I’m not an expert on anything, especially parenting. Even when a parent gets something right, he has to be careful when sharing his success as advice, because there is the very real possibility that the child’s reaction was entirely unique to that child.
However, I do believe it can be helpful to share our own experiences and thoughts on those experiences, as well as insights and epiphanies God may grant us along our journey. In that light, I’m going to address this as I would in front of the bedroom mirror, rather than from behind a lectern, and call all of my said reflections “Mirror Musings.”
Life for us is full of responsibility, and there are few that are more difficult than being a parent. I go to work all day, then come home to three rowdy little girls. Kristina spends most of the day feeding them and protecting them from each other, planning shopping nights, cleaning, and often just putting up with their noise: fighting, crying, and squealing.
There’s no denying that we need rest, just to recharge our batteries for a bit. Most often that happens at night after the kids are asleep, or at nap-time when it’s the weekend. But every so often there’s a day when Kristina or I feel as if we need an ER (Emergency Rest), right now, or things will get far worse. Emotions have been building, there’s a lot of stress in the air, and every cell in my body (or Kristina’s) feels like it’s going to pop like popcorn if everything doesn’t stop immediately. And I think that’s reasonable. We’re human and we can’t expect ourselves to be superhuman. Circumstances and situations can pile up, as can emotions, and there are times it is better to send the kids to their room to play or just separate ourselves from them just long enough to get all the kinks worked out. It may not be ideal, but it’s the lesser of two evils, and I think we need to know ourselves and our limits, lest we unintentionally cause harm.
But there are other times, times when we feel justified in disconnecting from our responsibilities. It can be as simple as the kids running off and playing by themselves of their own volition, and being unwilling to interact with them if they come to us during that time. Or it could be being on a computer or cell phone while the kids are watching a show, only to be distant or reluctant to interact if they come to us during the show to tell us some random fact or repeat what’s going on in the show. After all, that stuff isn’t important, right?
There are times I would say “yes” to that question, but deep down I realize that in reality, what we are doing in general when we push our responsibilities aside is taking the easy road of immediate gratification. We are spending our present, and thus are not investing for our future. I’m not talking about money, but time. I asked myself this question this morning, “What am I doing right now that I will wish ten years from now I hadn’t?” It was thought-provoking. There habits (or lack thereof) in my Bible reading, prayer time, marriage, work, where I wonder if I will someday, sooner or later, wish I had done things differently.
It’s not always possible, I remind myself, to know the eventuality of any given act, and it’s true that some things turn out far different than we think, but I must still be mindful of how my actions and decisions, even small ones, may impact my life. Some decisions are a simple exchange: gain comfort or ease or rest now, and pay later. Others are more complex, and have deeper ramifications, like what I do as a father or husband. Children need to spend time interacting with and learning from their parents, but also need to spend time exploring on their own, and hashing problems out themselves. But too often I gravitate toward the easier of the two camps, when my place is in the middle. That is the nature of being human, I suppose: there is a grain of laziness that’s always being fought off.
But one of my strongest negative emotions is regret. There are so many things I regret about my past, not that I was in a gang or did drugs or anything huge like that. But I feel sharply the missed opportunities or the times I can recognize I made a poor choice or used an ill word. Regret is a bit too powerful in my case, I think, because it can be crippling, but it has a purpose. Like pain, it is to remind of a problem and motivate me to do better, not to overcome me itself. As I look at my children, I believe it is necessary to try to remove myself from the equation and look at what I am doing objectively, as if I were not me. If I saw someone else, like one of my good friends, living the way I do, what would I think? Would I shake my head? Would I raise an eyebrow? I might not be able to predict the future, but I can at least look at those things whose eventualities will almost certainly not be positive, or the suppression of which will lead to growth for everyone. And I can choose to look in the telescope of God’s Word, and the common sense He has given me, and realize where my ship is heading. It’s hard to sail against the wind, but if the wind takes me to someplace I would rather not be, it is worth the fight.
I need to be mindful of what I do, because everything has a long-term result, even if only a small one. I have to invest in my present, in my “now,” so that in the future I can look back and thank God I didn’t end up far afield. And I need to pray about more things that I can’t surmise an eventuality for, because all things are in His hands, and if I involve Him in each step I take, my path will lead in His direction.
My son, forget not my law; but let thine heart keep my commandments:
For length of days, and long life, and peace, shall they add to thee. Let not mercy and truth forsake thee: bind them about thy neck; write them upon the table of thine heart:
So shalt thou find favour and good understanding in the sight of God and man.
Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.
Be not wise in thine own eyes: fear the Lord, and depart from evil. It shall be health to thy navel, and marrow to thy bones.
Proverbs 3:1-8
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