Our oldest three girls have been away with grandparents for the weekend, so the Raamonster and I have been home with just Baby. Over those few days we've noticed that we still have to remind her to say please and thank you.
So, we're giving her a bit more encouragement to say them without being reminded by saying "no" to any request not accompanied by a "please", or taking things away when she forgets to say "thank you". This seems to be rectifying the problem very quickly... and with minimal conflict.
In the process, I'm finding I'm paying more attention to how I speak to her. Generally these kinds of situations highlight the fact that I'm not setting the example that I should. Thankfully, I'm actually finding that the habit that I established very early in my days of parenting has stuck. I do say please and thank you... Unfortunately, on the other hand, I often find myself using a tone of voice bordering on whining when the girls haven't been listening to me. Not such a good habit!
Anyway, thinking about all this has reminded me of the importance of treating our children as people from day one. Yes, as a parent I am in authority and they need to learn to do what I ask. BUT, as the adult, I need to set the standard of respect for their personhood. My kids have less authority, but they are not of less value than me as people. How I speak to them sends a message every day about their value as people. Now you may be thinking that saying "please" and "thank you" confuses children because they think you are making a suggestion or that a request is optional. I have a simple solution - if there is a delayed reaction, I simply say (but still hopefully in a kind voice) "that's an instruction, not a request" (even very young children soon learn what that means!).
There are times when a firmer tone of voice or less polite wording is warranted, but overall I think the big thing us parents need to remember is that we're in charge of our children, we are responsible for their well-being, but we are not more important than them... And so, as a loving example to them, we need to mind our manners.
Showing posts with label parenting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label parenting. Show all posts
Sunday, March 2, 2014
Monday, December 24, 2012
What We Should
"With great power comes great responsibility." Remember that saying from Spiderman? (Now there's a movie I plan never to watch again.) Well. It's true, isn't it? And true of being a parent. As parents we have enormous power, and most of us take the responsibilty that goes with it very seriously.
We wonder whether we should make our children practise their music, or let them decide. We ask ourselves whether swimming lessons or ball sports are more important. We agonise over the perfect balance between innocence and being aware of potential dangers in the world around them. We argue back and forth among ourselves over food, screen time, independence, safety, attachment, breastfeeding - in fact, every imaginable facet of parenting becomes subject to a squillion conflicting "rules" dictated to befuddled parents by a myriad of "experts".
Once again, though, we are asking ourselves the Wrong Questions. There is no one authoratitative resource which defines the ideal diet, the perfect balance of extracurricular activities and the exact formula for screen time. In its own unique way, though, the Bible tells us exactly what we should do. The big, central question for every parent, is exactly the same as the big, central question for every human being: "what should I become?" (And, of course, there are a whole bunch of other questions that go along with that, but - interestingly - "should we have pizza for dinner tonight?" is not one of them.)
Being a good parent is all about being a good person. And being a good person is comprehensively defined by the Bible. It starts with realising you can't actually be a good person without God working in your life, front and centre. And then there are a whole pile of principles that apply to every human relationship - including the parent-child relationship. God's definition of Love in 1 Corinthians 13 is a great place to start.
Let me digress a little. We have a bad habit of defining parental success by the outcomes in the lives of our children. Ever heard a parent say something like: "we tried everything to make Johnny stop hitting his sister, but nothing worked"? The implication is that it's our job to make our children do what is right... and that somehow that will turn them into good people. To a limited extent we can control and change our children's behaviour when they're young, but shouldn't our goal be to teach them what is right and what is wrong (including administering painful consequences, to demonstrate clearly that sin causes pain) and hope like mad that they will choose to do what is right? That sounds terrifying, but sooner or later, our children will choose for themselves, whether we like it or not, and if we spent their lives forcing them to do what's right, they may not choose the right so readily as we might hope.
We may do everything humanly possible to be good parents... and have children who grow up to make bad choices and end up in jail. On the other hand, we could be utterly selfish and yet churn out kids who become doctors who choose to give freely of their services in third-world countries. The choices our children ultimately make don't define our success (or failure) as parents. There are countless people who have risen above a horrible upbringing to become outstanding leaders. Unfortunately, the reverse is also true.
Soooo, getting back to the main point, the truest definition of our success (or not) as parents, is whether (or not) we become what we should. It's whether (or not) we do what we should. It's whether (or not) we live as we should. If we are really and truly guided by the principle of loving others as ourselves and God most of all, then the question of how many serves of veges our kids have eaten today fade into insignificance. The right actions will naturally flow from the right frame of mind.
Of course, none of us will ever love our children perfectly in this lifetime, because we are still human. But if we are truly motivated to become what we should, then in the grand scheme of things - regardless of what our children choose to do with their lives - we will truly have succeeded.
We wonder whether we should make our children practise their music, or let them decide. We ask ourselves whether swimming lessons or ball sports are more important. We agonise over the perfect balance between innocence and being aware of potential dangers in the world around them. We argue back and forth among ourselves over food, screen time, independence, safety, attachment, breastfeeding - in fact, every imaginable facet of parenting becomes subject to a squillion conflicting "rules" dictated to befuddled parents by a myriad of "experts".
Once again, though, we are asking ourselves the Wrong Questions. There is no one authoratitative resource which defines the ideal diet, the perfect balance of extracurricular activities and the exact formula for screen time. In its own unique way, though, the Bible tells us exactly what we should do. The big, central question for every parent, is exactly the same as the big, central question for every human being: "what should I become?" (And, of course, there are a whole bunch of other questions that go along with that, but - interestingly - "should we have pizza for dinner tonight?" is not one of them.)
Being a good parent is all about being a good person. And being a good person is comprehensively defined by the Bible. It starts with realising you can't actually be a good person without God working in your life, front and centre. And then there are a whole pile of principles that apply to every human relationship - including the parent-child relationship. God's definition of Love in 1 Corinthians 13 is a great place to start.
Let me digress a little. We have a bad habit of defining parental success by the outcomes in the lives of our children. Ever heard a parent say something like: "we tried everything to make Johnny stop hitting his sister, but nothing worked"? The implication is that it's our job to make our children do what is right... and that somehow that will turn them into good people. To a limited extent we can control and change our children's behaviour when they're young, but shouldn't our goal be to teach them what is right and what is wrong (including administering painful consequences, to demonstrate clearly that sin causes pain) and hope like mad that they will choose to do what is right? That sounds terrifying, but sooner or later, our children will choose for themselves, whether we like it or not, and if we spent their lives forcing them to do what's right, they may not choose the right so readily as we might hope.
We may do everything humanly possible to be good parents... and have children who grow up to make bad choices and end up in jail. On the other hand, we could be utterly selfish and yet churn out kids who become doctors who choose to give freely of their services in third-world countries. The choices our children ultimately make don't define our success (or failure) as parents. There are countless people who have risen above a horrible upbringing to become outstanding leaders. Unfortunately, the reverse is also true.
Soooo, getting back to the main point, the truest definition of our success (or not) as parents, is whether (or not) we become what we should. It's whether (or not) we do what we should. It's whether (or not) we live as we should. If we are really and truly guided by the principle of loving others as ourselves and God most of all, then the question of how many serves of veges our kids have eaten today fade into insignificance. The right actions will naturally flow from the right frame of mind.
Of course, none of us will ever love our children perfectly in this lifetime, because we are still human. But if we are truly motivated to become what we should, then in the grand scheme of things - regardless of what our children choose to do with their lives - we will truly have succeeded.
Monday, July 30, 2012
What Will We Write?
Day after day, we write messages to our children that they will carry into the future. Some are in words, many more are in actions.
They won't necessarily live by what we write. They won't necessarily remember with their minds, but somewhere in the people they become will be a memory of our daily messages.
My oldest isn't even ten yet, so how can I know this? Because I see it in myself, and I see it in the people around me. As adults, we choose our paths through life and our parents deserve neither the credit, nor the blame, for where we land. But. Childhood experiences can either smooth the journey or... "rough" it.
So what will we write?
Will they grow up knowing that anything good is worth working for? Will they grow up believing that mistakes are opportunities? ... Or disasters? Will they wonder why the world is out to get them? ... Or will they recognise that stupidity has a price tag and learn to make better choices next time? Will life be all about them, or all about others? Above all, will they be willing to grow? ...Or will they want to put down roots where they are, as they are, and stay there for the rest of their lives?
Our messages are everywhere. In our expectations. And in our lack of expectations. In our tone of voice. In our silence. Written on our faces. Even if we don't know what we are saying, our kids will.
Do we expect our children to rise to their potential? Or are we happy for them to putter along in a state of mediocrity (for them) because they are "bright" (by the world's standards), content with their feeble efforts at maintaining the status quo. Or, on the other hand, do we try to drag our children up to an impossible standard (for them) because they are "slow" (by the world's standards), never satisfied with their courage and persistence in reaching for an unreasonable goal?
What will we write?
Will we congratulate our children for merely not making trouble and not being "bad"? Or will we teach them to strive for what is good and right? By striving for what is good and right ourselves?
Will our children learn that saying sorry is to be avoided at all costs, because it is an admission of guilt and failure? Or will they learn to own up and say sorry... time after time, if necessary? Will they learn that it is enough that they "didn't mean to", or will they learn to "mean not to"?
We live in a world that will write messages to our children as well.
Will we let our children slide along with the culture and absorb their values from movies and social media because we really can't be bothered to be connected to them? Because we just don't have the time and energy to spare from our own dreams and pursuits to truly plug into their lives?
Whoever we are, wherever we are, this parenting gig is hard, hard, hard work if we care about doing it right. We will write messages to our children, by our presence, or our absence. The question is, what will we write?
They won't necessarily live by what we write. They won't necessarily remember with their minds, but somewhere in the people they become will be a memory of our daily messages.
My oldest isn't even ten yet, so how can I know this? Because I see it in myself, and I see it in the people around me. As adults, we choose our paths through life and our parents deserve neither the credit, nor the blame, for where we land. But. Childhood experiences can either smooth the journey or... "rough" it.
So what will we write?
Will they grow up knowing that anything good is worth working for? Will they grow up believing that mistakes are opportunities? ... Or disasters? Will they wonder why the world is out to get them? ... Or will they recognise that stupidity has a price tag and learn to make better choices next time? Will life be all about them, or all about others? Above all, will they be willing to grow? ...Or will they want to put down roots where they are, as they are, and stay there for the rest of their lives?
Our messages are everywhere. In our expectations. And in our lack of expectations. In our tone of voice. In our silence. Written on our faces. Even if we don't know what we are saying, our kids will.
Do we expect our children to rise to their potential? Or are we happy for them to putter along in a state of mediocrity (for them) because they are "bright" (by the world's standards), content with their feeble efforts at maintaining the status quo. Or, on the other hand, do we try to drag our children up to an impossible standard (for them) because they are "slow" (by the world's standards), never satisfied with their courage and persistence in reaching for an unreasonable goal?
What will we write?
Will we congratulate our children for merely not making trouble and not being "bad"? Or will we teach them to strive for what is good and right? By striving for what is good and right ourselves?
Will our children learn that saying sorry is to be avoided at all costs, because it is an admission of guilt and failure? Or will they learn to own up and say sorry... time after time, if necessary? Will they learn that it is enough that they "didn't mean to", or will they learn to "mean not to"?
We live in a world that will write messages to our children as well.
Will we let our children slide along with the culture and absorb their values from movies and social media because we really can't be bothered to be connected to them? Because we just don't have the time and energy to spare from our own dreams and pursuits to truly plug into their lives?
Whoever we are, wherever we are, this parenting gig is hard, hard, hard work if we care about doing it right. We will write messages to our children, by our presence, or our absence. The question is, what will we write?
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
There is No Cure
Let's be honest with ourselves: there is no cure for bad parenting moments.
The one absolute guarantee of being a parent is that we will stuff up. Sometimes in a really big way. There is no cure. Homeschooling will not cure parents or children of miscommunication, impatience, frustration, or any of the other myriad of relationship enemies every parent and child must face at times.
Nor will sending kids to school shield them from the bad influence of our anger, laziness, selfishness... or in fact any of our character weaknesses.
Let me repeat myself: there is no cure for bad parenting moments. We will damage our children - whether we keep them at home within the loving embrace of family life... or whether we send them out as intrepid voyagers into the big, wide world.
So often we fool ourselves with the idea that there is a formula that will give our children the perfect lives... That if we send them to the right schools (or don't send them to school), control every aspect of their lives (or give them the freedom to discover the world for themselves), etc, etc, that somehow they will turn out "right".
The problem with all the formulae ever devised is that we are imperfect and our children have free will.
Of course there are good ways and bad ways of parenting. Beating children into cowering submission is unlikely to yield a happy result. On the other hand, letting them "express themselves" through tantrums and whining is equally unlikely to bring about success.
If our value as human being is tied up in how our kids "turn out" we are headed for disaster and confusion. A child may become an outstanding citizen despite being brought up by the most horrible and vindictive people on the planet. Or a child may become a cruel psychopath, despite being brought up in a loving but demanding home. To believe that we can control the outcome of our children's lives is to deny our humanity and theirs.
Being effective as parents is about being effective as people. If we live with integrity and honesty, we give our kids the best (although not the only) chance of doing the same. If we live by double-standards in a me-first world, we make it difficult (although not impossible) for our children to walk a path of integrity.
Being a parent is simply about being a person. And there is no cure for that.
The one absolute guarantee of being a parent is that we will stuff up. Sometimes in a really big way. There is no cure. Homeschooling will not cure parents or children of miscommunication, impatience, frustration, or any of the other myriad of relationship enemies every parent and child must face at times.
Nor will sending kids to school shield them from the bad influence of our anger, laziness, selfishness... or in fact any of our character weaknesses.
Let me repeat myself: there is no cure for bad parenting moments. We will damage our children - whether we keep them at home within the loving embrace of family life... or whether we send them out as intrepid voyagers into the big, wide world.
So often we fool ourselves with the idea that there is a formula that will give our children the perfect lives... That if we send them to the right schools (or don't send them to school), control every aspect of their lives (or give them the freedom to discover the world for themselves), etc, etc, that somehow they will turn out "right".
The problem with all the formulae ever devised is that we are imperfect and our children have free will.
Of course there are good ways and bad ways of parenting. Beating children into cowering submission is unlikely to yield a happy result. On the other hand, letting them "express themselves" through tantrums and whining is equally unlikely to bring about success.
If our value as human being is tied up in how our kids "turn out" we are headed for disaster and confusion. A child may become an outstanding citizen despite being brought up by the most horrible and vindictive people on the planet. Or a child may become a cruel psychopath, despite being brought up in a loving but demanding home. To believe that we can control the outcome of our children's lives is to deny our humanity and theirs.
Being effective as parents is about being effective as people. If we live with integrity and honesty, we give our kids the best (although not the only) chance of doing the same. If we live by double-standards in a me-first world, we make it difficult (although not impossible) for our children to walk a path of integrity.
Being a parent is simply about being a person. And there is no cure for that.
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Purposeful Parenting
If I could give my younger self one piece of advice, it would be to "be intentional" as a Mum. Of course, my younger self (similar to my current self) would probably arc up and ask what made me think she was just bumbling along without a direction and purpose. I still wish I could say it to her, though.
It's only recently that I've "gotten" that the little, everyday decisions all add up to an enormous future. Three times now, I've had a child hit about two years old and been suddenly overwhelmed with the enormity of the task of teaching them ... everything.
It's only with the Baby that I realized that learning how to treat other people begins at birth. I allowed three young babies to claw at my face and pull my hair. By the fourth it finally occurred to me that "unteaching" a toddler these habits was a lot harder than gradually setting reasonable boundaries for a baby from the start (e.g. gently taking her hand away and saying "that hurts Mummy" when she got too rough in her "explorations" of my face and hair).
That's just one small part of the big picture, of course. I'm not just talking about hair-pulling and pinching. I'm talking about having a plan (and I don't mean a detailed chart with daily goals and hundreds of bullet points - although if that's what moves you, don't let disorganized me put you off!) for where we're taking these kids. And then actually acting on that plan.
Theoretically, I guess, most of us Mums don't have a plan for our children to become helpless leeches... but we act like we do! (OK, so maybe it's just me who sighs and puts away the toys and sweeps up the crumbs and takes the bikes off the driveway because that's easier than having a "discussion" with a nine or seven or five-year-old about why they should do it. Or, even worse, having to teach them how to clean up properly... I know, I know - I'm a homeschool Mum, I'm meant to love teaching my kids stuff!)
Theoretically, we don't have a plan for our eldest child to be terrified of ever making a mistake ever (did I say ever?) . But we act like we do... Or am I the only one who circled (in red pen) every spelling mistake her five-year-old made when writing a story about "The volcano and the secret creatures" (yep, I've still got the story to prove it) - written off her own bat - complete with pictures of burnt up skeletons of the birds which didn't escape the raging inferno of the volcano?
Theoretically, we don't plan for our children to grow up believing that the louder you yell, the more likely you are to get your way. But we act like we do... Or am I also the only one who tells the older siblings to leave the baby alone when she screams ... without actually finding out what it was all about (like, is she screaming because her sister took back something she snatched from them?)?
So now (now that I'm becoming the magazine-cover-type mother with never a hair out of place, and definitely not even the slightest hint of being frazzled) I'm giving myself thinking space. I'm stopping to breathe, and to ask myself - am I actually living out my plan... or am I just reacting again?
OK, I know that sometimes life is so suffocating you can't seem to take a breath. Sometimes I'm just survival parenting. But I've discovered even in those moments there is the potential for better. Better might mean crying in front of the kids instead of screaming at them. Better might mean saying sorry when I "lose it"... And saying it again, and again... and again. Better might mean pasting on a smile over the headache (not pretending the pain isn't there, but saying "sweetie, my head is really hurting, but I'm still happy to see you this morning.").
So what's my plan? To live a life of growth. To infuse my kids lives with joy and hope and love. To teach them that there is Someone infinitely bigger, stronger and "lovinger" than me who they can turn to any time - especially when Mummy has a heachache. To admit my mistakes so they can learn to admit theirs. To be willing to let go of everything I hold dear in order to hold onto something infinitely more precious. To live for God so our girls can learn to live for Him too.
That's my plan, time to go and live it.
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.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Decluttering
OK, so this is the time of year for deep contemplation for me. (The rest of the year I don't do much thinking at all!) I have a compulsive tendency to declutter our house on a regular basis. But right now it's time to declutter my life.
I've been spurred on by what may seem an unrelated experience. Library story time. It's been a couple of years now since I attended library story time since Miss Curie has really outgrown it and - well, there are so many other things to do during the week. I was shocked at the chaos that greeted us at the library. Almost all the people there - adults and children alike - were carrying on conversations as if there wasn't a poor young lady trying to read to an undisciplined group of children. Kids were wandering around, fighting unchecked and apparently unnoticed. When I asked the librarian about it later she said that this is what it's like every week now.
So what on earth does this have to do with mental decluttering? It really drove home to me how socially acceptable it is becoming to look out for number one. It really drove home to me how rapidly our level of concern for our fellow human beings is degenerating. It really drove home to me again how disconnected we are becoming from one another.
It got me thinking about how I spend my time each day, and really intensified my urgency to focus on character in my girls. I spend way too much time and energy on selfish pursuits. If I let myself continue on that path the outlook for my girls is grim. If they don't see me sacrificing my wants for the greater good, they're not likely to go out looking to learn it elsewhere.
The pressure as mothers is to give our children "the best". (OK, I know I'm repeating myself, but repetition IS a great form of emphasis.) What we get duped into thinking is that a never-ending whirl of extra-curricular activities is what is "best". We start to truly believe that the important thing for our childrens' futures is to achieve a particular academic level (preferably well above the average for their age) along with a mile-long list of skills ranging from tying shoelaces to speaking several languages fluently. I've jumped on that bandwagon many times. There are many things I passionately want to teach my children. Of itself I don't think this is a bad thing, butI can see I've just got to keep a steady focus on what will see them through any coming storm. The extra-curricular activities truly are extras that need to fit in around the business of real living.
The most important thing is to ground my girls firmly in faith, hope and love. These are not sideshows - every activity, however exciting or mundane - needs to revolve around these principles.
So what does it look like to focus on character? For me, it means slowing down and paying attention. It means not ignoring one sister hitting the other on the head in frustration. It means not pretending not to see when The Chatterbox defies orders and pops out of bed for a play. It means not being too busy to answer questions about why we have standards for how we treat others. It means not being too tired to guide a reluctant child through writing a letter to someone who needs encouragement. It means not squashing the creative spirit of Miss Curie because it's just too much hard work to guide her ideas towards something productive.
I get tired just thinking about it. That's where I need to give up some of the things that I like to do in order to stay committed to my number one responsibility. Some of the sewing projects may gather dust on my desk for years to come. I may never find the time to buy a perfect matching set of glasses to replace the many that have broken in the last eight years. I might not get all my garlic planted before May. Trivial things, but hard to give up because I'm selfish. If I remember where we're headed and Who we're trying to honour it doesn't get easy, but it does get worth it. Dresses and glasses and gardens will all pass in time. Character lasts. Too often in the battle for our attention the trivialities win. Today, in this house, character wins. The challenge is to make sure it wins every day.
I've been spurred on by what may seem an unrelated experience. Library story time. It's been a couple of years now since I attended library story time since Miss Curie has really outgrown it and - well, there are so many other things to do during the week. I was shocked at the chaos that greeted us at the library. Almost all the people there - adults and children alike - were carrying on conversations as if there wasn't a poor young lady trying to read to an undisciplined group of children. Kids were wandering around, fighting unchecked and apparently unnoticed. When I asked the librarian about it later she said that this is what it's like every week now.
So what on earth does this have to do with mental decluttering? It really drove home to me how socially acceptable it is becoming to look out for number one. It really drove home to me how rapidly our level of concern for our fellow human beings is degenerating. It really drove home to me again how disconnected we are becoming from one another.
It got me thinking about how I spend my time each day, and really intensified my urgency to focus on character in my girls. I spend way too much time and energy on selfish pursuits. If I let myself continue on that path the outlook for my girls is grim. If they don't see me sacrificing my wants for the greater good, they're not likely to go out looking to learn it elsewhere.
The pressure as mothers is to give our children "the best". (OK, I know I'm repeating myself, but repetition IS a great form of emphasis.) What we get duped into thinking is that a never-ending whirl of extra-curricular activities is what is "best". We start to truly believe that the important thing for our childrens' futures is to achieve a particular academic level (preferably well above the average for their age) along with a mile-long list of skills ranging from tying shoelaces to speaking several languages fluently. I've jumped on that bandwagon many times. There are many things I passionately want to teach my children. Of itself I don't think this is a bad thing, butI can see I've just got to keep a steady focus on what will see them through any coming storm. The extra-curricular activities truly are extras that need to fit in around the business of real living.
The most important thing is to ground my girls firmly in faith, hope and love. These are not sideshows - every activity, however exciting or mundane - needs to revolve around these principles.
So what does it look like to focus on character? For me, it means slowing down and paying attention. It means not ignoring one sister hitting the other on the head in frustration. It means not pretending not to see when The Chatterbox defies orders and pops out of bed for a play. It means not being too busy to answer questions about why we have standards for how we treat others. It means not being too tired to guide a reluctant child through writing a letter to someone who needs encouragement. It means not squashing the creative spirit of Miss Curie because it's just too much hard work to guide her ideas towards something productive.
I get tired just thinking about it. That's where I need to give up some of the things that I like to do in order to stay committed to my number one responsibility. Some of the sewing projects may gather dust on my desk for years to come. I may never find the time to buy a perfect matching set of glasses to replace the many that have broken in the last eight years. I might not get all my garlic planted before May. Trivial things, but hard to give up because I'm selfish. If I remember where we're headed and Who we're trying to honour it doesn't get easy, but it does get worth it. Dresses and glasses and gardens will all pass in time. Character lasts. Too often in the battle for our attention the trivialities win. Today, in this house, character wins. The challenge is to make sure it wins every day.
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Another Secret of Time
We've been going to the pool a little more often now that it's been HOT. I've been amazed to see Miss Curie and Angelina are learning to swim after just five lessons at $2 each a year ago, and one free lesson this year. And even Chatterbox is blowing bubbles.
Do I have brilliantly talented children? No, not really. (Of course, I think they're brilliant because I'm their Mum, but if I'm being objective about it they're not overly sporty.) Have I been teaching them to swim myself? Well, not exactly.
And here we have the second Secret of Time that I'm discovering (only I guess it's not a secret now that I'm telling you). I'm sure many other experienced parents already know it well. If I'd spent bucketloads of money on swimming lessons the girls would probably be a bit better at swimming, but my time just being in the pool with them (and not a lot of time, at that) has achieved almost as much as several hundred dollars.
Now, my point is not to say that swimming lessons are a waste, and this is really not about money either. The great revelation to me has been just how much my time can teach my children. I have occasionally shown the girls how to blow bubbles or given Chatterbox a dunking, and the Raamonster has been involved with giving them rides on his back and getting them to jump to him. Beyond that, we really haven't set out to teach the girls to swim. It seems that just being there, in the water - talking, playing, and admiring their little achievements - was enough.
I don't like the term "quality time" because it usually implies that a little bit of time doing something big is what children need. I think that the evidence of many divided families shows that more time doing little things is more valuable in the long run. I will qualify that, though. In my experience, my time with the girls does'n't "count" for anything if I'm not mentally and emotionally present. Chatterbox doesn't get her "fix" from sitting on my lap while I'm surfing the net. Likewise with the Raamonster.
Well, I could blather on for ages, but my delightful little Angelina is reading a story (she's just learning to read), so I'd better practise what I'm preaching and give her some time!
Do I have brilliantly talented children? No, not really. (Of course, I think they're brilliant because I'm their Mum, but if I'm being objective about it they're not overly sporty.) Have I been teaching them to swim myself? Well, not exactly.
And here we have the second Secret of Time that I'm discovering (only I guess it's not a secret now that I'm telling you). I'm sure many other experienced parents already know it well. If I'd spent bucketloads of money on swimming lessons the girls would probably be a bit better at swimming, but my time just being in the pool with them (and not a lot of time, at that) has achieved almost as much as several hundred dollars.
Now, my point is not to say that swimming lessons are a waste, and this is really not about money either. The great revelation to me has been just how much my time can teach my children. I have occasionally shown the girls how to blow bubbles or given Chatterbox a dunking, and the Raamonster has been involved with giving them rides on his back and getting them to jump to him. Beyond that, we really haven't set out to teach the girls to swim. It seems that just being there, in the water - talking, playing, and admiring their little achievements - was enough.
I don't like the term "quality time" because it usually implies that a little bit of time doing something big is what children need. I think that the evidence of many divided families shows that more time doing little things is more valuable in the long run. I will qualify that, though. In my experience, my time with the girls does'n't "count" for anything if I'm not mentally and emotionally present. Chatterbox doesn't get her "fix" from sitting on my lap while I'm surfing the net. Likewise with the Raamonster.
Well, I could blather on for ages, but my delightful little Angelina is reading a story (she's just learning to read), so I'd better practise what I'm preaching and give her some time!
Monday, January 12, 2009
Guilt and Getting Over Ourselves
I have a confession to make - I don't read Chatterbox three books a day. Some days I don't even read her one! Shhh - don't tell Mem Fox, will you?
This post has been rolling around in my head for ages. I forgot to put the bread in the oven earlier, so now, while I'm up waiting for the bread to cook, I figured I might as well spit it out.
Mem Fox is not the only person out there with great ideas about Stuff You Should Do With Your Kids. And don't get me wrong, I'm all for reading to children. I'm also all for singing to them, and teaching them a language, and getting them out in the garden, and taking them for walks, and cooking with them, and teaching them table manners, and early potty training (or, even better, elimination communication), and extended breast-feeding, and large families, and praying together, and eating meals together, and teaching them to work, and teaching them to manage money from a young age, and teaching them to swim, and getting them involved in team sports, and in serving the community as a family... Need I go on? Do you start to see where I'm going with this?
I have days when I get really weighed down with guilt over all the worthwhile things that I'm not doing with my kids on a regular basis. Let me examine what that guilt is really about. Do I believe that early potty training will have a long-lasting benefit on my child's character and emotional well-being? No. Do I believe that stopping breast-feeding two weeks before Chatterbox turned two is going to substantially limit her potential? No. Do I believe that my children will all drown in the bathtub if they don't learn to swim by the age of eight? No. Do I believe that my children will grow up unable to interact with others if they are not involved in team sports and community service right now? No. If I analyse all those points above, I find the answers are much the same.
So why do I feel guilty? Oh, hang on, it's not really guilt at all, is it? I'm worried about my IMAGE. I want my kids to make ME look good to others! Someone out there is going to think that I've failed because I gave up breastfeeding Miss Curie when she was only thirteen months old. Someone out there will think I'm totally slack for bumming around at home instead of taking the kids swimming. Someone out there will be disgusted that Angelina can't catch a ball. Someone out there will think that I'm doing something really wrong when Chatterbox chucks a wobbly in the supermarket.
WOAH! Back up there! Doesn't it mean my discipline is failing if my kids misbehave? Not necessarily - it means they're human and sometimes think "I want that shiny stuff and I'm gonna get it, and hang the consequences". More or less.
Side note here - I am NOT a perfect parent. I've got lots that needs to change. My discipline DOES often fail. But my kids' behaviour at any given moment is not a barometer of my success or failure as a parent.
I'm not writing this post because I ascribe to the "I'm OK, you're OK, we're all OK" philosophy. NO WAY! Quite the opposite, in fact. It is SO not OK for me to base my parenting decisions on how they make ME look. I need to get over myself. Whatever I do, I'm going to look bad to someone. My decisions as a parent need to be based on solid biblical principles. I need to do what's right because it's what GOD wants and what will build CHARACTER in my children, not because it will make me look good.
The bible is surprisingly devoid of statements along the lines of "thou shalt engage thy child in 4.5 hours of extracurricular activities per week" This "deficit" of specific intstructions doesn't take away from my responsibility as a parent. It adds to my responsibility. I have to make a judgement based on biblical principles as to what are the greatest needs in the lives of my children.
A couple of years ago now we started down the road of trying to track down the cause of Angelina's eczema. In retrospect I would have to say that the harder I tried to fix it, the worse it got. In retrospect, I would also have to say that my search for answers was triggered by FEAR of what other people would think of me if I did "nothing". Looking back I think some of the dietary restrictions exacerbated the problem, possibly due to - *gulp* - malnutrition. I'm not intending to launch into a medical analysis, but that experience was a disturbing example of me putting my personal image ahead of true righteousness and truly responsible parenting.
I guess I don't mind after all if you tell Mem Fox I don't read Chatterbox three books a day. I reckon she'll understand anyway, but even if she doesn't, that's not my problem. Now I'd better be a responsible parent and go to bed so I'm ready to greet Chatterbox with a smile at 6am tomorrow morning.
This post has been rolling around in my head for ages. I forgot to put the bread in the oven earlier, so now, while I'm up waiting for the bread to cook, I figured I might as well spit it out.
Mem Fox is not the only person out there with great ideas about Stuff You Should Do With Your Kids. And don't get me wrong, I'm all for reading to children. I'm also all for singing to them, and teaching them a language, and getting them out in the garden, and taking them for walks, and cooking with them, and teaching them table manners, and early potty training (or, even better, elimination communication), and extended breast-feeding, and large families, and praying together, and eating meals together, and teaching them to work, and teaching them to manage money from a young age, and teaching them to swim, and getting them involved in team sports, and in serving the community as a family... Need I go on? Do you start to see where I'm going with this?
I have days when I get really weighed down with guilt over all the worthwhile things that I'm not doing with my kids on a regular basis. Let me examine what that guilt is really about. Do I believe that early potty training will have a long-lasting benefit on my child's character and emotional well-being? No. Do I believe that stopping breast-feeding two weeks before Chatterbox turned two is going to substantially limit her potential? No. Do I believe that my children will all drown in the bathtub if they don't learn to swim by the age of eight? No. Do I believe that my children will grow up unable to interact with others if they are not involved in team sports and community service right now? No. If I analyse all those points above, I find the answers are much the same.
So why do I feel guilty? Oh, hang on, it's not really guilt at all, is it? I'm worried about my IMAGE. I want my kids to make ME look good to others! Someone out there is going to think that I've failed because I gave up breastfeeding Miss Curie when she was only thirteen months old. Someone out there will think I'm totally slack for bumming around at home instead of taking the kids swimming. Someone out there will be disgusted that Angelina can't catch a ball. Someone out there will think that I'm doing something really wrong when Chatterbox chucks a wobbly in the supermarket.
WOAH! Back up there! Doesn't it mean my discipline is failing if my kids misbehave? Not necessarily - it means they're human and sometimes think "I want that shiny stuff and I'm gonna get it, and hang the consequences". More or less.
Side note here - I am NOT a perfect parent. I've got lots that needs to change. My discipline DOES often fail. But my kids' behaviour at any given moment is not a barometer of my success or failure as a parent.
I'm not writing this post because I ascribe to the "I'm OK, you're OK, we're all OK" philosophy. NO WAY! Quite the opposite, in fact. It is SO not OK for me to base my parenting decisions on how they make ME look. I need to get over myself. Whatever I do, I'm going to look bad to someone. My decisions as a parent need to be based on solid biblical principles. I need to do what's right because it's what GOD wants and what will build CHARACTER in my children, not because it will make me look good.
The bible is surprisingly devoid of statements along the lines of "thou shalt engage thy child in 4.5 hours of extracurricular activities per week" This "deficit" of specific intstructions doesn't take away from my responsibility as a parent. It adds to my responsibility. I have to make a judgement based on biblical principles as to what are the greatest needs in the lives of my children.
A couple of years ago now we started down the road of trying to track down the cause of Angelina's eczema. In retrospect I would have to say that the harder I tried to fix it, the worse it got. In retrospect, I would also have to say that my search for answers was triggered by FEAR of what other people would think of me if I did "nothing". Looking back I think some of the dietary restrictions exacerbated the problem, possibly due to - *gulp* - malnutrition. I'm not intending to launch into a medical analysis, but that experience was a disturbing example of me putting my personal image ahead of true righteousness and truly responsible parenting.
I guess I don't mind after all if you tell Mem Fox I don't read Chatterbox three books a day. I reckon she'll understand anyway, but even if she doesn't, that's not my problem. Now I'd better be a responsible parent and go to bed so I'm ready to greet Chatterbox with a smile at 6am tomorrow morning.
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Consistency is Key?
Since very early in my parenting journey, the phrase "consistency is key" has become a daunting refrain, echoed by many parents along varying stages of their journey - most of them at the end of it, though. (Yes, yes, I know you never stop being a parent, but by "the end" I mean that their kids have left home and are now largely responsible for their own lives).
Every time I think about consistency my stomach knots up, my throat tightens, and my head starts to buzz. I believe these are symptoms of panic. I panic because I know that if consistency is The Key of Competent Parenting, I am an utter failure after a mere six years in the trenches.
Consistency is completely impossible when you suffer from a severe case of "mother brain" (like "pregnant brain", only worse). How on earth can one consistently enforce rules and regulations that retreat to a fuzzy haze of uncertainty mere seconds after being declared? "I think I'm sure I might have told you that if you cut your hair again you wouldn't be allowed to use the scissors again for the rest of the week," somehow lacks conviction.
So what hope, if any, is there for those of us stuck in the doldrums of inconsistency? Or - more to the point - what hope is there for our children?
After pondering this point for some time, and considering the lack of biblical instruction on the Importance of Consistency, I feel reassured that my children are not (yet) doomed to eternal failure.
Certain things are consistent in our household. The Bible is the standard. God's Word is unchanging and absolute truth. Life is not about being good, it's about growing good. As humans we will fail - in the Raamonster household, failure is fairly frequent. Acknowledging our mistakes and our need for God and striving to do better next time, now that is key. Our children need to be allowed to be human too.
When we get lost on our way to an unfamiliar place, most of us don't give up on the whole journey just because we made a wrong turn. Depending on the degree of our error, that wrong turn may have small (being a little bit late if we miss a turn-off) or big (a car accident if we go the wrong way up a one-way street) consequences, but if we are willing to do a course correction, we can still reach our destination. On the other hand, if we keep heading in the wrong direction, we'll never get there.
So, my conclusion is this: there should be consistency in our standards (i.e. at no time ever is it OK to lie) and in our ultimate goal (the glory of God and eternal life for everyone according to His plan). However, by our very nature, our administration of the standards and the goal is doomed to inconsistency (we might be too soft or too hard in dealing out consequences, depending on our mood, the time of the month, how much sleep we've had, etc). That doesn't mean that our children are doomed. It just means that they'll learn to be human just like us.
Every time I think about consistency my stomach knots up, my throat tightens, and my head starts to buzz. I believe these are symptoms of panic. I panic because I know that if consistency is The Key of Competent Parenting, I am an utter failure after a mere six years in the trenches.
Consistency is completely impossible when you suffer from a severe case of "mother brain" (like "pregnant brain", only worse). How on earth can one consistently enforce rules and regulations that retreat to a fuzzy haze of uncertainty mere seconds after being declared? "I think I'm sure I might have told you that if you cut your hair again you wouldn't be allowed to use the scissors again for the rest of the week," somehow lacks conviction.
So what hope, if any, is there for those of us stuck in the doldrums of inconsistency? Or - more to the point - what hope is there for our children?
After pondering this point for some time, and considering the lack of biblical instruction on the Importance of Consistency, I feel reassured that my children are not (yet) doomed to eternal failure.
Certain things are consistent in our household. The Bible is the standard. God's Word is unchanging and absolute truth. Life is not about being good, it's about growing good. As humans we will fail - in the Raamonster household, failure is fairly frequent. Acknowledging our mistakes and our need for God and striving to do better next time, now that is key. Our children need to be allowed to be human too.
When we get lost on our way to an unfamiliar place, most of us don't give up on the whole journey just because we made a wrong turn. Depending on the degree of our error, that wrong turn may have small (being a little bit late if we miss a turn-off) or big (a car accident if we go the wrong way up a one-way street) consequences, but if we are willing to do a course correction, we can still reach our destination. On the other hand, if we keep heading in the wrong direction, we'll never get there.
So, my conclusion is this: there should be consistency in our standards (i.e. at no time ever is it OK to lie) and in our ultimate goal (the glory of God and eternal life for everyone according to His plan). However, by our very nature, our administration of the standards and the goal is doomed to inconsistency (we might be too soft or too hard in dealing out consequences, depending on our mood, the time of the month, how much sleep we've had, etc). That doesn't mean that our children are doomed. It just means that they'll learn to be human just like us.
Monday, September 15, 2008
Stand Up For The TRUTH, Otherwise, Stand Down
Being a mother is a very emotional journey. In my experience, it is made even more emotional and tumultuous by the many highly-charged opinions fired from all directions regarding pretty much every aspect of parenting. We mamas have tremendous power to hurt each other when we fling our emotional baggage at each other.
Don't get me wrong, I believe absolutely in standing up for the truth. What I'm coming to realise is how careful I need to be in defining something as right. Do my beliefs stand up to being tested against the Word of God? Am I giving unsolicited advice from my own overactive brain, or is it grounded in Truth? Yeah, that's right, truth with a capital 'T'.
Let me give an example: I am against immunisation. Why? I believe that trusting the inadequate (immunisations are not guaranteed 100% effective) defenses against disease, manufactured by inadequate human beings, is expressing a lack of faith in God and His supreme design. Hang on, what does the bible say? "Thou shalt not immunise thy children"? Nope. "Thou shalt completely trust in God to heal or prevent every illness or injury without outside intervention"? Nope. I'm still against immunisation, so what's my conclusion?
My conclusion is this: if someone wants my opinion on immunisation, I will give it - VERY carefully and gently (at least, I'll try - after all, I'm not going to get it right every time). If it comes to disagreement, I may challenge other people's views if it is appropriate. If it gets emotional, that's where I'll stand down. That seems like a pretty simple formula, it's the implementation that will be the challenge.
I could give lots of other examples, but I won't. It's so easy for me to hop up on my soapbox and expound on, well, just about anything really, but I really think it's important to stop and think. Oftentimes I'm fuelled by pride. I want to prove without any shadow of a doubt that what I'M doing with MY children is right. Well, here's a wake-up call - it is a 100% guarantee that I'm doing a whole bunch of things WRONG because I'm human, not God!
So here's my plan: before I launch into lecture #3856 on The Correct Method of Parenting, I'm going to ask myself, "Is this God's Truth, or is it my truth?" And then, I'm either going to stand up for the Truth, or I'm going to stand down.
Don't get me wrong, I believe absolutely in standing up for the truth. What I'm coming to realise is how careful I need to be in defining something as right. Do my beliefs stand up to being tested against the Word of God? Am I giving unsolicited advice from my own overactive brain, or is it grounded in Truth? Yeah, that's right, truth with a capital 'T'.
Let me give an example: I am against immunisation. Why? I believe that trusting the inadequate (immunisations are not guaranteed 100% effective) defenses against disease, manufactured by inadequate human beings, is expressing a lack of faith in God and His supreme design. Hang on, what does the bible say? "Thou shalt not immunise thy children"? Nope. "Thou shalt completely trust in God to heal or prevent every illness or injury without outside intervention"? Nope. I'm still against immunisation, so what's my conclusion?
My conclusion is this: if someone wants my opinion on immunisation, I will give it - VERY carefully and gently (at least, I'll try - after all, I'm not going to get it right every time). If it comes to disagreement, I may challenge other people's views if it is appropriate. If it gets emotional, that's where I'll stand down. That seems like a pretty simple formula, it's the implementation that will be the challenge.
I could give lots of other examples, but I won't. It's so easy for me to hop up on my soapbox and expound on, well, just about anything really, but I really think it's important to stop and think. Oftentimes I'm fuelled by pride. I want to prove without any shadow of a doubt that what I'M doing with MY children is right. Well, here's a wake-up call - it is a 100% guarantee that I'm doing a whole bunch of things WRONG because I'm human, not God!
So here's my plan: before I launch into lecture #3856 on The Correct Method of Parenting, I'm going to ask myself, "Is this God's Truth, or is it my truth?" And then, I'm either going to stand up for the Truth, or I'm going to stand down.
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