Parenting
It's interesting when I'm talking to some of my friends regarding some of their troubles.
Time and again, I ask, "Why don't you talk to your parents?" Not that I don't want to share their burdens, just that - the older I get - the more I realise that parents have been there before. Because I have.
And as I share my experience with my girls and my friends, my heart aches as I watch them argue against it the way I did once and watch them turn aside into the mistakes I've made.
Mistakes are good in a weird sense. But they are heartbreaking. Perhaps even more so for the one who stays in the pain and yet can see all sides and what could've been if the person hadn't made that mistake and kept themselves safe from unnecessary pain. (Yes, I used the adjective for a reason.) Makes me aware of what God must feel like us - as He lives in us and has borne the burden and carried the punishment for what we're doing and the pain of it with us. Way more than we humans do, and sometimes we think the way is too hard and the pain is too great - even when it's someone else's and outside of ourselves.
It's a rather unique perspective being halfway between child and adult. You see both the child's point and the parent's more and more clearly. As I grow to the stage where one day, God willing, I will have children of my own, I understand more and more clearly the fears and the worries that the parents have watching over their children, the frantic desire to protect, the desperate longing to do right by them and the fear that they can't, the insecurity that lies in the bosom of every human by human nature. The great sense of overwhelming failure that surely must come when children - also by stubborn human nature - close off and go their own way.
Yes, peoples...it's all true. And by seeing your parents as human, gives you in no way leeway to treat them as equals or pals. God placed them over you by nature and by authority - respect that. But don't expect them to be infallible. And yes - they are human. And feel and think and have been the same place as you. They were kids once - yes, that's true too. :D
The one major excuse/reason I hear off kids is "I don't trust them." "They yell at me for the smallest things." "They'll take me offline." I'm not denying it. Some parents do punish for tiny things. Some will take their kids offline. And I'm certainly not denying that there is a lot of emotional abuse going on out there that parents who are scarred by their own pasts don't even realise.
I ache for those kids. And I ache for those parents. And I try and help the kids without diminishing the role of the parent.
But what about me...? I think of my past, and wonder, is my uncontrolled rage likely to show up in a stressful moment with loads of screaming kids and an untidy house and a hungry husband due home with the tea burning? How am I going to minister to the needs of all? What about my drop in passion to keep going when the pressure rises high? Am I going to be able to meet all my kids' needs?
It would break my heart to watch my kids going around in confusion and realising that somehow, somewhere, I don't touch all their hearts the way I want and pray to. Ministering to other kids the way I feel called to (abused and abandoned) will mean nothing if I can't minister to my own children's hearts.
You know...I'm gonna fail. Big time. I'll lose battles. I'll lose my temper. Some days I won't want to get up and clean the house. I'll miss out on some emotional ministry when I'm trying to work on the physical needs. I'm human.
But I believe in a God Who can make me into the woman and wife and mother I need to be. I believe that God can give me the hearts of my children if I pray and keep my heart on following Him into their hearts. They are His children, after all, before mine. And He is the Creator of the family and the Healer of wounds.
I see so many parents fail. So many faults. And I know that I'm going to be - that I am - packed full of faults too.
One thing I know is that my kids aren't mine, they're God's. And I pray, pray, pray that God will give me my kids' trust.
Not only that, but that I will be teachable, humble, ready to listen, quick to forgive, easily understanding, wise and trustworthy.
That in everything, I will seek God. That He will change and purify me and I will be open to His touch, His change and His will.
Not matter the price. No matter the cost.
I know I'll fail. I know He forgives. And I know, I know, that He makes beauty out of ashes.
That He will heal my mistakes. That He can heal broken parents and broken children and broken trust everywhere if we are ready to take the step of faith - towards Him. Maybe it involves one party exposing themselves to the other to heal - maybe. But be fully aware, fully focused that every step that takes you forward takes you towards God - no matter who else is there. And that every step towards someone else, when in His will and His strength, is taken in faith in Him and for His glory and to grow in Him.
God is worth everything. He gave everything for us. No matter the pain. The price. The cost.
Thoughtfully,
Love in Christ,
Mademoiselle Siân
Time and again, I ask, "Why don't you talk to your parents?" Not that I don't want to share their burdens, just that - the older I get - the more I realise that parents have been there before. Because I have.
And as I share my experience with my girls and my friends, my heart aches as I watch them argue against it the way I did once and watch them turn aside into the mistakes I've made.
Mistakes are good in a weird sense. But they are heartbreaking. Perhaps even more so for the one who stays in the pain and yet can see all sides and what could've been if the person hadn't made that mistake and kept themselves safe from unnecessary pain. (Yes, I used the adjective for a reason.) Makes me aware of what God must feel like us - as He lives in us and has borne the burden and carried the punishment for what we're doing and the pain of it with us. Way more than we humans do, and sometimes we think the way is too hard and the pain is too great - even when it's someone else's and outside of ourselves.
It's a rather unique perspective being halfway between child and adult. You see both the child's point and the parent's more and more clearly. As I grow to the stage where one day, God willing, I will have children of my own, I understand more and more clearly the fears and the worries that the parents have watching over their children, the frantic desire to protect, the desperate longing to do right by them and the fear that they can't, the insecurity that lies in the bosom of every human by human nature. The great sense of overwhelming failure that surely must come when children - also by stubborn human nature - close off and go their own way.
Yes, peoples...it's all true. And by seeing your parents as human, gives you in no way leeway to treat them as equals or pals. God placed them over you by nature and by authority - respect that. But don't expect them to be infallible. And yes - they are human. And feel and think and have been the same place as you. They were kids once - yes, that's true too. :D
The one major excuse/reason I hear off kids is "I don't trust them." "They yell at me for the smallest things." "They'll take me offline." I'm not denying it. Some parents do punish for tiny things. Some will take their kids offline. And I'm certainly not denying that there is a lot of emotional abuse going on out there that parents who are scarred by their own pasts don't even realise.
I ache for those kids. And I ache for those parents. And I try and help the kids without diminishing the role of the parent.
But what about me...? I think of my past, and wonder, is my uncontrolled rage likely to show up in a stressful moment with loads of screaming kids and an untidy house and a hungry husband due home with the tea burning? How am I going to minister to the needs of all? What about my drop in passion to keep going when the pressure rises high? Am I going to be able to meet all my kids' needs?
It would break my heart to watch my kids going around in confusion and realising that somehow, somewhere, I don't touch all their hearts the way I want and pray to. Ministering to other kids the way I feel called to (abused and abandoned) will mean nothing if I can't minister to my own children's hearts.
You know...I'm gonna fail. Big time. I'll lose battles. I'll lose my temper. Some days I won't want to get up and clean the house. I'll miss out on some emotional ministry when I'm trying to work on the physical needs. I'm human.
But I believe in a God Who can make me into the woman and wife and mother I need to be. I believe that God can give me the hearts of my children if I pray and keep my heart on following Him into their hearts. They are His children, after all, before mine. And He is the Creator of the family and the Healer of wounds.
I see so many parents fail. So many faults. And I know that I'm going to be - that I am - packed full of faults too.
One thing I know is that my kids aren't mine, they're God's. And I pray, pray, pray that God will give me my kids' trust.
Not only that, but that I will be teachable, humble, ready to listen, quick to forgive, easily understanding, wise and trustworthy.
That in everything, I will seek God. That He will change and purify me and I will be open to His touch, His change and His will.
Not matter the price. No matter the cost.
I know I'll fail. I know He forgives. And I know, I know, that He makes beauty out of ashes.
That He will heal my mistakes. That He can heal broken parents and broken children and broken trust everywhere if we are ready to take the step of faith - towards Him. Maybe it involves one party exposing themselves to the other to heal - maybe. But be fully aware, fully focused that every step that takes you forward takes you towards God - no matter who else is there. And that every step towards someone else, when in His will and His strength, is taken in faith in Him and for His glory and to grow in Him.
God is worth everything. He gave everything for us. No matter the pain. The price. The cost.
Thoughtfully,
Love in Christ,
Mademoiselle Siân
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Thanks for sharing your thoughts. :)