I thought it would be nice to have a bit of change of pace in this blog once in a while - a departure from the deadly serious to focus on the practical day-to-day of our lives once in a while.
I'm now well into the process of teaching a second child (Angelina) to read, so I thought I might outline some of our methods and share some of the resources I've created so that others don't have to completely reinvent the wheel.
With all the reading resources out there I suppose it seems strange that I've chosen to kind of create my own program, but it's not just because I'm a sucker for punishment. When I was first looking at teaching Miss Curie to read I faced a few dilemmas.
1)Most of what was available at our local library was based on a whole-language or look and say approach. While these methods definitely have their place in some situations, my personal opinion is that these are the exception, not the rule. I might keep some of my thoughts about the different learning to read methods for another post. Suffice it to say, based on my teaching/tutoring experience and anecdotal evidence of friends and family, I decided that phonics would be the best starting point for teaching our girls to read.
2)The few phonics books available at our library or some of the cheaper reading programs I could find to buy didn't allow for much practice of particular sounds or rules. I was looking for something that would start with just a few sounds and gradually build up Miss Curie's "repertoire" of sounds, while still giving her the chance to experience reading for herself, rather than just identifying the beginning or ending sounds of words (although that was where we started more informally)
3)I wanted a way to teach Miss Curie to JUST look at the words, not depend on the pictures or memory to "read" without really reading. Given her personality, I was pretty sure that if I let her get into haphazard methods of "reading" without really understanding how words and sounds are put together, then it would be very hard for her to progress later on. Since verbal language is one of Miss Curie's strengths (and even more so for Angelina), she would memorize most of a book after hearing it just once, so I couldn't use books that we had already read to her to teach her to read.
4)I wanted to start really small, but for Miss Curie to feel that she had really achieved something in our reading "sessions".
All these factors led me to writing super-short stories for her to "illustrate" herself. In each of these I tried to focus on very few sounds and the only "sight" word was "the".
Here are a few examples of our first stories:
The cat is fat.
The cat sat on the hat.
The hat is flat.
The cat is sad.
The pig is big.
The pig can dig.
As I come across others I'll gradually add them to this blog for my own records. Anyone reading this is welcome to use and share these as well (although it's not that hard to make up your own stuff anyway!). Anything that I share here is to be shared free of charge though, not to be resold in any form (not that I can imagine producing anything worth paying for - as I say, it's not that hard to make up your own basic stories with a few simple words!)
Just a final note on b,d,p and q... I've been pretty quick to correct our girls when they get these confused without making a big deal about it. When I was a kid, I used to get them confused and write in mirror writing (seems to be slightly more common with us "lefties"), but I just grew out of it. Miss Curie occasionally gets numbers backwards still, but is fine with letters, so my feeling is that until age six or seven getting the orientation of letters confused is not a big deal and most kids will grow out of it. However, I'm NOT an expert, so if there is any doubt I definitely recommend talking to someone who is!
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
A Blatant Regard For Others
A couple of days ago I dropped off Miss Curie for an afternoon activity. It was a pretty warm afternoon and I backed into the car park so I could get home quickly and get dinner organised as soon as Miss Curie was "signed in". I came back out to my car just a few minutes later to find another car parked directly in front of mine, completely blocking my exit. This was in an otherwise almost-empty car park.
This wasn't really a big deal. It wasn't very long before the driver of the other car came back out and drove away. My life went on pretty much as usual. However, even a few minutes delay was inconvenient. Hanging around in a car park with two small and grumpy children is no fun. I was in a quandary - should I just wait, or should I try to track down the owner of the car in case they were more than a few minutes? And I'll admit, I was more than a little peeved that in a car park with loads of other spaces close to the building, someone had had the blatant disregard for my needs to park their car in a way that totally blocked me in.
Such situations tend to get me pondering, and what came of my pondering was this. The Christian calling is about a lot more than NOT having a blatant disregard for others. It is very easy for me to feel superior to that sweet-looking older lady who drove away a few minutes later, just because I've never blocked someone else in like that (and who knows, she may, in fact, have had a really good reason). However, I have no business feeling one tiny bit superior, because I am still being passive. My first consideration in making decisions is what is best for me. I invariably choose the "path of least resistance" unless it is clearly morally wrong. This doesn't make me good, just lazy.
What if I rose to a higher standard? What if I started making decisions with a blatant regard for others? When I really meditate on the life of Christ, I'm overwhelmed by a sense of His perfection. He did so much more than JUST not do wrong - He did everything absolutely right. He always chose the "best for others" option, not the "best for me while not hurting anyone else option".
So anyway, that's what I'm working on - having a blatant regard for others. Someone let me know when I'm perfect!
This wasn't really a big deal. It wasn't very long before the driver of the other car came back out and drove away. My life went on pretty much as usual. However, even a few minutes delay was inconvenient. Hanging around in a car park with two small and grumpy children is no fun. I was in a quandary - should I just wait, or should I try to track down the owner of the car in case they were more than a few minutes? And I'll admit, I was more than a little peeved that in a car park with loads of other spaces close to the building, someone had had the blatant disregard for my needs to park their car in a way that totally blocked me in.
Such situations tend to get me pondering, and what came of my pondering was this. The Christian calling is about a lot more than NOT having a blatant disregard for others. It is very easy for me to feel superior to that sweet-looking older lady who drove away a few minutes later, just because I've never blocked someone else in like that (and who knows, she may, in fact, have had a really good reason). However, I have no business feeling one tiny bit superior, because I am still being passive. My first consideration in making decisions is what is best for me. I invariably choose the "path of least resistance" unless it is clearly morally wrong. This doesn't make me good, just lazy.
What if I rose to a higher standard? What if I started making decisions with a blatant regard for others? When I really meditate on the life of Christ, I'm overwhelmed by a sense of His perfection. He did so much more than JUST not do wrong - He did everything absolutely right. He always chose the "best for others" option, not the "best for me while not hurting anyone else option".
So anyway, that's what I'm working on - having a blatant regard for others. Someone let me know when I'm perfect!
Friday, October 16, 2009
Sacrifice ... or Selfishness?
I often hear and read about parenting, and motherhood in particular, being the most challenging and demanding job in the universe. I also often hear about the sacrifices inherent in being a mother. Recently, I've found myself questioning how much I truly sacrifice for my family.
My basic human nature didn't suddenly evaporate in the first moment of conception, nor did I leave my fundamental selfishness behind in the labour ward when I brought Miss Curie home. Since being married, I have often believed that I was sacrificing my needs or desires for the sake of others. If I'm honest though, marriage and motherhood didn't automatically exterminate my ego. Instead, as my happiness and comfort became more entwined with the happiness and comfort of other human beings, I learned to compromise some of my desires to achieve the most favourable outcome for ... you guessed it! ... myself. It's a sad truth, but it's the honest truth, as I've been coming to see over the last few months.
Most of us like to believe that we are constantly making sacrifices for the well-being of others. Especially as parents and husbands and wives we may mentally rehearse all the things we have given up for the sake of our families. I find in my own life that, more often than not, the sacrifices are actually a trade-off. I've learned to accept that life won't be exactly as I would like, but if I look after my kids and husband then they're more likely to do what I want. I don't find it particularly enjoyable to realise that too often the goal of my living has been to bring up a husband and children that will keep me happy and comfortable.
For example, I'd like Raamonster to eat and live healthy so he has the physical and emotional energy to be a good husband to me. I feed my kids good food so I don't have to get up through the night to sick children. The ultimate results for them will probably be good, but the reality of my motivation is still downright ugly. And I could come up with plenty more examples of how my input into the family unit is ultimately self-motivated, not other-centred. I could, but it's just too embarrassing to list them all here!!!
So I'm working on ditching my traditional martyr mentality and actually investing in truly selfless sacrifice. The change of mindset is sure to be a lifelong process!
My basic human nature didn't suddenly evaporate in the first moment of conception, nor did I leave my fundamental selfishness behind in the labour ward when I brought Miss Curie home. Since being married, I have often believed that I was sacrificing my needs or desires for the sake of others. If I'm honest though, marriage and motherhood didn't automatically exterminate my ego. Instead, as my happiness and comfort became more entwined with the happiness and comfort of other human beings, I learned to compromise some of my desires to achieve the most favourable outcome for ... you guessed it! ... myself. It's a sad truth, but it's the honest truth, as I've been coming to see over the last few months.
Most of us like to believe that we are constantly making sacrifices for the well-being of others. Especially as parents and husbands and wives we may mentally rehearse all the things we have given up for the sake of our families. I find in my own life that, more often than not, the sacrifices are actually a trade-off. I've learned to accept that life won't be exactly as I would like, but if I look after my kids and husband then they're more likely to do what I want. I don't find it particularly enjoyable to realise that too often the goal of my living has been to bring up a husband and children that will keep me happy and comfortable.
For example, I'd like Raamonster to eat and live healthy so he has the physical and emotional energy to be a good husband to me. I feed my kids good food so I don't have to get up through the night to sick children. The ultimate results for them will probably be good, but the reality of my motivation is still downright ugly. And I could come up with plenty more examples of how my input into the family unit is ultimately self-motivated, not other-centred. I could, but it's just too embarrassing to list them all here!!!
So I'm working on ditching my traditional martyr mentality and actually investing in truly selfless sacrifice. The change of mindset is sure to be a lifelong process!
Friday, September 11, 2009
Every Little Bit (To All My Sisters Everywhere)
In a few weeks, I'm looking forward to being reunited with sisters (and brothers) from around the world. Some are sisters by blood, some by marriage, all are my sisters in the spirit. Some I see every week, but many I haven't seen in a year or two. However, I think of these sisters often. None of my sisters is likely to make it into a list of the world's most influential people - they're not likely to find themselves on a magazine cover for their incredible accomplishments, but they are still the people I truly admire.
Some of us have the close bonds of shared experience - for some it is chronic illness, for others marriage challenges, yet others share the experience of staring into the abyss of mental breakdown. But even for those who haven't (yet) faced these "big" things, we all share the experience of the daily grind. I believe we have all known at times (unless we are truly living in fantasy land) the discouragement of (many) failure(s), the sense of inadequacy to simply live our day-to-day lives. I think every one of us has been overwhelmed at times by the unbending years that stretch both before and behind us, burdened by a feeling of chronic underachievement.
We live in a world that admires only big things and flamboyant achievements. Most of my sisters won't do anything spectacular in their lives. No solo trips around the world, no raising fourteen children single-handed, no raising hundreds of thousands of dollars for charity. Next to the people who do these big things we often feel so very small and weak. In the end though, it's not the moments of greatness that count, but every little bit.
The people I truly admire and look up to are my ordinary sisters. You know the ones, the people who just quietly get on with their lives - you're probably one of them. We have to fight against the world every step of the way. The world that tells us that we have to be something extraordinary if we are to be anything at all. So often we can feel discouraged as days melt into weeks, and months and years with little more to show on the outside than all the signs of our battle fatigue - wrinkles and love handles and sagging bits. But what's on the inside? What really counts is every little step we take forward. We're not called to account for where we started on our life's journey, or for where we finished according to the worlds' standards. The true measure of our success is every little bit.
Perhaps you're wondering what on earth I'm talking about. I mean every smile that wanted to be a frown, every hug that wanted to be a slap across the face, every tear we cry for someone else, every gift that we wanted to keep for ourselves, every moment of time given away instead of hoarded for "me" time (yes, I know we all need time to recharge alone, but we also learn that some days the time we have to give someone else is more important than time for ourselves) - all these small victories in the battle against ourselves accumulate over time to create true greatness. The measure of our success is not how we compare to other people - it is how we compare to ourselves yesterday, two weeks ago, three months ago, five years ago...
Reality teaches us that we will fail, we will be inadequate, we will get discouraged and downtrodden. There will be days when we go backwards, but as long as the sum of our journey is moving forwards, that's what counts. Every little bit. Every moment that we admit that we were wrong is a step forward. Every time we bite our tongue instead of chewing off someone's ear is a step forward. Every time we hold our ground with those stubborn little people in our lives is a step forward. Truly, these little things are not so little. The struggle to overcome self in a world that promotes "number one" is not to be underestimated. Yet, we can do all things through Christ who strengthens us.
So, my dear sisters (oh, all right! and brothers, too) everywhere, by all means be ready to acknowledge the dark and ugly parts of yourself, and be ready to admit when you are wrong, but when you feel discouraged - when you feel like you're stuck, just remember, moments of outward greatness are insignificant compared to every little bit of your life.
Some of us have the close bonds of shared experience - for some it is chronic illness, for others marriage challenges, yet others share the experience of staring into the abyss of mental breakdown. But even for those who haven't (yet) faced these "big" things, we all share the experience of the daily grind. I believe we have all known at times (unless we are truly living in fantasy land) the discouragement of (many) failure(s), the sense of inadequacy to simply live our day-to-day lives. I think every one of us has been overwhelmed at times by the unbending years that stretch both before and behind us, burdened by a feeling of chronic underachievement.
We live in a world that admires only big things and flamboyant achievements. Most of my sisters won't do anything spectacular in their lives. No solo trips around the world, no raising fourteen children single-handed, no raising hundreds of thousands of dollars for charity. Next to the people who do these big things we often feel so very small and weak. In the end though, it's not the moments of greatness that count, but every little bit.
The people I truly admire and look up to are my ordinary sisters. You know the ones, the people who just quietly get on with their lives - you're probably one of them. We have to fight against the world every step of the way. The world that tells us that we have to be something extraordinary if we are to be anything at all. So often we can feel discouraged as days melt into weeks, and months and years with little more to show on the outside than all the signs of our battle fatigue - wrinkles and love handles and sagging bits. But what's on the inside? What really counts is every little step we take forward. We're not called to account for where we started on our life's journey, or for where we finished according to the worlds' standards. The true measure of our success is every little bit.
Perhaps you're wondering what on earth I'm talking about. I mean every smile that wanted to be a frown, every hug that wanted to be a slap across the face, every tear we cry for someone else, every gift that we wanted to keep for ourselves, every moment of time given away instead of hoarded for "me" time (yes, I know we all need time to recharge alone, but we also learn that some days the time we have to give someone else is more important than time for ourselves) - all these small victories in the battle against ourselves accumulate over time to create true greatness. The measure of our success is not how we compare to other people - it is how we compare to ourselves yesterday, two weeks ago, three months ago, five years ago...
Reality teaches us that we will fail, we will be inadequate, we will get discouraged and downtrodden. There will be days when we go backwards, but as long as the sum of our journey is moving forwards, that's what counts. Every little bit. Every moment that we admit that we were wrong is a step forward. Every time we bite our tongue instead of chewing off someone's ear is a step forward. Every time we hold our ground with those stubborn little people in our lives is a step forward. Truly, these little things are not so little. The struggle to overcome self in a world that promotes "number one" is not to be underestimated. Yet, we can do all things through Christ who strengthens us.
So, my dear sisters (oh, all right! and brothers, too) everywhere, by all means be ready to acknowledge the dark and ugly parts of yourself, and be ready to admit when you are wrong, but when you feel discouraged - when you feel like you're stuck, just remember, moments of outward greatness are insignificant compared to every little bit of your life.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Grace Is Not A Rubbish Bin
I often hear Christians talk about grace. Sadly, there are times when it seems to be brought up as a justification for doing the wrong thing. While grace does cover our sins, I think we Christians must take care not to use grace as an excuse for all our downfalls or a license to carry on our lives, unchanging.
Grace is not a rubbish bin for us to put in a corner and throw all of our spiritual garbage into. Nor is it a magic lamp that will exempt us from the consequences of our mistakes. Grace is a beautiful gift from the Creator Himself which deserves a place of honour in our homes. It is not the "too-hard-basket" where we put all the things that need to change, but require a lot of hard work. Rather, the magnitude and preciousness of this gift should drive us to grow spiritually far beyond what we would be humanly capable of.
Too often, by our words or actions, we can find ourselves treating Christ's perfect and immeasurable sacrifice with contempt. Grace deserves a place on the mantelpiece, not under the kitchen sink.
Grace is not a rubbish bin for us to put in a corner and throw all of our spiritual garbage into. Nor is it a magic lamp that will exempt us from the consequences of our mistakes. Grace is a beautiful gift from the Creator Himself which deserves a place of honour in our homes. It is not the "too-hard-basket" where we put all the things that need to change, but require a lot of hard work. Rather, the magnitude and preciousness of this gift should drive us to grow spiritually far beyond what we would be humanly capable of.
Too often, by our words or actions, we can find ourselves treating Christ's perfect and immeasurable sacrifice with contempt. Grace deserves a place on the mantelpiece, not under the kitchen sink.
Monday, August 17, 2009
Comparison Paralysis
One day, I hope I will get through an entire day without concerning myself about how other people are living their lives. I think the temptation to compare ourselves with others leaks into every aspect of our lives if we are honest with ourselves.
It can seem harmless enough - looking for a benchmark to measure our own or our children's progress. The reality, though, is that comparisons are paralysing.
If I decide that - despite all my shortcomings - I am feeding my children better than Betty, teaching my children better than Sally, disciplining my children better than Mary, and having more fun with my children than Lucy (you may imagine that Lucy is not much fun to be around at all!) - then I give myself a big old pat on the back and don't look at where I can and should change. I become paralysed by self-congratulation.
On the other hand, if all I can see is that Betty is teaching her children three languages; Mary has never let any artificial ingredient pass the lips of her five little treasures, ever; Sally sings songs and plays games with her children every day; and Lucy has certainly never let her children whine or scream - then I become paralysed by a sense of hopelessness because I can't hope to live up to those kinds of standards.
Most of us want to do the best we can with what we have, whether we have children or not. While we can learn and discern - learn from the successes and failures of those around us, and discern that certain practices are not right or wise - it is destructive to "compare ourselves among ourselves".
The measure of success is not where we are, but where we're going. Comparison paralysis is one of the most effective ways to stop us dead in our tracks - either through self-satisfaction or discouragement. Either because we see where we are right now as perfectly adequate (because others are so far behind us that we must be doing well), or because our destination seems unattainable (because others are so far ahead of us that we couldn't possibly catch up).
We can only live the life that we have been given. If we're busy watching where other people are going, we're sure to stumble or come to a complete stop. Looking out for the mistakes or successes of those around us simply blinds us to our own faults. My goal, when my stupid mind starts critiquing others, is to turn that critique inwards and ask myself - what insecurities and sins am I trying to hide in myself? If someone else's parenting style upsets me, it's a very loud alarm bell that I need to start paying a lot more attention to my personal inconsistencies. On the other hand, if I get totally discouraged because someone else seems to have it all together, then I need to examine whether my priorities are in keeping with my circumstances (teaching three languages is not in keeping with my present circumstances, but I certainly congratulate anyone out there who is teaching their kids three languages!). I also need to examine how much my priorities are being driven by concern about my image.
I truly believe that feeling self-satisfied and feeling inadequate are both forms of pride. Self-satisfaction reflects pride in doing better than someone else; a sense of inadequacy reflects the wounded pride of not living up to the standard we feel we should be able to achieve (go ahead, disagree with me!).
It's only natural as human beings that we will feel self-satisfied at times, and inadequate at other times. True satisfaction comes from knowing that we are working with what God gives us to grow; a sense of inadequacy can spur us on to work harder, reach higher, and depend on God to fill in the many gaps.
Instead of looking at the lives of others as a benchmark for my own success, I am trying to admire the admirable, and encourage and facilitate the growth of others by the way I live (easier said than done!!) and relate to my fellow human beings. Life isn't a race to the finish with one winner and a whole bunch of losers. The destination itself is the goal, not being the first or the best person to get there. If we let comparison paralysis take over, we won't get there at all, but if we focus on that end goal and a desire for everyone to reach it, we might even find ourselves helping others to get there as well.
It can seem harmless enough - looking for a benchmark to measure our own or our children's progress. The reality, though, is that comparisons are paralysing.
If I decide that - despite all my shortcomings - I am feeding my children better than Betty, teaching my children better than Sally, disciplining my children better than Mary, and having more fun with my children than Lucy (you may imagine that Lucy is not much fun to be around at all!) - then I give myself a big old pat on the back and don't look at where I can and should change. I become paralysed by self-congratulation.
On the other hand, if all I can see is that Betty is teaching her children three languages; Mary has never let any artificial ingredient pass the lips of her five little treasures, ever; Sally sings songs and plays games with her children every day; and Lucy has certainly never let her children whine or scream - then I become paralysed by a sense of hopelessness because I can't hope to live up to those kinds of standards.
Most of us want to do the best we can with what we have, whether we have children or not. While we can learn and discern - learn from the successes and failures of those around us, and discern that certain practices are not right or wise - it is destructive to "compare ourselves among ourselves".
The measure of success is not where we are, but where we're going. Comparison paralysis is one of the most effective ways to stop us dead in our tracks - either through self-satisfaction or discouragement. Either because we see where we are right now as perfectly adequate (because others are so far behind us that we must be doing well), or because our destination seems unattainable (because others are so far ahead of us that we couldn't possibly catch up).
We can only live the life that we have been given. If we're busy watching where other people are going, we're sure to stumble or come to a complete stop. Looking out for the mistakes or successes of those around us simply blinds us to our own faults. My goal, when my stupid mind starts critiquing others, is to turn that critique inwards and ask myself - what insecurities and sins am I trying to hide in myself? If someone else's parenting style upsets me, it's a very loud alarm bell that I need to start paying a lot more attention to my personal inconsistencies. On the other hand, if I get totally discouraged because someone else seems to have it all together, then I need to examine whether my priorities are in keeping with my circumstances (teaching three languages is not in keeping with my present circumstances, but I certainly congratulate anyone out there who is teaching their kids three languages!). I also need to examine how much my priorities are being driven by concern about my image.
I truly believe that feeling self-satisfied and feeling inadequate are both forms of pride. Self-satisfaction reflects pride in doing better than someone else; a sense of inadequacy reflects the wounded pride of not living up to the standard we feel we should be able to achieve (go ahead, disagree with me!).
It's only natural as human beings that we will feel self-satisfied at times, and inadequate at other times. True satisfaction comes from knowing that we are working with what God gives us to grow; a sense of inadequacy can spur us on to work harder, reach higher, and depend on God to fill in the many gaps.
Instead of looking at the lives of others as a benchmark for my own success, I am trying to admire the admirable, and encourage and facilitate the growth of others by the way I live (easier said than done!!) and relate to my fellow human beings. Life isn't a race to the finish with one winner and a whole bunch of losers. The destination itself is the goal, not being the first or the best person to get there. If we let comparison paralysis take over, we won't get there at all, but if we focus on that end goal and a desire for everyone to reach it, we might even find ourselves helping others to get there as well.
Monday, August 10, 2009
In Sickness And In Health
Recently, while I was browsing through some old photos, I came across some of Angelina that made me cry. They weren't cute or endearing, they were downright painful to see. These were photos of her eczema that I had sent to a friend in the hope that this friend might be able to suggest something we could do for her.
Seeing those photos again was both shocking and encouraging. Shocking because it hit me for the first time just how much our little girl suffered for months on end. Encouraging because I am SOOOO thankful that we are not in that place any more. Now, the eczema covers perhaps 5% of her body, then it was more like 90%.
Anyone who has never had an itchy rash simply can't imagine what it's like. If you haven't experienced it, you can't possibly fathom the agony of itching so intense that you are willing to take almost any pain just to have a few moment's relief from that itch.
Likewise I can't imagine what it is like to have a child with some other chronic illness. Although it would be foolish for me to think that I understand what it would be like to have a child with cancer or Downs syndrome or diabetes, or any number of other conditions, I believe that there is some common ground when you have suffered through broken nights and agonising days with a child limited by pain or disability. I believe that there are lessons we can learn together for the sake of our beloved children.
When we experience (as so many of us do in one way or another) being unable to offer our child relief from their grief or pain or frustration, we naturally want to protect them from any other pain or suffering. We want to wrap them up in every possible comfort to compensate for our powerlessness. We want to shelter them from every external frustration and inconvenience to make up for the fact that there is NOTHING we can do to stop or control that inner pain. Those who have been there will understand exactly what I mean when I say that that NOTHING, that complete and utter helplessness, can become the prison of a parent's worst nightmares.
However, in those days of darkness, I truly believe that in order to become our children's allies and not their enemies we must not protect and shelter them as we so desperately desire. OF COURSE we should always offer the comfort and shelter or our unconditional love, but that same love must still teach them the immovable and unchanging standards of right and wrong.
When a suffering child lashes out physically or verbally at others, our temptation as parents is to make an exception to our own standards - "Michael was just frustrated because no one could understand him, that's why he punched his little sister in the face"; "Annabelle is in a lot of pain, I can't blame her for cursing the nurse who was taking her blood"; "People call Jennifer an idiot all the time, so it's fair enough for her to call her teacher an idiot". I am NOT suggesting that we shouldn't allow our children to express their pain, but if we allow them to express pain in a way that is deliberately and consciously hurtful to others, we are robbing them of a tremendous gift.
"What is she on about?" I can hear you ask! Only this: in hindsight, I can see that the experience of suffering has left our Angelina with a legacy of empathy, hope and patience. Don't get me wrong, we are FAR from the perfect parents, and Angelina is by no means the model child. We DID make too many allowances for her in our moments of weakness. However, our overall goal was to teach her to manage, and grow from, her pain and frustration. While we would be deceiving ourselves to claim 100% success, I can see that these experiences have left a positive mark on her character. We can see now that Angelina doesn't give up straight away when a task gets too hard - some of this is personality, of course - but I think her experience of pushing through pain in the real world (not in a parentally created padded cell) contributed to her spirit of endurance now.
I'd just like to encourage all the parents out there to keep the end goal in mind when your children are in distress. While we don't want our children to suffer unreasonable pain, I think it's worth pausing for a moment before we reach for the panadol or ice cream or remote control - a few of the quick ways of easing our child's suffering or distracting them from sadness, anger or frustration. When we instantly remove mild pain or distract them from minor emotional distress we may be robbing our children of the gift of resilience. Our goal for our children is surely that they find true joy and satisfaction in life, even during unfavourable or downright horrible circumstances that are completely out of their control. We want to encourage that strength of character only born through suffering - the strength of character that will enable them to stand up for truth and right, even when the consequences may be pain or even death. I would rather teach my children to die for what is right than to simply survive at all costs.
If we teach our children, by simply rescuing them from all suffering, that happiness and joy come from the outside, we leave them utterly helpless against the future storms that will rage against them in this increasingly toxic world. On the other hand, if we teach our children to face suffering with courage, dignity and hope, we equip them to be a shining light in the darkness of an increasingly immoral world. We help them build the inner strength that allows them to live this temporary life with integrity, looking forward to an unimaginably beautiful eternal future reality.
Allowing our children to suffer is an incredibly difficult and often discouraging road to walk, but our pledge to our children should be as it is to our husbands and wives - to give them our best in sickness and in health, until death us do part. Whatever your personal journey, I pray that God be with you.
Seeing those photos again was both shocking and encouraging. Shocking because it hit me for the first time just how much our little girl suffered for months on end. Encouraging because I am SOOOO thankful that we are not in that place any more. Now, the eczema covers perhaps 5% of her body, then it was more like 90%.
Anyone who has never had an itchy rash simply can't imagine what it's like. If you haven't experienced it, you can't possibly fathom the agony of itching so intense that you are willing to take almost any pain just to have a few moment's relief from that itch.
Likewise I can't imagine what it is like to have a child with some other chronic illness. Although it would be foolish for me to think that I understand what it would be like to have a child with cancer or Downs syndrome or diabetes, or any number of other conditions, I believe that there is some common ground when you have suffered through broken nights and agonising days with a child limited by pain or disability. I believe that there are lessons we can learn together for the sake of our beloved children.
When we experience (as so many of us do in one way or another) being unable to offer our child relief from their grief or pain or frustration, we naturally want to protect them from any other pain or suffering. We want to wrap them up in every possible comfort to compensate for our powerlessness. We want to shelter them from every external frustration and inconvenience to make up for the fact that there is NOTHING we can do to stop or control that inner pain. Those who have been there will understand exactly what I mean when I say that that NOTHING, that complete and utter helplessness, can become the prison of a parent's worst nightmares.
However, in those days of darkness, I truly believe that in order to become our children's allies and not their enemies we must not protect and shelter them as we so desperately desire. OF COURSE we should always offer the comfort and shelter or our unconditional love, but that same love must still teach them the immovable and unchanging standards of right and wrong.
When a suffering child lashes out physically or verbally at others, our temptation as parents is to make an exception to our own standards - "Michael was just frustrated because no one could understand him, that's why he punched his little sister in the face"; "Annabelle is in a lot of pain, I can't blame her for cursing the nurse who was taking her blood"; "People call Jennifer an idiot all the time, so it's fair enough for her to call her teacher an idiot". I am NOT suggesting that we shouldn't allow our children to express their pain, but if we allow them to express pain in a way that is deliberately and consciously hurtful to others, we are robbing them of a tremendous gift.
"What is she on about?" I can hear you ask! Only this: in hindsight, I can see that the experience of suffering has left our Angelina with a legacy of empathy, hope and patience. Don't get me wrong, we are FAR from the perfect parents, and Angelina is by no means the model child. We DID make too many allowances for her in our moments of weakness. However, our overall goal was to teach her to manage, and grow from, her pain and frustration. While we would be deceiving ourselves to claim 100% success, I can see that these experiences have left a positive mark on her character. We can see now that Angelina doesn't give up straight away when a task gets too hard - some of this is personality, of course - but I think her experience of pushing through pain in the real world (not in a parentally created padded cell) contributed to her spirit of endurance now.
I'd just like to encourage all the parents out there to keep the end goal in mind when your children are in distress. While we don't want our children to suffer unreasonable pain, I think it's worth pausing for a moment before we reach for the panadol or ice cream or remote control - a few of the quick ways of easing our child's suffering or distracting them from sadness, anger or frustration. When we instantly remove mild pain or distract them from minor emotional distress we may be robbing our children of the gift of resilience. Our goal for our children is surely that they find true joy and satisfaction in life, even during unfavourable or downright horrible circumstances that are completely out of their control. We want to encourage that strength of character only born through suffering - the strength of character that will enable them to stand up for truth and right, even when the consequences may be pain or even death. I would rather teach my children to die for what is right than to simply survive at all costs.
If we teach our children, by simply rescuing them from all suffering, that happiness and joy come from the outside, we leave them utterly helpless against the future storms that will rage against them in this increasingly toxic world. On the other hand, if we teach our children to face suffering with courage, dignity and hope, we equip them to be a shining light in the darkness of an increasingly immoral world. We help them build the inner strength that allows them to live this temporary life with integrity, looking forward to an unimaginably beautiful eternal future reality.
Allowing our children to suffer is an incredibly difficult and often discouraging road to walk, but our pledge to our children should be as it is to our husbands and wives - to give them our best in sickness and in health, until death us do part. Whatever your personal journey, I pray that God be with you.
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