Monday, May 11, 2020

Shift

Being a parent is endlessly fascinating to me.  You gain comfortable footing only to realize that your good grasp on the season will be short-lived because as is the truth with almost all areas of life - change is inevitable.  

Although mine are mine and yours are yours, there are unshakeable similarities that I believe all parents face, and cheers to those who are open to these pivots as our kids (and we) get older.  

When mine were smaller, the message I received over and over was to soak it all up because these times are fleeting - my gosh, that is true.  I blinked and now I have a 10 year old and an almost 9 year old; there's the 3 year old that lives to wreck shop on a daily basis, and while I'm glad to have a babe still to savor the innocence of toddler life, this post is primarily focused on my older two kids. 

There has been a shift in this last year, and it's been difficult, but welcome.  They're growing up: no more helping them bathe, combing out their hair, and brushing their teeth.  They are each their own person complete with opinions, ideas, and rough edges.  They DESERVE to be parented in a way that fits and suits them individually.  

Here's what I've come to discover: parenting is not a blanket that you unwrap, unfold and cast out over your children in hopes that keeping them under wraps, warm, and protected they'll emerge at 18 full of all their beautiful potential and ready to conquer the world.  Our generation is way more mindful than that, and what we crave with our children is the one thing that takes the most consistent work: relationship. 

Relationship involves relating.  That means as a parent, I have to be willing to lay down my pride and explain things over (kindly) and over (calmly) so that my kids understand the why and not just the why not.  I have to tell stories of my own failures in order for them to see that their Mom is not some unstoppable, perfect force who is always right and they're always wrong - I mess up all the time.  Daily.  And my imperfections allow them to see that it's part of life to fail, be wrong, and apologize.  

Since we began homeschooling last fall I have gotten to know my kids in a different way.  Not that I didn't know who they were before, I had strong ideas of who they were.  But seeing areas in schoolwork, friendships, chores, and sibling relationships where they each succeed and struggle has been wildly eye-opening.  They are similar to Ryan and I, but they are each so different.  Those differences are subtle though, and if I'm not paying attention, I will miss them.  

We are such a distracted culture.  In my opinion, if this current pandemic has had one positive impact, it's been teaching us the value of slowing down.  For the last five or so years a massive emphasis has been put on hustle (thanks for that, Gary V.); and then this last year it's like the brakes were applied and now the focus is on less, slowing down, and being as present as possible.  Those are all fine mantras to believe in, but until you're forced to live in them you don't see the inherent value.  

One of my kid's favorite shows to watch with me is "Survivor", and without a doubt our favorite episode every season is the one where the contestants get to see a loved one from home.  It makes me cry every single time because genuine human emotion is always moving.  This current season is the show's 40th, so they ramped up the prize money, the contestants are all returning champions, and with the loved ones visit, they didn't just bring a spouse, parent or sibling - they brought their entire family.  So when the first contestant was called forward, she dropped to her knees sobbing when her husband AND her two beautiful, blonde babies came out to hold her.  Behind her you could see all the remaining contestents immediately burst into tears knowing what was coming their way when their names were called.  

One contestant with his arm around his fiance explained to the host the joy of that current moment.  He said "...you know, at home there's distractions: phone calls, errands, work emails, and you so rarely get to focus on the value of these relationships.  But out here, when you have nothing, that's all you think about.  And I'm going to leave here a changed person because my values have been shifted."  

That is a major hope for me, for our country, and our world as we get these different restrictions slowly lifted and life goes back to normal.  It won't be like it was before, but I'm hopeful it will have changed for the better.  Not just more accepting of all human beings and the journey we have before us to live well, and not just in loving and treasuring our world because it's the only one we have and we want to be responsible and kind to it.  My hope is that this time will also have given us the gift to be more tuned into ourselves and those close to us in a way that allows deeper relationships to form. 

Having a bigger perspective gives the grind of life purpose.  Because relating to your kids is hard and it's a constant process.  It's reading to them at night even when you're on your period, you're tired, you have 3 different voxer conversations that you haven't listened to, 12 emails that you haven't read and hours worth of social media content to browse.  It's pausing on doing the dishes so you can go into the other room, get down on their eye level and demonstrate how to have a better conflict-resolving conversation so that they don't beat up each other with false ideas of the other person's intentions.  It's continuing to educate myself in scripture and self-assessment so that I don't believe for a second that I'm a finished product, but I continue to be flexible in how God is creating and shaping me from day to day.  

With this shift, as I see them becoming more and more of who they are as a young man and young woman, and less and less of the babies that I nursed, changed, bathed, and rocked - there isn't as much sadness as I thought there would be.  There isn't the clinging to the memories of them as kids with such a heavy heart it feels like I could collapse into tears at the ache of wanting them small again.  Instead, there's incredible hope.  Because as they grow up, there's a growing alongside of me that's happening and it's beautiful.  We're walking this life together, continuing to figure it out, and my time spent with them is causing them to trust me in a way that makes me feel honored and incredibly responsible.  

Relating as a parent means failing - a lot.  And owning up to those failures.  I don't want my children to grow up with a checklist of do's and don'ts - that creates robots who don't have the ability to think and rationalize for themselves.  And whether or not we realize it, the relationship we form with our kids is a massive parallel to how they will view their Father in heaven.  I want them growing up knowing that improvement personally and spiritually is a constant, change is inevitable, and being a better person and making the next right decision is always a possibility.   

My relationship with God is so important to me, and if I can raise my kids to understand the value of having a real, honest, open relationship with Him so that He can pour into their lives and breathe His Holy Spirit into their daily walk - I will have done my part.  Cheers to all parents who are taking this journey one day at a time.  My prayer for myself and others is to have humility to dig deep and hope to light our future.