Proverbs 31:28
Her children rise up and call her blessed..
There was a time that I actually worried that I was spending too much of my time with the boys. I seemed to get the impression from most of the people I was around that every mother deserved to have a life of her own, that being with the children most of the time caused too much dependence from them and that her brain would atrophy in the process. It took me a while to realize that most of my frustrations came from trying to do what I perceived expected from me. One night, all this came to a head after an episode with our oldest two sons (ages 9 and 7 at the time). From my journal:
“What a day!!! I have had a lot of pieces of the puzzle to begin to fit today. It all started this morning (as days usually do) when our oldest son wanted to stay at home from school because of a sore throat (?). I didn’t challenge his excuse, and I went upstairs to work at my desk while he stayed downstairs with our housekeeper to help entertain the “little boys.” In a few minutes I heard a wail. I came down to discover that he had put the youngest son ( 1-year) in the dumbwaiter and sent him down to the basement…with the baby’s hand caught between the dumbwaiter compartment and the wall. By the time I got to them, his chubby little hand was scraped and swollen and the Culprit was trying desperately to shush him from crying. I couldn’t decide which was more urgent, to comfort the baby and make sure his hand wasn’t broken or to choke his big brother. I decided that it would be punishment enough to make the Older One accompany us to the doctor’s office to check it out.
On the ride back from the doctor visit, I found that I had a cocktail mixture of emotions: relief that the hand was fine, hope that no irreparable fears of elevators got planted in the baby’s subconscious, disappointment in our older son’s lack of judgment, and anger that he would have put his little brother at risk… and especially confusion over what this was all about. I kept getting the feeling that there was more than met the eye going on here.
That night, something else happened. The oldest two were showering in our bathroom, and apparently decided to test out my make-up and my good perfume. By this time, my emotions were clear: I was mad! I got the paddle and was ready to let loose on them when the Older got extremely upset (apparently it was Number Two’s idea). I sensed that he needed to talk. So standing in his underwear with his pajamas around his ankles and tears streaming down his cheeks, we ended up discussing what exactly he was feeling inside. Obviously there were things that they needed from me that they weren’t getting. I wrote them down:
1. For me to always go to church with them (in other words, Not stay home to rest)
2. Have something to look forward to on weekends, like having a friend over or going shopping with me, out of town; an occasional ballgame or movie.
3. Have story time or Bible reading every night, snuggled in our bed.
4. For me to be available to study with them, individually and privately, in the afternoons.
What this all boils down to is that what they really want is my participation in every aspect of their lives…their spiritual life, their school life, and their home life. I have come to the conclusion that I need to devote practically every waking minute to them, that I must stay organized enough to have time to spend with them and not have so many things going on that I’m too tired to participate in things. Sounds like I must lay down my life for my children! If I wind up with unappreciative, spoiled brats, then I’m wrong. If I end up with children who will rise up and called me blessed, then I’m doing exactly what God has called me to do. I only have one chance at it. I’m choosing to give it all to them. Somehow, deep in my spirit, I believe I’m making the right choice.”
Two months later, I observed that the plan was working. I found that I was organizing my time better. I felt so much better physically. I didn’t always have that guilty feeling that I had failed to meet the needs of the family. We had maintained the schedule of studying in the afternoons (which was nothing more than calling out a few spelling words, but it was “quality time” with Mom). We read books and/or the Bible before the boys went to bed, and they loved it! I could see them becoming more cooperative.
One day I looked on the bathroom counter, and the toothpaste tube was squeezed from the bottom. I had that moment of inspiration. I thought, “That’s the kind of family I want us to be, one where everyone squeezes the tube from the bottom!”
Pretty trivial, I know, but it was a good word picture. My husband and I were giving a talk at a church once and I’m not sure what our subject was, but when I shared the picture of the toothpaste tube, the audience broke out in spontaneous applause. Steven Covey is right (as expressed in his book, Seven Habits of Highly Effective Families): a family needs a shared goal, a family mission statement that expresses what makes it unique. Getting all seven of us to agree on any one thing has been a challenge to me. As the boys have grown up, with all their individual temperament and personality traits, their personal preferences and diverse needs, the job of keeping us united has been difficult… and time consuming.
Journal Entry:
“Over and over I realize that the secret to good parenting is to zero in on each child individually. That takes time…all your time! But when a child is conceived, your time is no longer your own anyway. Our pastor says that what “rights” we lay down will be returned to us as privileges. I believe that in applying this principle to children, it means that investing time in their development when they need it will result in better-adjusted, self-disciplined, and more self-reliant individuals. Consequently, as they mature, you as a mother will be blessed with more time of your own---fewer trips to the school counselor’s office, fewer discipline problems at home, and moments of quiet and peace rather than anxiety when they are not together with you.”
Now I know: It’s true!
