It's just a season
Parenting moves through season - exhaustion, frustration, sorrow, release.
Or, looking at the good days - snuggles, growth, blossoming, independence.
Each season has both good and bad. (just like real seasons - everything bursting with life, including springtime allergies . . . )
Those early spring days (literally and figuratively) of parenting our first newborn, I remember pacing the floor in tears because he simply would not sleep. And, yet, midday when he did sleep I could hardly put him down. I could stare at him all day. Watching each little twitch of his lip, each rise and fall of his chest, each clench of his fist. I could not take my eyes off him.
I realized in those days how much my parents loved me. I had never understood it before. Parenting brings those moments often, in each season. This place of in between. I can suddenly step back and see what this looked like from a different generational stand point.
Additionally, I realized how much God loves me. The beauty of the gospel message hit home in a way it never could have pre-parenthood. God loved me enough to give up his son - his only son. I comprehended love in a whole new way. I didn't love my child more than my husband, but it was somehow a purer love, a more selfless love, a more self-sacrificing love without even trying. Here he was, a part of me, but outside of me, and in those days I still saw him as an extension of me. I could not yet see ahead to the growth and blossoming and independence.
Parenting an infant, toddler, and preschooler has days of exhaustion and days it tries your patience like nobody's business, but it is a surprisingly short season of parenting, at least in hindsight.
Before we know it the exhaustion diminishes (no not really, you just get used to it, or become caffeine dependent).
Then, on top of perpetual exhaustion you add almost daily frustrations. Kids head into school years and need boundaries and broader horizons. They need security and freedom. They need to explore and stay grounded. And, while their physical growth might settle into a routine, their mental growth seems explosive. By fifth grade, they are mostly smarter than us (at least in terms of planets and state capitols and technology and the names of our bones).
Again, I appreciated my parents in a new way as we entered this stage of parenting. Looking past all the grudges I tucked away for the great injustices of childhood (like early bedtimes and eating gross food and too many chores), I remember the experiences they found for me. Dance, music, travel, science, nature, play. They let my mind absorb and learn and kept me safe. I lived through it, and I hoped the same for my kids.
God's love as we live through the "elementary school" years of our faith is an instructing love. He disciplines, teaches, protects, and matures us through mentors, parents, and His Word. Times He might have seemed unloving or distant were really moments that He stepped back and let me try out my growing independence. I imagine Him restraining Himself from stepping in to a tough situation so I can better learn and grow stronger.
Teen years. How do we even begin to describe them? These "kids" that think they know everything about life and are ready to head out on their own (as long as we are still footing the bill and stocking the fridge).
At first, I thought these would be years of increased discretionary time for me. After all, I don't need to wash their clothes, plan their snacks, pack their backpacks, or schedule their days. But parenting in these autumn years becomes more mentally intensive.
Giving advice without sounding bossy or judgemental.
Letting kids make their own decisions, win or lose, succeed or fail.
Sometimes moving out of the role of most influential person in their lives.
Still very needed for late night talks, security, love, boundaries (but looser), life skills, meals, a safe place, and a sounding board for everything from relationships to school essays.
I carry incredible sympathy and understanding for my mom now. When I think back to the parenting done in anger or the times she seemed distant, I realize she was probably so stressed out and I was clueless to all she had on her plate and was trying to manage. Parenting teens is hard, especially when you also have adult kids and younger kids still to manage.
Winter years of parenting - a whole new discovery as they become fellow adults.
Exhaustion is now chronic (no longer the energetic 20 something of my early parenting years), frustration comes in spurts, sorrow over hard growth points, and then they fully break free.
I need to write my parents a letter. I knew my teen years were sometimes rough, but I'm sure my early adult years weren't much better. Despite marrying young and moving out at 20, I did not appreciate most of what my parents did for me. I was blind to all I put them through and asked of them and all they gave so freely to me. I saw only the arguments, not their pain of letting go.
Stepping back makes me apologize to my parents and my kids. I didn't get it all right. But, God's grace is sufficient, and I'm in this for the long haul. I love the words of George W. Bush to his daughters, "Nothing you do can make me stop loving you, so stop trying."
And, the beautiful truth of God's unfinished work in them that draws me again to be patient - He who began a good work in you will be faithful to complete it. He's not done with them, yet.
Thankfully, He's not done with me either.
Or, looking at the good days - snuggles, growth, blossoming, independence.
Those early spring days (literally and figuratively) of parenting our first newborn, I remember pacing the floor in tears because he simply would not sleep. And, yet, midday when he did sleep I could hardly put him down. I could stare at him all day. Watching each little twitch of his lip, each rise and fall of his chest, each clench of his fist. I could not take my eyes off him.
I realized in those days how much my parents loved me. I had never understood it before. Parenting brings those moments often, in each season. This place of in between. I can suddenly step back and see what this looked like from a different generational stand point.
Additionally, I realized how much God loves me. The beauty of the gospel message hit home in a way it never could have pre-parenthood. God loved me enough to give up his son - his only son. I comprehended love in a whole new way. I didn't love my child more than my husband, but it was somehow a purer love, a more selfless love, a more self-sacrificing love without even trying. Here he was, a part of me, but outside of me, and in those days I still saw him as an extension of me. I could not yet see ahead to the growth and blossoming and independence.
Parenting an infant, toddler, and preschooler has days of exhaustion and days it tries your patience like nobody's business, but it is a surprisingly short season of parenting, at least in hindsight.
Before we know it the exhaustion diminishes (no not really, you just get used to it, or become caffeine dependent).
Then, on top of perpetual exhaustion you add almost daily frustrations. Kids head into school years and need boundaries and broader horizons. They need security and freedom. They need to explore and stay grounded. And, while their physical growth might settle into a routine, their mental growth seems explosive. By fifth grade, they are mostly smarter than us (at least in terms of planets and state capitols and technology and the names of our bones).
Again, I appreciated my parents in a new way as we entered this stage of parenting. Looking past all the grudges I tucked away for the great injustices of childhood (like early bedtimes and eating gross food and too many chores), I remember the experiences they found for me. Dance, music, travel, science, nature, play. They let my mind absorb and learn and kept me safe. I lived through it, and I hoped the same for my kids.
God's love as we live through the "elementary school" years of our faith is an instructing love. He disciplines, teaches, protects, and matures us through mentors, parents, and His Word. Times He might have seemed unloving or distant were really moments that He stepped back and let me try out my growing independence. I imagine Him restraining Himself from stepping in to a tough situation so I can better learn and grow stronger.
At first, I thought these would be years of increased discretionary time for me. After all, I don't need to wash their clothes, plan their snacks, pack their backpacks, or schedule their days. But parenting in these autumn years becomes more mentally intensive.
Giving advice without sounding bossy or judgemental.
Letting kids make their own decisions, win or lose, succeed or fail.
Sometimes moving out of the role of most influential person in their lives.
Still very needed for late night talks, security, love, boundaries (but looser), life skills, meals, a safe place, and a sounding board for everything from relationships to school essays.
I carry incredible sympathy and understanding for my mom now. When I think back to the parenting done in anger or the times she seemed distant, I realize she was probably so stressed out and I was clueless to all she had on her plate and was trying to manage. Parenting teens is hard, especially when you also have adult kids and younger kids still to manage.
Winter years of parenting - a whole new discovery as they become fellow adults.
Exhaustion is now chronic (no longer the energetic 20 something of my early parenting years), frustration comes in spurts, sorrow over hard growth points, and then they fully break free.
I need to write my parents a letter. I knew my teen years were sometimes rough, but I'm sure my early adult years weren't much better. Despite marrying young and moving out at 20, I did not appreciate most of what my parents did for me. I was blind to all I put them through and asked of them and all they gave so freely to me. I saw only the arguments, not their pain of letting go.
Stepping back makes me apologize to my parents and my kids. I didn't get it all right. But, God's grace is sufficient, and I'm in this for the long haul. I love the words of George W. Bush to his daughters, "Nothing you do can make me stop loving you, so stop trying."
And, the beautiful truth of God's unfinished work in them that draws me again to be patient - He who began a good work in you will be faithful to complete it. He's not done with them, yet.
Thankfully, He's not done with me either.
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