Take Heart

I’ve experienced a couple of significant transitions this year.

First, both my daughters graduated from our homeschool. When we’d decided that they’d graduate together, I knew I’d be in for a systemic shock when it happened. After all, I’d instantly lose an important “job” I’d officially held since 2007, and even my mothering role would change once the girls were recognized as bona fide adults. I’d purposed over the years to guard against making the title of “homeschool mom” the core of my identity. But it would also be delusional to believe that transitioning from that role would be seamless. Anyone who pours her heart and soul into a big “project” for almost 20 years is bound to experience loss when it wraps.

And then my younger daughter eloped with the love her life – less than a week after she’d turned 18! Thankfully, my husband and I love our new son-in-law. In fact, we’d fully anticipated an eventual wedding, and I’d embraced the idea that my transition from homeschool mom would include a stint as wedding planner and mother of the bride. Instead, lockdown-related restrictions scared the young couple, leading them to figure out how to marry in a pandemic. They live only a few miles from us, and I literally see her almost every day. But having one of my baby girls officially leave the nest has, indeed, been quite a transition.

The pandemic wreaked havoc with my older daughter’s plans, causing her to take an unplanned gap year. So, she’s still home. But, as I anticipated, parenting an adult child – even one who is very respectful and responsible and a lot like me – is a brand-new life experience.

And I’m a creature of habit. In fact, my husband’s very accurate nickname for is me “Rou-Tina,” which makes change – even happy developments like gaining a new family member and successfully launching my children into adult life – harder on me than it might be for others. But I’ve decided not to beat myself up over it. 

Change is obviously inevitable; you may have experienced some big transitions in your life this year, too. And we must guard against wallowing in the past, wishing everything would stay the same when we know full-well it can’t. But we have to give ourselves grace.

For one thing, loathing negative change, such as the death of a loved one, isn’t wrong. And being nostalgic because time marched on more quickly than we’d prefer is natural. It’s also normal – because of how our culture treats the Christmas season – to experience such feelings more deeply at this time of year. If you’re feeling off-kilter right now due to transitions you’ve experienced over the past several months, welcome to the human race!

We must, of course, keep walking through valleys – armed with the Word of God and the encouragement of fellow believers – so we don’t get stuck. But if you’re in a change-initiated valley now, take heart. To paraphrase 1 Corinthians 10.13, nothing “has seized you except what is common to man. But God is faithful; He will not let [your transitions be more than] you can bear. …He will provide…so that you can stand up [through them].”

CK

Have Your Cake and Eat It Too

I wrote last time about how it’s our job as parents to provide clear instruction – delivered calmly and methodically with an appropriate amount of practice and repetition – as we help our children to learn. This applies equally as much to academic content and what we might call life skills. Kids and teens need direct instruction and modeling.

They also need us to pay close attention to the processes in which they’re engaged as they learn, not just the final products. Let me once again return to writing to illustrate my point.

Too often with written composition, a student is given an assignment: “Write about xyz.” He’s generally given a few basic parameters – i.e., how long the essay should be, its due date – but rarely anything substantive, such as the piece’s intended audience or its purpose. And talking about the actual writing process - let alone walking a young person through it – is rarer still. Thus, all a kid knows is that he’s supposed to turn in three paragraphs or five pages about xyz in two weeks – oh, and to make sure it’s typed and double-spaced with one-inch margins. He has no clue about how to begin and then work his way through the several steps of a logical process to produce truly good writing. Instead, he guesses at how to throw together a product, then holds his breath until his classroom teacher or homeschool mom gives the paper back with a grade scrawled on top, often without any other feedback. And he deems himself to be “good” or “bad” writer based solely on those letter-grades.

But helping young people learn to communicate clearly in writing is too important a skill to treat so haphazardly. If we want good products, we must spend time working through the process together with a child or teen. We must shift our perspective as well – choose to see our child as a learner rather than an assembly line worker – so the process becomes more important to us than the grade on the final product. Of course, if we do that, the product will be better too. But our emphasis must be on helping with the process.

Take some time to replace writing with any other learning task we expect of any of our kids – anything from mastering algebra or spelling to cutting the grass or cleaning the cat boxes. If we focus on the product, we’ll see success based on a natural gift or a fluke some of the time – but failure and frustration most of the time. If we emphasize the process, though, we get to have our cake (a good product) and to eat it (spending meaningful time positively coaching our kids in something important) too.

CK

Photo Credit: Mallory Matson

Don the Mantle

“Write about your summer vacation.”

“Write a book report.”

“Write an essay about the Battle of the Bulge.”

We’ve surely all seen directions like this – throughout our own childhoods, and also in the homeschool curricula we’ve purchased for our kids or in assignments sent home by our children’s teachers. Most of the time these directives come without further instruction. A child or teen is simply supposed to “know” how to write a paper appropriate to the task without actually having been explicitly taught how to do so. And their first attempts are graded (judged) as final products without an acknowledgement that the production of solid writing is actually a process involving multiple steps. The few who have a natural propensity toward written composition figure it out and are labeled “good writers.” Everyone else feels hopelessly lost, believing they “should” know what to do and beating themselves up because they don’t. Is it any wonder that most kids and adults say they “hate writing?”

The same is true for other learning tasks, academic or otherwise.

Do you tell your child to clean his room, only to be baffled an hour later when a few things have been shuffled around but it basically looks the same? Have you assigned your tween the chore of doing the dishes but found yourself frustrated later at spotty glasses and bits of food still stuck to the plates? Have you sent your teen off to “study for the test,” and then been dumbfounded when she gets a D on it anyway?

There are times, to be sure, when kids are simply lazy or disobedient. But before we accuse them of that, I think we owe it to them to consider whether or not we’ve actually taught them – step-by-step – how to appropriately complete a particular task. “Good writing” doesn’t just fall from the sky; we must invest the time necessary to carefully instruct young people in the writing process – and then let the process play out from beginning to final draft. We must clean a child’s room with him several times, modeling and talking through what we expect and why. We must demonstrate with grace – more than once – how to best load the dishwasher in order to achieve the desired results. We should devote time to helping a teen study, explaining, experimenting with, and practicing different methods of review that work for various subject areas or with her particular learning style.

If we can honestly say we have provided clear instruction – delivered calmly and methodically with an appropriate amount of practice and repetition – and a child still repeatedly messes up, there might be something else going on. Until then, though, it’s our job as parents to don the mantle of teacher/trainer, not disciplinarian or judge.

CK

Photo Credit: Openclipart

Do Your Children Know You Believe In Them?

A little over two months ago, our younger daughter came home to announce that she and her beau – who was with her – had eloped earlier that afternoon. We love the young man who is now our son-in-law and had fully supported an eventual marriage. But this was stunning news, made all the more surprising because she had turned 18 less than a week prior to the elopement.

Whether or not my husband and I – or our older daughter – agreed with the timing of the marriage or the means in which it was carried out, we had a choice to make. We could allow our shock to morph into anger and hard-heartedness, or we could work through our astonishment toward acceptance.

Though we each took a different route to get there, we all chose the latter. In my opinion, this was the right landing place, for at least three reasons. First, our daughter and son-in-law’s only possible sin in the matter was a sin of omission – i.e., keeping the elopement plans a secret. In reality, though, I’m not sure that was sin; it may simply have been a decision with which we didn’t necessarily agree. Second, Christ’s love calls us to reconciliation and relationship, particularly where there’s repentance. And both of them were extremely remorseful once they realized how sad we were at being left out of the decision. Third, I’m a Momma Bear; thus, for my part at least, there’s nothing my kids could do that would ever cause me to sever relationship with them.

Ultimately, I didn’t want my daughter and son-in-law to feel insecure around me. I wanted to communicate to them that I believe in them and in their ability to grow a solid, God-centered marriage that will stand the test of time, even if I wasn’t expecting it to start quite as soon as it did.

I’ve said that to them many times over the past nine weeks and will continue to find ways to do so going forward. We also chose to demonstrate our belief in them by hosting a post-elopement reception, which gave us a chance to acknowledge them publicly – in front of friends and family – as a legitimate married couple.

Whatever the particulars in each family, every parent will need to find ways with every child – many times throughout their lives – to say and demonstrate that we believe in them – and in their ability to stay or get back on a healthy path in life. They want this from us. In fact, they need it. So think on it; is there something you must say or do today to show one of your children that you believe in him or her?

CK

Will You?

As I write, our nation is consumed by COVID-19. It’s the only topic substantively addressed in the media, and related posts of all sorts – from data to rants to irreverent memes – abound on Facebook and Twitter. As testing increases, many results come back negative, some positive. Of those who contract coronavirus, some have no symptoms, many feel horrible for a time but recover in rather short order, and some become seriously ill and even die.

In particular hot-spots, medical personnel are stretched to their limits, and the governors of many states have enacted executive orders limiting freedom of movement to greater or lesser degrees. Most institutional schools are closed, leaving parents to figure out homebound learning on the fly. Workers who can do their jobs via virtual means have been sent home for the duration, computers in hand, but hundreds of thousands of others have been furloughed or laid off, spiking unemployment claims and jeopardizing their financial security. Some who’ve been deemed “essential” and must continue working worry that their health and that of their families may be at risk. Small businesses struggle within narrow profit margins to stay afloat, the stock market has tanked, and Congress recently passed a multi-trillion dollar “rescue” plan. People are either petrified or livid, sometimes both.

Whatever particular emotion any of us may be feeling at any given moment, it’s safe to say that our stress is through the roof. And that stress is undoubtedly putting strain on relationships – between friends and among extended family members, perhaps even between husbands and wives or parents and their children. In times of angst, the default position into which most of us unconsciously fall is a defensive one. We feel backed into a corner by the overwhelming nature of the larger issues from which we can’t run; because we can’t flee, we fight.

It’s hard – though not impossible – to step back and try to see things from another’s point of view. For the sake of relationship, though, it’s worth the effort. Because, whatever the casualties – from the virus itself or all the ancillary damage – we should aim to ensure at the very least that our valuable relationships don’t die during the pandemic.

And thinking in terms of the eight great smarts may help with that endeavor, as it does in so many other ways.

The different ways in which people are wired impact everything – how they process academic information, to be sure, and also how they react in crisis situations. Just as adapting to a child’s innate intelligence strengths improves his ability to learn his math facts, so, too, accepting that different people have different needs in the midst of our current circumstances can help to salvage relationships.

For example, a people-smart individual will crave time with others to discuss his views and feel secure, while a self-smart person will need to be alone to process what’s happening. The logic-smart will seek data; if they’re also word-smart, they’ll search for articles and research studies, but if they’re picture-smart, they’ll prefer graphs and charts. Body-smart individuals may struggle in very real ways with quarantine because of how it limits their level of physical activity. I’ve even seen nature-smart at play when a friend recently expressed hope that the environment may have a chance to heal as more people stay home.

Rather than becoming angry when a friend or loved one processes matters related to this situation differently than you, can you, instead, choose to take a step back? Can you consider how someone else’s “smarts” differ from yours and accept God’s design in each of you? Will you choose to seek understanding and peace with the ones who should – at all times – matter most to you?

CK

Photo Credit: Tyler Nix

It’s All Right, It’s Okay

My high school math teacher was an incredibly nice guy. And he was also my small school’s varsity football coach, so he spent plenty of time hearing the chants of cheerleaders during good games and bad. However, his desire to be kind and encouraging detracted from his ability to be a realistic cheerleader for his students.

I’m no slouch in math…up to a certain point. The content in Algebra 1 made absolute sense to me, and I loved Geometry. With a few exceptions, I grasped the content in Algebra 2. But after that – in what was called “Math IV” in my school, a combination of Pre-Calculus and Trigonometry? Not so much.

I’m a good memorizer so I could plug in numbers to the different formulas. But the theory behind it eluded me, so memory took me only so far. And I was a very unhealthy perfectionist at that time, petrified of seeing anything other than A’s on my report cards. Mr. Long – bless his heart – allowed me to come in during his prep-time for extra one-on-one help. And he tried. But I know now that my brain’s capacity for truly comprehending mathematical concepts ends somewhere near the end of Algebra 2. I have absolute peace about that now, too.

But I didn’t back then, and Mr. Long knew it. So – in his default nice-guy mode – he put A’s on my report cards for Math IV all year long, giving me credit for effort where my computational ability fell short.

I know he meant well. But the A’s gave me a false sense of security and made me think – despite knowing the truth deep down inside myself – that I’d do just fine in college Calculus. I didn’t. And getting a C in that class – which may have been a bit of a gift from that professor as well – threw me into an emotional tailspin that lasted a long time.

Hindsight is always 20/20. And it’s difficult to have the courage to shout the realistic cheer when it becomes clear the team won’t pull off a victory. But with his naturally kind demeanor, Mr. Long could have done it. If he’d awarded grades based on my actual comprehension of the content and explained where he saw me in that realm, it would have been hard to take. But because we had a relationship, he could have helped me come to terms with my mathematical limitations. That would have saved me from incredible angst later on and enabled me to realistically reconsider my post-secondary plans before wasting considerable time and money.

No one is good at everything. God has designed each of us to be a unique human being and has laid out a unique plan for each of our lives, and that means each of us will soar in some areas and flounder in others. We need cheerleaders in our lives to urge us on in our areas of strength and redirect us when we’re unnecessarily stuck in our weaknesses. In the context of relationship, don’t be afraid to shake your pompoms and call out, “It’s all right, it’s okay. Try something new another day!”

CK

Photo Credit: ClipArtBarn

Bright, Shiny Packages

Though I’m an in-betweener – beyond my own childbearing years but ahead of my daughters’ time to be married and have their own children – I’m surrounded by babies. Not literally, of course. But I know many people who are still having their own babies, and I also have an increasing number of friends who are becoming grandparents. As a result, I hear about new babies being born on an almost weekly basis. Of course, every healthy baby is a cause for much celebration, and we also rejoice in the few who are born with challenges even as we pray for them to be brought to full health. Every new baby is, in a sense, a bright and shiny package we can’t wait to “open.”

Unfortunately, the shine wears off all too quickly in some cases. I’m not talking about hard days – we all have those, as either our sin or that of our kids gets in the way, or the sheer depth and breadth of a parent’s job temporarily overwhelms us. What I notice are the perpetually negative parents. The ones who complain every day about a “bratty” toddler, an “out-of-control” eight-year old, or a “disrespectful” teen. Who regularly marginalize and degrade their kids, even in public. Who don’t ever seem to have a good thing to say about those precious children to whom they gave birth or worked so hard to adopt.

What happened to the enthusiasm which accompanied meeting the “shiny package” for the first time?
The prophet Jeremiah tells us that, “…The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning…” (Lamentations 3.22-23)

This means that God never gives up on us, never dismisses us as “worthless causes.” Instead, He chooses to look on us with new mercy – or new compassion, as some translations say – every single morning, regardless of how we may have messed up the day before. Indeed, He does it moment by moment in the midst of each day as well, choosing to lavish love on us despite ourselves. He, of course, wants us to confess our sins to Him – and to grow in our maturity – but when we do repent, He keeps no record of wrongs (1 John 1.9). He chooses to see the shiny package – to encourage us and celebrate us – and to cheer us along so that we can get past our sins and weaknesses.

Don’t our kids deserve the same from us? Of course, it’s necessary to appropriately discipline and correct their wrongs. But if God can “forget” our sin once it’s dealt with – choosing to see us anew each morning despite our track record – why can’t we give our kids the same grace? Imagine the difference it would make to them if we set aside pessimism and negativity and, instead, chose to focus on their new potential, day by day. If we choose to see a bright, shiny package every day of their lives.

Then move beyond imagining and make it happen.

CK

Photo Credit: Backdoor Survival

Keep It Positive

One of my pet peeves is seeing parents – and teachers – rant about their children/students online. And, sadly, it happens pretty much every day in one way or another. Currently, teachers in conventional schools are expressing relief about “finally having a break from the little monsters” and parents are bemoaning the “burden” of having their kids home for the summer. In a few weeks, that will flip; teachers will begin complaining about having to “endure” the children again and parents will throw horrid little “celebrations” akin to The Wizard of Oz munchkins singing, “Ding-dong, the witch is dead,” as their children pile back onto school buses. In between will come a continual barrage about how “terrible” certain children or teens are.

On the one hand, I get it. Classroom teaching is hard, and parenting is harder; I’ve done both. And sometimes – in order to release it so it doesn’t eat away at us and poison relationships – we really do need to vent frustration at children’s behavior; they are, after all, sinners just like us. However, doing so online – the equivalent of spewing one’s filthy laundry into the middle of a public square – isn’t the place for that. Teens and children – even those whose current behavior is poor – deserve better. And if we think they don’t know – “My kids aren’t on Facebook,” or “My students don’t follow my account.” – we’re sadly mistaken. It gets back to them. And the inherently negative nature of social media magnifies and twists the issues at hand, in their minds and ours. Then our thoughts and feelings spiral down into even more negativity. They know what we really think of them, and then see our plastered-on smiles for what they really are.

So, when you need to blow off steam – and we all do from time to time – keep it private. Offline. With your spouse or one trusted and trustworthy friend. Well out of your kids’ earshot. And, ideally, you enlist that person to help you begin brainstorming possible solutions immediately following your vent, so that neither you nor your kids get stuck in a pattern of angst.

And when you’re online? Keep it positive. Don’t lie or pretend you’re living the 21^st century version of Leave It to Beaver; it’s okay to ‘fess up to tiring days and ask for general prayer requests (God knows the details; your 817 Facebook “friends” don’t need a blow-by-blow). Think of it as an opportunity to practice discernment and restraint. And then use the time you might have spent typing up your rant – and subsequently responding to all the commiserating which would have ensued – to try your hand at authentic, in-person problem-solving and relationship-building.

CK

Outside of and Beyond

“Learning” and “school” aren’t synonyms. Of course, we certainly hope that every child’s schooling – wherever it’s delivered – involves real learning…not merely performance or “coverage” of topics. But there’s actually a big difference in the connotations behind those two words.

“Schooling” is compulsory – a mandated activity in this country. Each state has a compulsory school attendance law, requiring that all children of a certain age (usually beginning at five or six and going through 16, 17, or 18) be schooled in one way or another (i.e., in a public, private or home school). Thus, governmental agents can and do insist that children “attend school” – i.e., that their bodies are physically present in a legally-defined “school” setting for a certain amount of time each day and year. And they can and do require that instruction in particular topics be delivered to those children. They cannot, however, mandate learning.

This is because “learning” involves the heart and will of the student. A child or teen can obediently sit at her desk all day long, not causing a single disruption, and still not learn a thing. In fact, the same is true of adults. How many times, for example, have you sat through a sermon at church, yet come out of it saying, “Well, that was a bust; I didn’t learn a thing,” or blatantly committing the sin discussed in the sermon not 20 minutes later?

So, how do we help children to actually value learning?

We can start by acknowledging to them that learning and schooling aren’t necessarily the same thing. Be honest. Kids must legally attend school, and we can hope that some real learning occurs there each day. But – for many reasons – “school” is truly a drag for many kids, and we need to accept their feelings instead of belittling them. We can say, “Yes, you must attend school and I’ll do my best to help you with all that involves. But it’s okay that you don’t like it.” When we do that, we gain credibility in their eyes and, thus, earn the right to speak into their lives.

Then we can show them how real learning is different from schooling – that it involves exploring ideas and activities of personal relevance and making active choices to engage with that content. And we can create opportunities for each child to dig deeply into his or her areas of personal passion outside of and beyond their “schooling.”

Did you know that Edison and Einstein – to name but two examples – were abject failures at “school?” Edison was literally sent home (permanently) for being “learning disabled.” And, though Einstein earned “good grades,” he chafed at the constraints of the school environment. Yet both clearly continued to educate themselves outside of and beyond their schooling and demonstrated in unmistakable ways that they absolutely valued learning. Why? Each was enabled to find his niche and run with it. Your kids deserve nothing less.

CK

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Photo Credit: Todd

The Soft Place

What if you knew that today was the last day you’d ever have with your child?

I know that’s an awful thought – and I pray God that all the children of every person reading this sentence outlive us by decades, and that we, too, live to a ripe old age. But life is but a mist and we don’t know what tomorrow will bring (Psalm 39.5, Psalm 144.4, James 4.14). So…what if?

You would surely want your child to know in his dying breath that he has been loved unconditionally by you. Or you’d want her to rest in the knowledge of your unfailing love as she received the news of your passing. And the only way to guarantee that outcome in death is to live it.

I’ve interacted with too many parents who feel it’s their job to “toughen up” their kids. I even once met a dad who questioned my decision to homeschool, believing I was depriving my children the “opportunity” to be bullied. We all know that our fallen world is messed up and that our kids will inevitably experience pain and loss “out there.” But, rather than mimic the cruelty of the world, wouldn’t it be better to maintain home – the arms of mom and dad – as their soft place to land?

That’s not to say we shouldn’t provide discipline and discipling as they grow and mature; indeed, setting logical boundaries and holding to them with consistency is one of our main parental responsibilities. And, in fact, doing so provides security for kids that enables them to know they are loved. But the manner in which we do so makes all the difference.

We can yell or we can coach. We can scold or we can guide. We can accuse or listen. We can presume the worst or seek redemption. We can tear down or build up. We can bemoan the child we don’t have or accept the one we do. We can offer malice or mercy.

We will not be perfect, of course. We will have moments when we scream at our kids. In our fallenness, we will make unfounded accusations. But if the overall “tone” we set within our homes is one of grace, our children will forgive our lapses – indeed, they’ll most likely forget them – and they’ll know they can trust and rely on their parents to speak truth in love.

*****

You will never have this day with your children again;

tomorrow they’ll be a little bit older than they are today.

Today is a gift. Breathe and notice. Smell and hold them,

study their faces and little feet, and pay attention.

Enjoy today; it will be over before you know it.

Relish the charms of the present.

~ Author Unknown

CK

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Photo Credit: Sai De Silva on Unsplash

Put on Your Coaching Hat

“He just keeps crying and crying!”
“Every day it’s another temper tantrum!”
“All she does is roll her eyes and slam doors.”

I regularly hear comments like this from parents in regards to their children and teens. Parents become exasperated with their kids’ behavioral issues and, because they’re fallible human beings, they respond in kind and sometimes even rant about their kids to friends and family members or in online forums.

Parenting is hard. It requires consistent, concerted effort, and we often fear that our feeble attempts will never bear fruit. But we won’t make things better by yelling at our kids to, “Just shape up!” And, while seeking wise counsel is one thing, it certainly won’t help to air their dirty laundry on the internet.

One thing that can make a difference is choosing to coach them in how to specifically express their needs.

A crying baby is actually doing just that as best he can. Because he’s pre-verbal, his mom or dad must take time to discover the cause of his angst. But he will stop crying when we’ve figured it out. And we can begin the process of teaching him to express his needs by talking to him as we aim to sooth him: “Jimmy, are you wet? Let’s see about that. Oh, honey, no, it’s not that, is it? Do you think you’re hungry? I know you just ate but maybe you’re starting a growth spurt. What do you think?” Babies learn to speak by being spoken to, and they will learn to express their specific needs by hearing us acknowledge them as we understand them.

As babies grow into toddlerhood and beyond, we need to continue and expand upon the coaching process. Instead of scolding a three-year old for having a tantrum, we must discover ways to keep her safe in the midst of it – that may mean letting her cry it out on the living room floor or it might mean holding her tight as she sobs – and then, when the storm has passed, comfort her while talking her through the situation – i.e., by asking specific questions and helping her to find the words she needs. 

If we commit to this process from early-on – such that our children know we are a safe refuge as they navigate their life experiences and feelings – we probably won’t ever get to the eye rolls and door slams. But we can ameliorate that behavior as well, if we are willing to take the time our teens need. An angry teen may need some time alone, but we mustn’t let her stay there. In many ways, teens are simply toddlers in bigger bodies, and we must comfort them, listen to them, and actively coach them in using specific language to express themselves just as we did when they were younger.

Kids don’t come to us all put together. When they “freak out,” it’s because they’re hurt and confused. And – as the people on earth who should love them best – they need our intentional, invested help. When we incrementally coach them, they will grow into the healthy, motivated adults we want them to be.

CK

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Photo Credit: 365psd

A Game-Changer

After my fourth year of teaching English to middle school-aged kids, I transferred to the neighboring high school. On my first day, I discovered that several students who'd been in my classes as eighth graders were on my rosters at the high school. One such student was Roberto.

Though he didn’t love school, Roberto was bright and energetic. His English skills were strong, and in middle school he regularly participated in group discussions and readily smiled and joked appropriately with his classmates and me. I looked forward to seeing him again.

But Roberto was different in the fall. He seemed naturally petrified on the first day – as did all the freshmen. Unlike his same-aged peers, though, he didn’t settle in. Within a couple of weeks – in complete contrast to the good rapport we’d previously enjoyed – he refused to do any of the work I assigned and devolved into disrupting my class with surliness or inappropriate commentary every day. Confused and a little hurt, I reluctantly sent him to the principal’s office a couple of times, but that didn’t seem like a real solution – and the more he was sent out, the further behind he fell. I finally chose a different course of action and set one desk at the back of the room, away from all the others. Privately, I told Roberto the desk was his – that he couldn’t join the rest of the class until he agreed to participate appropriately but that I wouldn’t send him out again if he didn’t cause disruption.

Every day for three straight weeks, he went right to his new desk without complaint, and promptly put his head down. When the bell rang, he left without a word. Though it was an improvement – and I knew he was listening to our class discussions even as he feigned sleep – I was still worried. I finally asked him to come after school to talk.

To my surprise, he showed up. But he stomped in, scraped chair legs across the floor as he sat down among the regular desks, and looked as if he wanted to punch something. As I finished a conversation with another student, anger rose within me. Who did this kid think he was? He’d been “my bud” before; I didn’t deserve this behavior from him. It was about time he knew it!

And then… I “heard” what I know to be the Holy Spirit’s still small voice in my soul, prompting me down a different path. The other student left, and I let out a deep sigh, then gently pulled out the chair next to Roberto. I put a hand on his shoulder and said as calmly as I could muster, “Roberto, what’s wrong? How can I help?”

And then – to my utter astonishment – his shoulders shuddered and he began sobbing. Not knowing what else to do, I simply kept my hand on his back and just let him cry.

After 10 minutes, he calmed down enough to talk. Turns out, he was completely overwhelmed by absolutely every aspect of high school, and the pressure he felt built up more and more every day. His disruptions were a cover for deep anxiety.

I reassured him that I – for one – was on his side and would help however I could. At the end of the conversation, he finally flashed a big grin, and I almost cried, realizing how much I’d missed that smile. When he walked into class the next day, he went right past his “detention seat” to his previous spot among his classmates and never disrupted again.

Sometimes kids do need discipline, consequences, and punishment. But sometimes they actually need us - our presence and an authentic listening ear. I couldn’t change Roberto’s overall circumstances. But because I listened, he knew he wasn’t alone. And just that simple act was a game-changer.

CK

A Masterpiece, Not a Widget

I am a unique, one-of-a-kind, unrepeatable, never-to-be-seen-again,

created-in-the-image-of-God miracle.

This is what Dr. Kathy teaches in her seminars for parents, teachers, young adults, and children. She believes the truth of the statement to the core of her being. So do I. In fact, this reality has been one of the driving forces in my adult life - a principle by which I endeavored to function when I was a classroom teacher and by which I earnestly seek to live now as a parent.

It’s not easy. It’s so much simpler to put children in boxes – to think in factory mode and attempt to “standardize” them in this way and that. After all, if we know the “normal” parameters in any sphere of life, we can evaluate a child against them and do something about it. Namely, we can gloat when he “exceeds expectations” and take steps to “remediate” when he fails to “measure up.” After all, without an ability to categorize, classify, and rate, how would we maintain control?

But therein lies the rub. Children are not products on an assembly line. They are not nuts and bolts or widgets, each needing to measure precisely the same as its predecessor and peer. We’re not supposed to be able to mold them into the image of our current cultural ideal, each one the same as the next, in an attempt to manufacture some sort of utopian society. We’re not meant to be in control like that.

That’s God’s job. He – as the Creator of the universe and the sculptor behind the intricate design of each individual human being (Psalm 139) – is in charge. He chose the particular DNA sequencing – the blueprint by which each person functions intellectually, physically, emotionally, and spiritually. And He chose in His wisdom to insure that each individual’s sequence is unique and never-to-be-repeated. When we don’t like what we see in a child’s innate being, we can push and prod and poke all day long, trying to re-mold her according to our preferences. But playing God is always wrong. Playing God destroys.

So what does leaving things to God look like in day-to-day reality?

It means choosing to stop pushing your ballerina toward track or your chess champion toward football. It means choosing to cease and desist from thinking of your child as “behind” in math, and deciding instead to say, “This is where he is now, and we’ll make daily progress at his pace.” It means choosing to stop bemoaning your “shy” child in favor of accepting and nurturing her quiet, self-smart nature. Bottom line, it means choosing to study the design intricacy of the masterpiece God has set before you – to facilitate His intentions – instead of throwing the child onto an assembly line or banging away with your human chisel and hammer.

Do you believe Dr. Kathy’s summary? Then prove it in your daily actions toward the unique, one-of-a-kind, unrepeatable, never-to-be-seen-again, created-in-the-image-of-God miracles He has entrusted to your care.

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Photo Credit: photogramma1

CK

You Like Me

In 1985 when she won the Best Actress award for Places in the Heart, actress Sally Field famously ended her acceptance speech by shouting, “You like me. Right now! You like me!” Recognition by her acting peers meant that much to Ms. Field, almost as if the award were validating her very existence.

Of course, acting is a fickle business, and all the award signifies is that the members of the Screen Actors’ Guild appreciated her performance in that one movie. But the sentiment behind Ms. Field’s exclamation is what our children seek from us, perhaps more than anything else.

When I was growing up, I didn’t hear that message. Instead, my parents’ words and actions told me they liked me only when I…

·      didn’t cry the day they dropped me off at kindergarten even though I was still just four years old;

·      bottled up my fear during the frequent tornado warnings we endured;

·      earned straight A’s;

·      enrolled in the pre-veterinary medicine program in college.

And it was clear that they didn’t like me at all when I mentioned that a couple of boys were trying to lift up my dress during circle time…when my terror during the storms overwhelmed me…when the best I could muster was an A-minus…and when I gave up on a medical career after giving my life to Christ, opting instead for a humanities degree which eventually led to several years as a classroom teacher and now life as a homeschooling mom.

When I “tattled” on the boys and expressed my fears, I made their lives inconvenient. They had to consider taking time to visit my teacher to explain what had happened in class. They had to think about coming across the basement to comfort a sobbing daughter. They actually did neither, but the fact that my imperfect feelings interrupted their lives made them dislike me.

And when I exhibited less than perfect ability to master every subject area, I jeopardized their identity, since they’d built their reputation as “good parents” on my academic performance. Similarly, when I gave up what would have been the path to a prestigious career, I damaged their identity as the parents of an “extraordinary child.” So they disliked me.

One of my goals as a mom has been to break the chains of multi-generational dysfunction to which my parents were party. I’m far, far from perfect, but I want my kids to know I’ll go out of my way for them. I’ll listen to their concerns and act in response; in Jesus’ name, I’ll dry their tears and bind up their wounds. And I’ll help them each to discover and grow the gifts and abilities God has given them rather than trying to shape their lives in my image.

Ultimately, I want my kids to know that I love them and that I like them. I really like them.

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Photo Credit: Peter Dahlgren

CK

The Least I Can Do

As a recovering perfectionist, I get still get frustrated when asked to handle a task I don’t understand well. And because I do nothing with our TV other than turning it on to a pre-set news channel, I know little about how to operate our multi-button remote control.

Not long ago, one of my daughters was using the remote to pop in a movie, and the heel of her hand accidentally pressed a button at the bottom of the device. The picture disappeared, replaced by an empty blue screen. And, unfortunately, I reacted very poorly. I could have chosen to calmly attempt to fix the problem. Or I could have simply decided to turn off the TV and wait until my husband got home; after all, the girls and I could have easily managed an afternoon without screen time, and I knew my husband could solve the glitch in a matter of minutes.

Instead, the part of me that still doesn’t handle feeling incompetent reared its ugly head. So I glared at my precious daughter and said, “If you’re going to break this when you use it, you just won’t be allowed to use it at all.”

I hadn’t yelled, but my tone caused her to flinch. And the devastation on her face said it all.

I’d already crossed a line, and the logical part of my brain begged me to leave before I could do more damage. Blessedly, I listened and escaped to my room where I laid sobbing for several minutes, distraught about what I’d just done. A short time later, I called my daughter in, took her hands in mine, looked her squarely in the eye, and admitted my sin against her. I took complete ownership for my inappropriate words, imploring her to believe that she’d had no fault in the matter.

I asked for her forgiveness, and she willingly granted it, but I still worry. This daughter – who is gifted and beyond clever by nature – seems to have inherited my propensity toward perfectionism despite my concerted (though imperfect) attempts to keep it at bay. So I fret that my immature rants – though blessedly occasional – will weasel their way into her soul and cause her to doubt my love and/or her worth. Given her temperament, I fear it would not take much to push her over that edge.

I pray that what God has taught me in recent years will inoculate her – that my willingness (through His grace) to acknowledge that I regularly mess up and to ask forgiveness when I do will push back against the Perfection Infection that threatens her well-being. And I’ve been praying fervently for the self-control to quell my overreactions and unnecessary criticism.

I could dismiss my weakness and say, “Well, I don’t do it often so she can just deal with it.” Sadly, I’ve known a lot of parents who do that with various habits and tendencies. But as the parent, I’m supposed to be mature enough to put my child’s needs above my personal comfort. And because I know the pain of perfectionism first-hand, I refuse to sit by and be a knowing party to it in her life. 

As the mom, that’s the least I can do. What about you?

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Photo Credit: Willem Karssenberg

CK

Be the Expert

In their book No More Perfect Kids, Jill Savage and Kathy Koch say, “We risk great damage to children when we expect them to be who they weren’t created to be. Expecting them to give us what they can’t doesn’t work.”

Of course, this truth doesn’t mean holding low expectations. Rather, as Jill and Kathy point out, “Setting appropriate expectations is a key to successful parenting. This requires us to know our children – really know our kids. If our goals are too low, children won’t achieve as much as they might have. If they’re too high, children may get frustrated and give up. In either case, they may not achieve what they’re capable of. Setting appropriate expectations requires us to really know our children.”

The key word in that paragraph is appropriate. And the key implicit idea – which Kathy and Jill explain further elsewhere – is that expectations must be individualized. In other words, our expectations for any given child must match how God has chosen to wire him – not the unrealistic ideal we may have envisioned before his birth. And each and every child must be viewed as a unique creation – a one-of-a-kind, never-to-be-repeated miracle, as Kathy often notes. Children ought not be standardized, as if they were products on an assembly line, expecting from them all the same accomplishments met in the same way at the same pace and to the same degree.

Of course, doing the right thing takes work. Trying to discern how each child has been designed – which strengths are not only gifts but passions, which weaknesses are character issues to be resolved and which are innate traits to be embraced – is a tricky, never-ending process. And we feel so busy with all the demands on our lives that the thought of such continuous effort overwhelms. It’s much easier to let an outside “expert” determine a narrow set of “norms” for all kids and then expect every child to fit into the box.

Easier but wrong. Do we expect a rabbit to fly or cat to swim? Would we expect every cat to catch the same amount of mice each week, keeping a careful tally and penalizing the ones who didn’t catch “enough?” Would we rate each one’s method of mouse catching, ranking them against each other? Would we put a cat in a hopping contest against a rabbit?

We seem to understand the absurdity of standardization in that context. So why don’t we grasp it when it comes to our children? Why do we feel there are perfect ideals – academically, behaviorally, relationally, physically – by which we can measure the “worth” of a child? Why do we let ourselves be led by false prophets who would try to convince us of those lies?

Of course, we can refer to “experts” to gain a general idea about child development as a whole. But we need to be careful, listening only to those who understand that children are human beings, not robots of some sort. And we need to personalize the ideas of even the most trusted authority because that person has not met our children. A parent who has committed to the on-going process of discovering and embracing the uniqueness of her child is the real expert on that child – the only one who can truly customize an appropriate growing-up experience for him. Be that parent. Be your child’s expert. 

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Photo Credit: Tetra Pak

CK

A Tale of Two Parenting Styles

Once upon a time, Angela had a little girl and named her Sally. Sally was tall like her dad but rather stocky like her mom. She was very sweet natured but also very sensitive, prone to tears at the slightest provocation.

As Sally grew into her preschool years, it became clear – despite the fact that Angela had dressed her in olive greens and browns as a baby and did everything she could to avoid stereotypical “girl toys” - that Sally had been naturally wired to enjoy baby dolls, dressing up in frilly outfits, and the color pink. Sally begged Angela to indulge her interests even a little, but Angela refused.

When Sally was three, Angela – who’d always wanted to run competitively despite not really being built for it – decided that Sally would be a runner. She entered Sally in a Kids’ Race, hollering at her to, “Run faster!” for the entire three-block course. Sally pushed herself as hard as she could, but her height and build weren’t conducive to running. So she finished dead last, a fate Angela openly bemoaned on a regular basis in Sally’s presence. Though Angela eventually enrolled Sally in ballet, she complained about it on the way to every practice and continued to insist that Sally keep running, too.

On the other side of town, Maureen had given birth to a little girl named Carrie. Maureen had been a tomboy growing up so, like Angela, she planned to avoid the “girly” stereotype as well. As such, she also eschewed frilly pink clothes for Carrie as a baby and stocked her home with puzzles, toy cars, and Legos.

As Carrie reached the preschool years, she began to express preferences for pink, “girly” outfits. She also asked for a baby doll and relevant accessories, and ignored the toy trucks. When shopping with Maureen, she gravitated to Disney princess puzzles and the Lego sets marketed to girls.

Maureen wrestled mightily within herself. On the one hand, she didn’t understand “girly girls,” and had no interest in pursuing such interests. On the other hand, she could see that Carrie’s preferences had to be wired by God since she’d done nothing to encourage them.

In the end, she chose God over herself. She allowed Carrie to wear pastel-colored dresses and ruffled ankle socks. She bought the baby doll and added other girl-themed toys to her collection. When Carrie was old enough to begin asking for nail polish, Maureen indulged her. And in terms of extracurricular activities, she humbled herself and enthusiastically allowed Carrie to pursue her interest in dance rather than making her participate in Maureen’s preference for softball and long-distance running.

The moral of the story is not that “girly girls” are preferable to tomboys or that dance is better than running. Rather, it is, of course, that we have a responsibility to nurture and celebrate the children God has chosen for us – raising them for Him – instead of aiming to mold them into images of ourselves. If we do that, each of our children will be able to maximize his or her God-given talents and abilities and will be secure in themselves and in those around them. So the question is: Are you choosing yourself or God?

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Photo Credit: bejolino

CK

Messy but Right

We correctly surmise from both God’s Word (i.e., Psalm 139:13-16, among many other passages) and simple observation of the world around us that no two people are alike. Biological siblings raised by the same parents in the same circumstances may look or act nothing alike and often choose markedly different paths in life. Even identical twins, despite physical similarities and a special psychological connection with each other, demonstrate significant differences in personality, temperament, and gifting.

As a result, people are “messy.” We’re not machines like this tragic "Cyborg Child," designed to be programmed such that we’ll all do the same things at the same pace at the same age. Instead, when it comes to our development – physically, mentally, emotionally, socially, and spiritually – each one has a God-ordained path that is not the same as anyone else’s. Of course, that complicates our interactions with each other, and we long for something simpler.

I believe our culture’s tendency toward “standardizing” children’s learning is an outgrowth of this desire for simplicity. We want a guarantee that, if we require all children to study the same content in the same way at the same ages, each one will follow along at the prescribed pace and all will have the same (good) outcome when we deem them to have reached adulthood. Because we love our kids and our country, we want some way to measure that we’ve done our job as grown-ups to help each child succeed. So we write policies and pass laws delineating a narrow definition of “success” and mandating that certain concepts be covered in particular “grade levels.” Then we expect every child to follow the same route and go at the same speed.

The motivation behind such efforts is laudable – but it’s misguided considering the reality that each of us is a unique, one-of-a-kind, unrepeatable miracle. As I mentioned in my last piece, “we [do] need to insure that each young person attains a high level of functionality in skill areas necessary for managing as an independent adult. But we also ought to accept that each child will gain mastery in those areas at different rates. Further, we must stop expecting all children to master every specialty area. Instead, we do well to enable each young person to find and develop her particular areas of strength so she can celebrate and fully live out who she [is really] supposed to be.”

Making sure each child is respected as a unique individual is hard work; it’s easier to try forcing them to function as machines. But acknowledging scriptural and observable reality when it comes to our children’s learning is the truly loving and morally right thing to do, messy as it is.

CK

Nighttime Discipling

I've been married for a long time (!) and am Momma to three girls: Anna Vivian - who is with Jesus but who is still, nonetheless, a very real part of our family - and our "Irish twins," Rachel and Abigail, who will soon turn 11 and 10, respectively. Before being blessed with my girls, I served as a missionary to the public schools (i.e., I was a classroom teacher), but am now passionate about the call God has given me to be an at-home mom and homeschool educator.

To help financially, I've also provided in-home childcare for several years; I currently have a five-year old, her 13-month old sister, and another (10-week old) baby. That's worked out pretty well over the years, as I basically operate as if the little ones are part of my own "full quiver." But there's no doubt about it: At the end of the day - any day - I am tired!

So I must acknowledge my great dismay about a year ago, when Rachel - who has always been a rather light sleeper - developed anxiety-induced insomnia. And it was even more upsetting that the only salve for her angst was for me - not my husband - to lay down with her as she dozed off. Admittedly, I didn't handle this very maturely; in fact, it's safe to say I threw more than one spiritual temper tantrum: "Come on, God! It's not like the child doesn't see me during the day. In fact, I'm with her all.day.long! I am so tired; I just want a little of my own time at night!"
To make matters worse, I sometimes vented these feelings to Rachel herself. Not every night, but more often than I really want to admit, I stomped upstairs to implore her: "I've taught you a boatload of relaxation techniques, including talking to Jesus. Can't you just get to sleep by yourself for a change?" And I'm sure she sensed my exasperated body language even when I didn't speak with words.

For a while, things seemed to get better, and I thought the "phase" had passed. But it came roaring back a couple months ago. In fact, the intensity of her anxiety and the nightly length of her insomnia seemed far greater than before. And one night my frustration spilled over again, such that I actually spent well over half an hour - starting at midnight! - scolding her as she sobbed. Sadly, in the midst of my rant, I even said, "You're going to have to figure out what you need to make this stop. I can't do it anymore!"

By the light of day the next morning, I felt horrible for my rant, so I pulled her aside and confessed my sins of selfishness and anger. Always quick to forgive, she hugged me tightly and we cried together. And then she said, "I thought about what you said, and I think I know what would help. If you pray with me when you come up, I think that's what I need."

We do pray together several times each day, and my husband prays with both girls as he does their usual bedtime routine. So I'd never considered that I ought to pray with Rachel again during my nightly check-in with her. But she was right: She needed specific prayer asking the Lord to calm her heart and mind. And she apparently needed it to come from her momma.

So we altered our routine. Instead of just laying with her - trying to calm her in my strength - I began to pray for her each night, asking the Lord to be her strength and her peace. I also specifically pray in Jesus' name that satan will be bound from her, because I quickly realized the issue could, at times, be spiritual warfare. Lo and behold, Rachel noticeably calmed immediately after our first nights' prayers, such that I was able to leave after just a few minutes instead of having to stay for a prolonged time. And she got to sleep very quickly every night for a couple of weeks!

She still has occasional rough nights, but now they occur once or twice a month instead of four or five times a week. And I've been able to use those opportunities to remind her that God is not a genie - so that, if He chooses to withhold sleep for a time on some nights, He has a reason for it. She's not always happy with that answer, but she understands about His sovereignty and has even thought through possible reasons why He wants her awake at times. So, when that happens, she is much less prone to get overly anxious, and she even seeks Him out herself after I've left.

I still sometimes feel selfish about my time, but, honestly, our simple nightly prayer time has changed my perspective on the whole thing, too. First, God used it to demonstrate again how bonded my daughter is to me - a cherished truth because I'm the product of a dysfunctional home where my mother virtually ignored me. Second, I've seen clearly that He intends me to be Jesus' arms for my girl when she needs comfort. In other words, it's not enough to implore a child to "talk to Jesus;" most need a physical connection with Him, and that's the part we provide. Finally, my faith has been strengthened as I've witnessed His provision for Rachel through our prayers.

In fact, our nightly time together has morphed from something I dreaded to one of my favorite times of day with her. Now we sometimes talk about an issue that bothered her during the day, and I'll include prayer for that as well. Or she asks deep questions about the ways of the world or God's character. So we have incredibly meaningful conversations that don't seem to happen during the day, despite the fact that we're together all the time. Sometimes our new chat-and-pray routine lasts for just 10 to 15 minutes; other times, it's much longer.

Now, especially if we've had several consecutive longer conversations or if Rachel has a hard night and needs me to stay later than usual, I still sometimes struggle with feeling selfish about my time. In fact, I know it's important for me - and any full-time mom - to have alone-time on a regular basis, so it's not wrong to crave that and ask the Lord to provide it. But the difference for me lately - instituted only since I listened to the wisdom God imparted to a tired, sad 10-year old girl - is that I am more at peace with trusting Him for that time instead of grasping for it myself.

I hope and pray that my time with Rachel each night is part of her process of growing closer to Jesus; in fact, I'm recalling conversations from years ago with older moms about the importance of that late-night mother-daughter time, so I'm confident it's a very good thing for Rachel. Not only for her, though, as I also know without a doubt that it's been a significant part of my spiritual walk lately, too. This nighttime discipling is, in fact, for both of us.

WOP

SLC