgotten chores.

One of my kids received a generous amount of birthday money from friends and relatives and ended up using it in lieu of earning a salary over the course of a couple of months. It was hard to watch one of our kids choose not to complete the assigned chores, but it was an important lesson because guess what? Eventually that child of mine ran out of birthday money and started doing chores again, realizing there wasn’t much left to show from the gifted money.

Kim is another one of our part-time Mercy House employees. She has raised four daughters and encourages me often by telling me that whatever phase or stage we are in is normal. (Advice to readers: You need an older or experienced mom in your life to regularly remind you of the same thing.) One day her daughter, who was a senior in high school at the time, texted Kim while she was working and asked her mom to bring her a school project that she had left at home. Kim replied, “No, I’m so sorry. But I reminded you last night while you were watching TV not to forget it.” I thought of this story when I faced a similar situation with Jon-Avery and it solidified my resolve to let him manage the consequence of forgetting something he needed.

I was so encouraged by the lesson Kim was letting her daughter learn that day. Yes, it’s hard for us not to jump in the car, rearrange our schedule, and bail our kids out. And sometimes we should. But when it becomes a habit or we want to see some responsibility in our kids, that’s the last thing we should do.

Every school year as we are financially able, we give our kids a back-to-school allowance. It’s always interesting to see how they spend their money. One year, one of my kids spent twice as much money as needed to buy a backpack that was in style. I knew that child wouldn’t have enough money left for shoes and jeans, but I didn’t nag. Sure enough, the funds ran out and the one with the fancy backpack had to live with the consequences. Another of our kids decided to keep using the same backpack purchased a couple of years earlier, in order to use the extra money to buy a second pair of new shoes. Letting our children develop responsibility and live with the consequences —good or bad —is a life lesson we need to give them.

5. We see the benefits of delayed gratification.

We’ve already mentioned our culture and its demand for instant gratification. Whatever we want, we want it right now. Our appetite for fast food has moved into every area of life, and we have the debt to prove it. As parents, we can delay gratification by making our kids wait for what they want. I love this definition of delayed gratification: It is “the ability to resist the temptation for an immediate reward and wait for a later reward.”[97]

The power of delayed gratification is best known from the Stanford Marshmallow Experiment, a study conducted by professor Walter Mischel at Stanford University. In this experiment, Mischel studied a group of four- to six-year-old children who were given a marshmallow and left in a room for fifteen minutes. These kids were given the choice to eat the marshmallow immediately or wait for fifteen minutes and be rewarded with a second marshmallow. Some waited, others didn’t. Researchers continued to study the development of the children and learned that those who were able to wait, or delay gratification, were better adjusted, more motivated, and scored better grades in high school.[98]

When my kids work hard, save their money, and reach their goal of being able to buy something they really want, not only do they appreciate it more, they learn something in the delay. The reward is much sweeter.

Remember when I mentioned in chapter 4 how both of my daughters loved American Girl dolls? When Madison was eight years old, she really wanted Molly, one of the historical American Girl dolls. It wasn’t our daughter’s birthday and Christmas had already passed, and the truth was that we didn’t have the money to get her what she wanted. I showed her secondhand Molly dolls on eBay for less than half the new price. Madison was determined. She started saving, and more important, she started working. Every day for weeks she asked for a job to do. We gave her a few, and then she approached her grandparents. She saved tooth fairy money, scrounged for quarters under the couch cushions, and did everything she could to get a few more coins toward her goal. After three months, she had what she needed. Other dolls have come and gone, now that Madison is old enough to drive, but Molly still sits on a shelf because the gratification of working for her isn’t something Madison will forget. It made the prize even more special.

6. We give our kids a larger worldview.

Perspective is one of the most important gifts we can give our kids (and ourselves). And service is one of the best ways to package it. Kids are like us —their perspective is based on what is in front of them. As parents, I think it’s our job to find ways to change how our children see the world by altering their view occasionally. If we see life through only one lens, we believe the misconception that everyone in the world has what we do, and our blessings start looking a lot like expectations. We can offer a new worldview in a variety of ways, but mostly it occurs through discomfort. What we know; where we live, work, attend school and church; what we eat —all these things are familiar and comfortable. It’s not necessarily perfect or what we want, but we feel safe in what we know.

If we see life through only one lens, we believe the misconception that everyone in the world has what we do, and our blessings start looking a lot like expectations.

When I’m able to offer my kids a change in circumstances, I am always amazed at their reaction to being uncomfortable, touched by their compassion, and inspired by their motivation.

A year ago, early on a Saturday morning, we loaded up the car and drove an hour to a government housing complex. Twenty-two apartment buildings line either side of a long street, home to more than fifty thousand refugees relocated to our city.

A few of my friends, along with our husbands and kids, had joined The Refugee Project to help clean up the “clubhouse,” where we help with a crocheting and knitting class for the refugee women. It was actually a vacant, musty three-bedroom apartment filled with an assortment of books, broken chairs, and dirty tables that needed a good scrubbing and fresh paint.

There was plenty of work to be done on this workday. We sorted and scrubbed and swept. We filled holes in the walls and stocked the shelves with books. We taped and painted, mopped, and dragged piles of trash bags to the dumpster.

Our children worked together to wrap more than six hundred crocheted bracelets onto cards that were going into the next Fair Trade Friday membership box. The cards had the word Thrive typed across them. That’s the hope of The Refugee Project —that these displaced women will find a place in Christ and thrive.

I looked around the apartment and smiled at my family. Terrell, who hates to paint (at least that’s what he tells me every time I ask), was completing a masterful job painting a wall. My son was wrapping bracelets, sitting next to my youngest, who was winding yarn into balls. My teen was in the bathroom creating face-paint designs on little children, with a long line of customers waiting their turns.

I stood in the center of that room and thought, My children haven’t complained once. They haven’t asked for anything. They didn’t think of themselves while we worked hour after hour. They found a need and filled it. My next thought hit me so hard I had to blink back tears: Our family is at its best —our absolute best —when we are doing something for someone else.

When our hands are busy serving others, we aren’t thinking about what we don’t have. Instead, we are thankful for what we do have. We drove an hour away from our house to step into a different culture, and it broadened our worldview.

When you love others, you complete what the law has been after all along. The law code —don’t . . . always be wanting what you don’t have, and any other “don’t” you can think of —finally adds up to this: Love other people as well as you do yourself. You can’t go wrong when you love others. When you add up everything in the law code, the sum total is love.

ROMANS 13:8-10, MSG (italics in original)

It was after four in the afternoon when we piled back into the car and headed home. I was enjoying the comfortable quietness, realizing that the air was thick with satisfaction.

I turned back toward the kids. “Do you remember the sixteen-year-old refugee girl who helped us wrap bracelets?” They all nodded.

“She asked me if she could come to our class and learn to crochet like her sisters and mom and grandmother,” I said. “Because she also wants to earn money.”

“Doesn’t she go to school?” Madison asked. I explained that she did, but she wanted the money for something special. “She plays the cello and is very talented. She earned a scholarship for a music school but still needs more money to make her dream a reality.”

The car was quiet again, and I thought maybe my kids were thinking about how much they love music. Or maybe they were thinking about the instruments they own and love or the opportunity they have to take lessons. Or maybe they were wondering how to help a girl their age do the same.

“Mom,” my twelve-year-old son broke the silence. “I loved today.”

My heart nearly burst.

I think we were all created to ask the question, What can I do that matters? My job as a parent is to get my kids to ask it because when they do, they might just see the big world (and others) for the first time.

7. We strive to instill faithfulness.

We started off this chapter talking about consistency. Putting into practice what we want to be good at, what we believe in, who we want our families to be comes down to one word: faithfulness. I think this is almost a foreign concept in our culture —the tenacity to continue. The word faithfulness is defined with other words like promise, vow, belief, duty, trust, reliability, loyalty.

Today giving up is easy. If we don’t like something, it’s okay; we can always quit, especially if it gets hard or things don’t go our way. At the sixth grade band concert, directors handed out awards to kids who had either performed exceptionally or met standards of excellence. Jon-Avery sat next to me, and I could tell he wanted his name to be called for percussion. He held his breath as the director got to his section and sighed when someone else was called. He mumbled something about it not being fair and about wanting to quit.

I leaned over and asked, “Why did that boy win?” Jon-Avery told me all the things his friend did right —from his practice ethic to achievement to behavior. We both knew that an area Jon-Avery needed to work on was talking too much. When he was done, I asked, “Do you do all those things?” He thought about it for a minute and said, “No, but I will.”

I could tell this was important to him, and he was challenged to do better. By that time the following year, there was a marked difference in Jon-Avery’s maturity, and before the second semester, he was moved to the top band and was one of only two seventh graders to make the all-district band.

Sometimes our kids want to quit because what they are doing isn’t a good fit. Childhood is the perfect time to try out a lot of things. But many times, our kids quit because it’s hard, and they lose out on the opportunity to learn. Our kids watched their dad go to a job every day for twelve years —one that provided for our family, one that Terrell didn’t enjoy, one that was hard. This kind of faithfulness is difficult. Persevering when things aren’t easy is often when we find our greatest reward.

I know on this parenting journey, there have been days when I’ve wanted to quit. The new phase was too uncertain, the fight too big, the hurt my child was experiencing too painful. On one particularly hard parenting day while writing this book, I told my husband, “Writing a book on parenting during a hard parenting day feels like writing a book on marriage while you’re separated.” Those days, I cried more than I wrote. But then I was reminded again that we were trying our best to first love God and then demonstrate His love to our kids and, as a family, to others around us.

You are where you are for a reason. Be faithful. You are living an example to your kids.

I don’t know where you are right now. You might be in any country in the world. You might be in the middle of your house, in the middle of suburbia folding laundry. You might be reading this on your shift break at your job in the hospital on the second floor. You might be standing in line at the pharmacy, waiting on medicine for your mother who is very sick. You might be in the lowest parenting season of your life or the best. I don’t know. But it matters. Because you are where you are for a reason. Be faithful. You are living an example to your kids. You are showing them that when the going gets hard, you dig in your heels and you are faithful.

Because maybe there’s someone in your world, at your job, in your neighborhood, on your path who needs to know that you are where you are because you can help that person where he or she is. Someone is waiting for you to share your money, your time, and your life.

GOING AGAINST THE FLOW

Parents

Toddlers/Preschoolers

Elementary

Tweens/Teens