Still farther down the corridor, we come to a fourth door. Behind it we hear the enchanting strains of Beethoven’s “Fuer Elise.” A welcoming sun pours lazy gold streams across a hardwood floor. The walls are lined with large spools filled with threads of every color and texture. In the center of the room stands a Swedish four-harness loom.
The loom is threaded and ready for use. There are many predetermined factors—the color, the strength of the warp threads, the texture, and the basic pattern. The Master Weaver has left a set of instructions. If I follow them, having a specific goal, and take the time necessary to weave the threads with patience and accuracy, I can create a nearly flawless cloth. I could, however, choose to weave without pattern or purpose, simply depressing pedals at random in an undisciplined fashion, and hope for some sort of salvageable piece.
Producing a functional weaving is much like rearing a child—it takes the discipline of following a plan and having a purpose. Discipline is a fiber woven into everything we do. Without it our lives would be unbearable. Children need moms who know the importance of discipline in adults as well as in children. God delivers into our hands a baby, not yet finished, needing certain threads woven into his or her life in order to become complete.
A Gift from God
A child is often referred to as a “gift from God.” When a mother first holds her tiny infant, there is no doubt her baby was heaven-sent. I, for one, was filled with a sense of awe that God would entrust such a precious life into my hands.
But gifts are ours to keep—children are not. They are really on loan, and one day God comes to collect. I think perhaps the gift is in being given the opportunity to take part in the process of weaving the child into an adult. As parents, we are granted the first option. We choose the first threads. Someday others, whether you want them to or not, will come in to insert threads of immorality, greed, arrogance, and disobedience, just to name a few.
We must then weave quickly and with wisdom. We will want to weave in an abundant supply of threads called love, joy, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. The child’s weave should be thick and durable so that when others come with teachings of wickedness, our child will be able to stand strong and well-disciplined against them.
Discipline, the Necessary Thread
The Master Weaver designed a plan in which discipline of His people plays an intricate part. He has woven into all of us a desire for order. He is disciplined and well-ordered and has created us in His image. Consequently when we live unorganized, hectic, and undisciplined lives, we become restless and basically unhappy.
God uses discipline as a way of keeping us on the right track. In Proverbs 22:15 (KJV) we read, “Foolishness is bound in the heart of a child; but the rod of correction shall drive it far from him.” Discipline says, “I love you and I care about how you grow.” In his book Dare to Discipline, James Dobson says:
Although love is essential to human life, parental responsibility extends far beyond it… . Love in the absence of instruction will not produce a child with self-discipline, self-control, and respect for his fellow man. Affection and warmth underlie all mental and physical health, yet they do not eliminate the need for careful training and guidance.[1]
Discipline can be a scary thing for many moms, and it’s easy to see why. Nearly everyone you talk to has a different opinion. I have an opinion as well. While I don’t claim to have all the answers, I have, over the years, developed some commonsense “rules” you may find helpful:
Defining Discipline
One of the problems many of us have in the area of discipline is seeing discipline as a necessary evil—something we’d rather not deal with. Consequently, children today are often undisciplined and running scared. A friend told me about a six-year-old child who kept hitting her while she and the child’s mother were talking. The mother totally ignored the child’s actions. “He was an obnoxious brat,” my friend said. “I felt like I should have done something. But it wasn’t really the kid’s fault. His mom obviously doesn’t know a thing about discipline.”
Children need a mother who loves them enough to discipline them wisely. How do we do that? Perhaps one of the first keys to effective discipline is understanding what it actually means. Many tend to use the words discipline and punishment synonymously. Although chastisement, correction, punishment, and penalize are all captured within its meaning, the word has far deeper implications. To discipline also means to guide, instruct, train, prepare, indoctrinate, develop, moderate, restrain, and correct, to name a few. It implies orderliness, habit, regimen, and adherence to certain rules, as opposed to the chaos, confusion, and disorderliness of the undisciplined.
Effective discipline incorporates forms of punishment as well as methods for teaching and guiding a child toward an orderly and self-disciplined way of life. Discipline is something we do for our children, not something we do to them. In a devotional I was reading, I came across these words by Hannah Whitall Smith:
If love sees those it loves going wrong, it must, because it is love, do what it can to save them. Any supposed love that would fail to do this is really selfishness.
No matter what a child’s age, effective discipline and love are essential to their physical, emotional, and spiritual well-being. One of the most important parts of discipline is the setting of boundaries.
Even Children Understand the Need for Discipline
Children who control their homes because parents are afraid to or refuse to discipline are miserable tyrants. Though most kids won’t admit it, they want and need discipline. When he was about nine years old, my son, David, came to me one day after school with an unusual request. “Mom, I need to study my math, but I can’t. Would you make me?”
As part of my research for this book I questioned a number of children about what they needed most in a mom. Here are just two of the responses:
“I need spankings,” three-year-old Shelly said in a no-nonsense tone.
“I need my mom to keep me from doing bad things that might hurt me,” said Michael, age eight.
I was surprised at how many of the children I questioned spoke of the need for discipline. Even though they may be the first to yell foul when you follow through, they seem to sense that setting boundaries is all part of taking good care of them.
Setting Boundaries
Gregory Bodenhamer says in his book, Back in Control, “Children aren’t born wanting to obey—or disobey—the rules set down by parents, schools, or society. And one of the greatest stumbling blocks in getting children to behave properly is the human desire to do as one pleases.”[2]
He goes on to give us what he calls Bodenhamer’s Law. “Human beings prefer doing things in their own way, in their own time, and given an option, will sometimes do as they please.”
We discipline wisely by establishing and enforcing fair and realistic boundaries. In a book called Suffer the Children, author Janet Pais writes:
If children encounter nothing firm in their human environment, they will be confused, anxious, lacking boundaries, lacking a sense of reality. They will not be able to develop as solid, real, sane human beings.[3]
Children need to feel safe and secure, yet have ample space to grow and develop, to experiment and explore the world in which they live. Boundaries tell a child what is acceptable and what is not. Few children today have firm boundaries, and their lives are often full of inconsistencies. It’s up to us to provide a structured environment and constant routine whenever possible.
There is more to setting boundaries, however, than drawing a line and saying the child can’t cross it. Setting limits entails much more than telling your child “no.” While we teach children to respect the boundaries we establish, we also teach them to develop and respect their own.
If this sounds complicated, I don’t mean it to be. We can accomplish this business of establishing boundaries for ourselves and one another by simply invoking two timeless principles:
We bring the principles home by always asking of ourselves and of our children, “Would God want me to do this?” and “Would I want someone to do this to me?” At this point I’d like to recommend a book called What Would Jesus Do? edited by Helen Haidle (see the suggested reading list) to help your children with choices. One of the most important aspects of any relationship is knowing where to draw the line.
A Firm Grip and a Flexible Heart
As you develop effective discipline methods, you’ll want to remember to keep a firm grip and a flexible heart. Avoid rigidity. Rigor mortis is something that happens to muscles when one has died. It should not happen to our hearts and brains—especially while we’re alive.
All too often, in an effort to protect our children or maintain control over them, we may tighten our grip, which often has the opposite effect. Holding too tight can cause resistance. Did I say resistance? Overcontrolled kids, especially if they tend to be defiant, can be like mules—they plant their feet and refuse to budge. Or they run in the opposite direction.
To avoid a conflict of wills consider the following suggestions:
As you develop your plan for effective discipline, you’ll want to decide which behaviors to allow or prohibit. Choose your battles wisely and make certain you can follow through on the limits you set. Be assertive, confident, and consistent. Try not to yell. At a parenting workshop I went to, the speaker wisely stated, “Trying to train children by yelling at them is like trying to drive your car by blowing the horn.”
I Try to Be Consistent, But …
Most books on child rearing will warn you about the perils of being inconsistent. Some have even stressed that if you don’t do anything else, be consistent.
I regret that within my fabric lie a few threads of inconsistency. In fact, there are certain times that I am about as inconsistent as the weather.
For example, one Sunday my son, David (I think he was about ten at the time), had gone to his friend Ryan’s house for the afternoon. I called Ryan’s home to tell David to come home (we had visitors from out of town). He wasn’t there and Ryan’s mother didn’t know where the boys had gone. (Now I ask you, what kind of mom wouldn’t know where her children were? My kind of mom, that’s who.)
Naturally, I was upset. David had promised to call if he was going elsewhere. I fretted all day, but no call. Finally, he crashed through the door—on time, his usual exuberant self—and gave me a cheery “Hi, Mom!”
I lit into him. “Hi! You’ve had me worried sick all afternoon wondering if someone kidnapped you and all you have to say for yourself is ‘Hi, Mom’?”
“Oh … I forgot. We were playing space wars and—”
“I don’t care what you were playing,” I interrupted. “You know the rules. You’re to call me and let me know where you are. You’ve abused your privileges, and I’m going to have to ground you for a week.”
After a brief argument, David accepted his punishment. Later in the week, however, he was invited to go roller skating. When I reminded him that he was grounded another two days, I got the full treatment. Two large hazel eyes peered up at me. It was a look of innocence, apology, sadness, and sincerity all rolled into one. He had been practicing it since he learned how to crawl. It was the one look that he knew pierced his mother to the soul.
“Oh, please let me go, Mom. I’ve learned my lesson already. I promise I’ll remember to call you next time. Honest. But please, you gotta let me go skating.”
“No,” I said, determined to stand firm this time.
“But, Mom,” the gentle plea continued. “All my friends will be there. Look, I’ll even do the dishes tonight if you let me go. It isn’t even my turn.”
I was weakening. My legs and back were cramping from premenstrual tension. My head hurt and I was not looking forward to standing in the kitchen. (Didn’t I tell you this kid knew my weaknesses?) I heard myself saying “Well, I don’t think …”
I’d wavered, and the kid moved in with all the finesse of a foreign diplomat. Within minutes he had me lying on the couch with one pillow propped behind my head and one under my legs. I listened contentedly to the tinkling sound of dishes being washed by someone other than me and relaxed with my warm cup of peppermint tea.
Maybe I shouldn’t have given in, but I rationalized that he had been grounded for five days. And, after all, he had apologized, and said he’d learned his lesson. Besides … he was really a nice boy. And nowhere in the Bible did it say a boy should call his mother when he changed houses. True, he needed to learn obedience, but … everyone is entitled to one mistake. So I closed my eyes and decided that next time, I’d be firmer.
There’s an inconsistency within most mothers that is both emotional and physical. There are times I can be the perfect disciplinarian. I can handle ten crises in a day and not be thwarted. Other times I am the crisis. I’ve never met anyone who has managed to be continually consistent. Have you?
Aside from the problem of variables in our bodies, there is the problem of differences between spouses. My husband and I agreed completely on what our children needed to learn in order to become productive, responsible adults. We just didn’t always see eye-to-eye on the method. I am a softie. I believe in discipline and logical consequences, but unfortunately, I have a lenient streak. My husband, on the other hand, is a sterner disciplinarian.
As long as we discussed our differences and tried to balance each other out, we were fine. But it didn’t always happen. There were times when, no matter how hard we tried, we failed.
Finally, what if, in your desire to discipline your child appropriately, you miss the mark? Because of anger, fear, or frustration your punishment is severe. When you’ve had a chance to think it over, you realize you overreacted. Does pride and a feeling that you must be consistent keep you from going to the child and admitting you were too harsh and have decided to ease up?
Some of us might admit we made a mistake. Some might stand their ground. Who is right … who is wrong? It doesn’t really matter. The point is, no matter how hard we try, there will be periods of inconsistency for all of us.
So what do we do? Bury ourselves in guilt because we couldn’t maintain the consistency set forth by the experts? I did that for a while. But fortunately, I’ve learned not to make unnecessary guilt trips anymore. I’ll be sharing the secrets of escaping the guilt factory in the next chapter, but meanwhile here are a few more observations I’ve made about discipline.
When weaving a fabric, fixing mistakes is not so difficult, provided you catch the error early on and rework it. If, however, you look back on your work and see a major flaw near the beginning, you will have a long and tedious job correcting the mistake.
When disciplining children and setting boundaries we should make our expectations reasonable. While we certainly want to encourage high standards and teach children to strive for excellence, we don’t want to apply the kind of pressure that can lead a child to despair.
The Problem with Perfection
Sometimes Mom and Dad attempt to discipline their children into a state of perfection. This creates large numbers of adults and kids who stagger under the burden of low self-esteem. At the base of their relentless struggles lies a parent who could never be satisfied.
Nancy, a seventeen-year-old, told me, “I feel so stupid. I’m doing the best I can, but I’m never good enough. My mom is always saying, ‘That’s nice, dear, but …’ Then she tells me how to do it better. Why can’t she ever just be happy with the way I am?”
In a small bedroom that was once her bright young daughter’s, a mother sits in silence. She holds a letter now wrinkled and faded from a year’s worth of tears. Her daughter had been a brilliant student, class president. But a year ago they’d found her dead, an empty bottle of pills on the nightstand. She’d left a note. “Dear Mom and Dad. I was dropped from Honor Society today. I just couldn’t face you. I’m sorry, Kim.”
The rocking chair creaks in a gentle rhythm with Mama’s soft lament. “If only I had told her the grades didn’t matter. If only I’d said, ‘I love you for who you are, not for what you do.’”
God does not expect perfection in us any more than we can expect perfection in our children. In her book What Is a Family? Edith Schaeffer writes,
When people insist on perfection or nothing, they get nothing…. The waste of what could be, by demanding what cannot be, is something we all have lived through in certain periods of our lives, but which we need to put behind us with resolve.[4]
It’s a dramatic illustration, I know. And the last thing I want to do is send you on another guilt trip. It’s just that I’ve seen what discipline that demands perfection can do. As we discipline and guide our children onto the right paths, let’s be certain they know beyond a doubt that our love isn’t based on performance.
While disciplining children is a serious business, let’s take care that we don’t lose our perspective on the goal, which is not perfection but self-control, high self-esteem, and obedience to God.
Logical Consequences
One of the best methods for teaching discipline is to allow for logical consequences. There are logical consequences for every wrongdoing. We as parents can carry them through or we can sidestep them. I’d like to illustrate with a short story.
It seems this mother—we’ll call her Betty—decided to clean her son Jason’s room the day after Halloween. (He was a neat kid and she never had to clean his room. However, this day she decided it needed cleaning.)
Betty finally found Jason’s Halloween treats and rummaged through them “to make sure there was no danger lurking,” she told herself, even though she’d made a thorough inspection the night before. Several of the caramels peered at her seductively through their clear cellophane wrappers, but she resisted.
Then she saw them—eight miniature, unwrapped Snickers bars stretched lazily across the windowsill. She felt herself give in to temptation.
“He won’t miss just one,” Betty said in a muffled voice as she chewed one chocolate, nutty caramel delight.
By the end of the day, she’d eaten them all.
Jason came home from school and promptly blamed his three-year-old brother Sam for eating his candy.
A guilty but valiant Betty stepped in to take the blame. “I ate them, Jase.”
Jason’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “But, Mom, you’re on Weight Watchers.”
“I’m really sorry, son. I know I shouldn’t have … but they were just sitting there begging me to eat them. I couldn’t say no.”
“Oh, well. That’s okay.” Jason shrugged his shoulders and turned away. “I wasn’t going to eat them anyway. Those are the ones Scooter [their dog] licked.”
Logical consequences are for everyone. Don’t be afraid to let your children suffer a few. Adults have to.
The Meanest Mother in the World
One of the things you’ll find as you involve yourself in the discipline of a child is that you’ll undoubtedly be referred to as a “mean mother.”
This delightful letter appeared several years ago in an Ann Landers column:
I had the meanest mother in the world. While other kids had candy for breakfast, I had to eat cereal, eggs and toast. While other kids had Cokes and candy for lunch, I had a sandwich. As you can guess, my dinner was different from other kids’ dinners too.
My mother insisted on knowing where we were at all times. You’d think we were on a chain gang or something. She had to know who our friends were and what we were doing.
I am ashamed to admit it, but she actually had the nerve to break the child labor law. She made us work. We had to wash dishes, make the beds and learn how to cook.
That woman must have stayed awake nights thinking up things for us kids to do. And she always insisted that we tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.
By the time we were teenagers, our life became even more unbearable. None of this tooting the car horn for us to come running; she embarrassed us to no end by insisting that the boys come to the door to get us.
I forgot to mention that most of our friends were allowed to date at the mature ages of twelve and thirteen, but our old-fashioned mother refused to let us date until we were fifteen. She really raised a bunch of squares. None of us was ever arrested for shoplifting or busted for dope. And who do we have to thank for this? You’re right, our mean mother.
I’m trying to raise my children to stand a little straighter and taller, and I am secretly tickled to pieces when my children call me mean. I thank God for giving me the meanest mother in the world. Our country doesn’t need a good five-cent cigar. It needs more mean mothers like mine.
While being a mean mother won’t necessarily guarantee that our kids will never get into trouble, it is a safeguard we would do well to incorporate into our mothering.
It does warm a mother’s heart when her children rise up and call her mean.
Discipline is often a difficult task. What happens when the cookie jar is empty and no one confesses? Who gets disciplined? It’s time for a little detective work, and who’s better qualified than a mom? She has the ultimate weapon for solving mysteries—intuition.
A Mother Knows
As an author, I sometimes find I’ve written a word, phrase, or idea that just doesn’t seem right. I get a vague feeling something is wrong. I can stop and fix that part of my manuscript immediately or leave it alone and hope it was just my mind playing tricks on me. Invariably, however, if I don’t take care of it, the editor or one of my readers will point out the problem.
What I encounter in my writing goes for kids, too. Use your intuition when it comes to rearing your children.
Marge, a friend from out of state, told me this story: “My daughter, Tracy, brought home a friend one day. I knew the minute I met this kid there’d be trouble. But I didn’t want to embarrass my daughter or her friend. After all, what if I was wrong? The girl, Cindy, was perfectly behaved, polite, and I finally decided I’d made a mistake in my first impression.
“I hadn’t,” Marge went on to say. “Cindy and Tracy were picked up for shoplifting a week later. Tracy was in tears. She told me she’d had a feeling about Cindy but shrugged it aside because the girl was fun to be around. Some fun!”
Marge and her daughter both learned to use their intuition.
When you get that nagging feeling that something is wrong, act on it. Otherwise, you’ll get caught and have to go back and fix the damage. Of course, when it comes to your children’s friends and what your kids do away from home, you may not be able to interfere. But you can sniff out trouble and raise the warning flag. Sometimes when you talk to your children about your concerns, they will be able to make the right decision on their own. Other times, they may have to learn from experience.
My kids have been shocked to find out just how much Mom knew about what mischief they’d been up to. Mothers seem to have a built-in radar to help them:
A kid needs a mom who acknowledges and uses her intuition.
A Flaw in the Masterpiece
As we work to weave in discipline, there is one aspect we must deal with—uncertainty. No matter how careful we are, flaws will creep into the weaving. We will look back and see open, vulnerable areas. Teachers, peers, television, and others come in and out of the child’s life, adding threads we might not have chosen. Even we at times weave in inappropriate or discolored strings. We may look back to find a flaw that has caused a weakness in character.
Mothering is an awesome responsibility. I am so grateful I have a God who understands that I cannot in my own strength create a perfectly woven masterpiece. I’m thankful He can mend the torn and frayed edges. I’m also glad He said things like, “My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness …” (2 Cor. 12:9 KJV).
As mothers, most of us do the best we can in weaving threads of discipline into our children. But there is a certain gamble. In rearing children, even if we feel we’ve done everything right, there is no guarantee that someone won’t come along and undo the threads we’ve woven. Or, we may look back and feel we did nearly everything wrong, but somehow our kids made it through. Sometimes we lose. Sometimes we win.
The secret to weaving in the threads of discipline lies in doing the best we can and trusting God to fill in the gaps.