In a couple of weeks, my youngest turns 13. Which means I will soon be parenting four teenagers. Which means my prayer life is thriving.
As some parents of tweens chatted with my husband and me last week, I recalled some of the best advice given to us for parenting teens: Keep them talking. Keep the relational bridge open.
It’s great advice for all of parenting, right? But at times with each of my kids, that’s required supreme effort.
When my four kids were little and life resembled a 24-hour Bounty commercial, I read a statistic in Parents magazine that something like 78% of new moms, when choosing between sex and sleep, chose sleep.
Um. Duh.
I would say I have been praying for a miracle in one (or more) of my kids for a year now.
But, y’know, it’s probably one of those things where you think, spring feels like a small miracle sometimes. My kids hanging up their towels sometimes feels like a series of miracles. And hey, let’s not forget the miracles God’s doing in me (to the tune of, Wow, when that kid flipped his lid, I didn’t flip mine. Miracle.)
When my son was seven, I’d ask him to clean his room.
Unfortunately, I could come in half an hour later and the place still looked like someone had turned the place upside down and shook it, then sprayed cheese-in-a-can on top.
My mom and I had a good conversation last week–one of those “Oh, that’s how it went down on your side of things” talks.
Groove back with me to around 1993. I’m growing out my formerly-birds-nest bangs. I have braces. Both are just as becoming as they sound. But though there at 13, I’ve been a Christian for eight years, I haven’t been baptized.
Reading Time: 5 minutes
I imagine there’s some parent out there like me right now. Spring weather finally crooks a finger, beckoning our kids outside…but as the end of the school year looms, there’s unfinished schoolwork (or just today’s chores) you’re not actually sure your child will accomplish. Like, ever. Tasks are colliding like an interstate pileup. How do you motivate a child without losing your ever-loving mind?
Well, I left my magic wand in my other computer. But in short, you’re searching for your unique child’s motivation DNA. As you consider how to motivate your child, here are a few thought’s I’m typing for my own sake.
So here’s a question oddly relevant. With tasks you both want to do and don’t, what primarily motivates you to raise your bum from a chair and get ‘er done?
I’m guessing some of your answers, dear readers, fall into categories like these.
Observation: For a long time, I’ve attempted to motivate my kids using the same ways I’m motivated.
Personally, I’m an Enneagram 2 with a huge 3 wing. (IYou may have conflicting feelings about the Enneagram. It’s all the rage lately, drawing both legitimate Christian praise as well as concern. I’ve written about how I personally have employed it as a faith tool to expose some of my core motivations…and sins.)
This means pleasing/serving others, along with achievement, are highly motivating for me.
Let’s take my eldest, who at his core, is quite different from me. When I try to convince him people will just love something! Or energize him with a goal! ...Well. He turns and walks out of the room.
If writing a handbook for him–an Enneagram 8, partly driven by his need to be against something–I’d title chapter one, Respect His Autonomy. As my mom used to put it when he was little, “He’s a lot more willing if he thinks it’s his idea.”
So for him, I emphasize his adult choice on whether to do the right thing.
Does this mean I abdicate teaching my oldest an obedient heart? That I’m always on the make for how to manipulate him and his desires?
No way. That doesn’t deal with a core heart issue of rebellion in his heart.
…Just like manipulating me as a kid through parental delight would have ignored my heart issues of being a wee little Pharisee, who basks in the praise of men: “They do all their deeds to be seen by others” (Matthew 23:5).
In the same vein, distracting a preschooler from their Oscar-worthy fit in the housewares aisle at Target (or worse, giving them candy or a screen, which could act as a reward) doesn’t actually help deal with their heart.
And BTW: Our kids don’t need to be constantly motivated by something other than obedience or doing what’s right or loving. Sometimes they just need to do the hard thing, like the rest of us have learned to do as adults.
This is a tool for God’s kingdom–to continue to woo our kids toward His ways. It’s a way to raise our kids according to their unique bent (Proverbs 22:6), working with their natural momentum rather than constantly uphill.
For my artistic daughter, art and creativity are natural ways to draw her into God’s Word or serving people or a thriving prayer life. My energetic last-born dives into The Action Bible and the outlandish humor of What’s in the Bible with Buck Denver?
Finding out how our kids are motivated isn’t a tool to use for our kingdom, our will be done.
And that’s why it’s key to know how we as parents are motivated. Because our own goals to motivate a child aren’t always pure.
We might feel shame if our child doesn’t achieve or look the right way. It might be disproportionately embarrassing if our child has poor social skills. We might feel fear if they’re struggling with anxiety or depression, causing us to be reactive rather than helpful, compassionate, and wise.
As parents, we rarely want things entirely for the good of our child and the good of God’s Kingdom. It’s great to want our kids to achieve or be classy or be healthy. But those need to fall in their proper order, not swelling into shame (on us, or cast on them) or inordinate anxiety.
We need to tease out our real desires. Then we can offer those longings to God’s control–and they’ll possess less power to manipulate us from behind.
Take time to prayerfully observe what makes your child want to do things. If they love cheerleading, why do they love it? Does your daughter love the precise, controlled outcomes of science? Does your son value speech and debate because he wants a unique opinion?
Try this two-column list.
How can you wisely (and prayerfully) tie a motivator to a behavior?
Obviously, keep an eye to emotional health. If your child lives for his 45 minutes of screen time at the end of the day, taking it all away to get him to chew with his mouth closed, for the love of Mike could seem unjust, making your child feel misunderstood.
Or is it truly wise to take away time with friends for your homeschooled child?
As you can, talk to your child–and ask questions–about how they’re motivated, and what you perceive. All of us need to know how to get our own motors running.
When we first have kids, God gives us a kindness–the understanding we can have some level of control, some ability to shape our kids. We understand there are clearly ways to motivate a child (taking away consequences, giving rewards), and we possess a lot of them.
But as they inch closer to adulthood, kids undergo that healthy process of differentiation; of becoming someone different than we are. As a veteran missionary once told me,
When your kids turn about 11, you really start hitting your knees. You realize you really can’t change their hearts.
And that’s been my own critical lesson in this season of teens. (Sometimes this lesson feels like fear galloping through me like wild horses.)
I can and should do everything in my power to shape my kids toward God. But as Paul reminds me,
I planted the seed, Apollos watered it, but God has been making it grow. So neither the one who plants nor the one who waters is anything, but only God, who makes things grow. (1 Corinthians 3:6-7)
It’s God who ultimately changes my kids’ hearts. I remember the ancient story of Ruth, who
No, there’s no promise that if we parent well and trust God, we’ll have motivated, phenomenal kids. (Remember, God is the father figure in the story of the prodigal son).
But continuing to seek God on how to motivate them toward him and his ways? That’s worth my effort.
A missionary friend told me once of a person she’d spoken with who, as a child in Africa, was slapped every time she asked a question.
I was moved by the person’s insight: “You don’t just stop asking questions,” they’d mused to my friend.
Reading Time: 4 minutes
This week, I’m working through the final interior design and whatnot on my own parenting book (due out this October: Permanent Markers: Spiritual Life Skills to Write on Your Kids’ Hearts. #shamelessplug). And there are moments in real-life parenting when I’m whispering to myself, “Maybe we should retitle this thing I’ve Got Nothin’.”
But those moments give me all the more reason to get excited about other parenting books genuinely trying to step in with practical ideas to help us connect and shape and love well. So I’m tickled pink to be offering two copies of Becky Harling’s How to Listen So Your Kids Will Talk (Bethany, 2021).
I don’t offer you books that freely (…there’ve been some I haven’t offered). I want to earn your trust when it comes to resources. And most other things. (Things you should not trust me on: Math. Athletic ability. How to care for straight hair. Potty training.)
But Becky’s got some gems tucked in How to Listen So Your Kids Will Talk. Please, read over my shoulder.
Becky’s husband Steve asks her adult children this question–and Becky mentions that by God’s kindness, “I was able to receive all that they shared.”
What I love about this: Throughout the book, Becky seems to indicate that listening to our kids, to anyone, requires humility. There is a profound grace in asking good questions, seeking to really be present with the person across from us, and shelving our agendas while we receive someone.
Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote wisely, reminding people like me of the danger of always having a helpful response:
The first service one owes to others in a community involves listening to them. Just as our love for God begins with listening to God’s Word, the beginning of love for others is learning to listen to them. God’s love for us is shown by the fact that God not only gives God’s Word, but also lends us God’s ear.
We do God’s work for our brothers and sisters when we learn to listen to them.
So often Christians, especially preachers, think that their only service is always to have to ‘offer’ something when they are together with other people.
They forget that listening can be a greater service…Christians who can no longer listen to one another will soon no longer be listening to God either.
Becky peppers How to Listen So Your Kids Will Talk with something unexpected: Wisdom and questions for self-care. Why? “Parents who are tired and overcommitted are more likely to lose it with their kids.”
Yes. Yes, we are. (I had to wrestle upon this tough realization in The True Cost of Overcommitment.)
So Becky asks great questions like,
She also asks…
I’ve written a bit about what it’s like to have a child that’s different from what you expected, or When You’re Scrabbling for Hope for *That* Child. or When Your Child’s Weaknesses Feel Overwhelming.
Every one of these has been me.
I find that my kids occasionally rotate in and out of my triage. And for better or for worse, that triage child determines not a small part of my life experience in that season.
But I’ve also been thinking about this: Those times of concern also increase my advocacy and attachment to that child. I have fierce feelings for my second son, for example, because of all we’ve slugged through with his ADHD.
These times have kneaded into me God’s advocacy and love as a Father, too.
As a question-collector, I love this genius question Harling posed to kids. Listen to some of their answers:
Now I want to go ask my kids!
I was relieved that this was something my husband and I (him even more than me) are already doing. We rotate through our kids (not on a schedule, per se), taking them for coffee or whatnot. (Much easier pre-COVID, but not un-doable now.)
This is one of those answers I anticipate in response to “When are you most likely to talk to me?”
Totally have not considered applying this verse to parenting (Proverbs 12:16). In fact, Harling counsels parents who want their teens to talk to practice not looking shocked.
This has been 100% true for my teens. Sometimes I’ve totally managed this–but I’ve had to pay for the times I haven’t.
Becky elaborates, “If you want your kid to talk to you, the ‘evil eye’ has to go.”
Shot to the heart.
What if you have little-bitty kids right now? I loved this quote she requotes: “In a child’s first two years, the desire to experience joy in loving relationships is the most powerful force in life.” Referring to the location of the “joy center” behind the eyes, the quote continues, “In fact, some neurologists now say that the basic human need is to be the ‘sparkle in someone’s eyes.'”
Becky opens each chapter with other thoughtful nuggets from other authors, too–like this one I love.
We’re called to see the preciousness of our children even when they are covered in their own “mess.”
Dr. Karyn Purvis
Here the Gospel in there? Jesus coming to us in our mess?
Me, too.
With my recurring anger issues, maybe I should get this one tattooed on my person somewhere. It’s an idea.
That said–there’s a lot of parenting gold to be mined in How to Listen So Your Kids Will Talk. And I’m thrilled to give away two copies!
I’ll contact you via the email address you enter. Thanks for being a reader!
Reading Time: 5 minutes
Anyone else out there go through these seasons when you’re struggling to find hope around one of your kids?
Gnawing on this recently, I realized I’ve gone through seasons of this with each of my kids. Some more than others, sure. But there was that year when I was deeply concerned about my daughter’s manipulation. Or my son’s ADHD taking a wrecking ball to his relationships. Or that kid whose ego I could see splintering him off from listening to God.
I confess I’ve had some of those days lately, emphasized by the occasional argument or just the regular triggers of my own fear. For one particular conflict, I felt like God gave me so much grace in the moment to handle it…but I woke up in the morning wrecked.
I asked my husband, How is that doing the right thing feels so horrible?
(I know. Welcome to parenting.)
So I’m scribbling down reminders to myself today, and thought you might want to peek over my shoulder. ‘Cause maybe you’re there, too.
Recently on a walk, I asked God if he would give me just one slice of hope around this child every day. (Honestly, a tiny voice in me wondered if I was setting myself up for disappointment.)
But I’ve been delightfully surprised. God has indeed given me at least one thing to hope for every day.
And there’s even some psychology behind that. Social researcher Shaunti Feldhahn points out that looking for things to praise a person for changes our own brains. Our own hearts.
You might say it’s thinking on what’s true, noble, right, pure, lovely, excellent, praiseworthy (Philippians 4:8-9). (Keeping a running list helps, too.)
Feldhahn tells the story of a woman who accepted Feldhahn’s researched-based 30-Day Kindness Challenge, but told Shaunti, “You don’t know my husband.”
The Challenge, see, requires praising or appreciating one thing each day about the person who’s the object of your challenge. The woman thought she’d need to store up a bank of things to praise him for, because she wouldn’t have something each day.
But as she continued with the challenge, her list of things to praise…grew. Every. Day.
Finding sources of praise–toward God about my child, or verbally to my child–changes me.
This is my next step, I decided after that conflict. I’m taking the Challenge for this child (just one person the first time, Shaunti suggests). Scroll down on this page on Shaunti’s website for the three requirements to complete each day for 30 days.
I’ve increasingly realized my interpretations of events–the stories I tell myself–powerfully affect my sense of love and hope.
Take, for example, my rowdy boys yukking it up the other night after 9 PM while I was seeking to relax. We have renters living in our basement–who are told when moving in, “Please expect family noise.” As in, It might sound like a herd of rhinos are sparring above your head.
Yes, I asked the boys to chill. But I also turned to my husband and said, “Hear that? That’s the sound of our kids getting along.” Yes, like animals that might fare better on the African savannah–but hey, getting along.
I used to be confused by what Jesus meant by “the eye is the lamp of the body. So, if your eye is healthy, your whole body will be full of light” (Matthew 6:22). Huh?
But it’s the way I see things–more accurately choose to see things–that makes my perspective healthy or unhealthy. The story I tell myself about what’s going on affects a lot of how I act, and how much light I’m able to see.
(God seemed to remind me this past week that I chronically underestimate both his love and his control.)
So in keeping with my first memo–I’m looking for the hope when I’m tempted toward abject fear or anger. Is there something to be thankful for? Is God’s goodness present in some form, rather than all turned black?
Author Amy Young reminds me God welcomes my yearning. He asks me, like he asks so many others in the Bible–“What do you want me to do?”
Maybe you’re not sure.
Read over this list of desires or longings and see which catch your eye, or stir a longing in you:
Peace
Relief
Comfort
Revenge
Rest
Protection
Presence
Healing
Getting in touch with what we want, presenting it to him, helps us manage that desire, keeping open hands…rather than it managing us from behind.
I was fascinated by a question in David Powlison’s X-Ray Questions–designed to reveal idols in my heart. He asks, What do you pray for?
At first, I thought praying would be the exact opposite of something taking up God’s space in my heart, stealing my reverence and worship.
But can even holy endeavors become idols? You betcha. It is good and beautiful for me to pursue raising godly kids. But if God doesn’t give that, and I’m seething in anger or oozing unbelief from what he’s taken from me?
That longing swells beyond its good order. It can seek to control and punish. (Note: This indeed can describe me. Right now.)
So yes! I should pray for those things and present them to God. But yes, my longing can teach me a lot about the heart they come from.
Puritan preacher Jeremiah Burroughs wrote,
You cannot imagine what great deal of good it will do to resist the very next temptation.
So I’ve been doing that lately: praying for my kids to resist their next one. I also pray for specific temptations I anticipate for each child.
Truth: I began this post a month ago. Somewhere in there, I went through some dark days, realizing how long I’ve been praying for this child. How long I’ve been…
Waiting.
But even as I type, I marvel at what God’s done in the last month. No miracles have in fact bloomed before me–other than the small miracles of God resurrecting things in this child’s life. They’re like buds after a winter, when you wondered if that one tree was dead…or just dormant, gathering ingredients for growth.
If you’ve read to here? I’m praying that today, you glimpse some surprising signs of life.
Reading Time: 5 minutes
I still recall with vividness my son’s drawing, proclaiming my anger issues to the world.
It was in red marker (his favorite color). Chunky hands rested on wonderfully slim, stick-figure hips. “I made you look mad, but you’re not mad in this picture,” he explained.
“Am I mad a lot?” I asked, willing him of course to say no.
“You’re mad a lot, but not in this picture,” he clarified helpfully.
See, I didn’t really think I had an anger problem until I had kids. (Newlywed-me actually told my husband I’d never had problems like this with anyone else, so it must be his fault.
True story.)
Maybe you already know your hot buttons.
I’m personally more likely to lose it when we’re in a hurry. When I’m feeling taken for granted. And one particular week a month.
But it helped me to conduct autopsies on my outbursts–discovering what was fueling my anger and how to start cutting off the source of that fuel.
See, back when I was potty-training kids, there was a progression:
1 ) Kids recognize what their bodies just did.
2) Eventually, kids recognize when their bodies are actually doing it.
3) Finally, kids recognize before they need to go.
And that’s me with anger. A lot of times I’m still on step one–figuring out what just happened and what should have happened. When a freeze-frame of my yelling, livid face might not hold the caption, Behold! A Jesus-follower loving her children.
There’s a need for confession and repentance to God. To my kids.
Or sometimes I’m on step 2. Hey, you’re blowing your top! Better step away and make sure the Holy Spirit’s in the one control of you.
But the best happens in step 3–when I’m able to head off an angry outburst at the pass. Or when I can hit the brakes enough that I’m not driven by the emotion, but by love and laser-precise anger.
Keep in mind the powerlessness kids may feel when an authority figure and provider is angry with them. It could possibly be an escalated version of a boss raging at us.
I had to ask: Do I want my kids to have to protect themselves from me?
My anger, for all its energizing power, has been a destructive, corruptive force, incinerating my kids’ emotions.
I need to handle conflict in ways that actually build my family up rather than tearing it down.
So allow me to ask: Why does God get angry?
You probably know this.
Jesus was angry. Anger is a jetpack for change and injustice. It’s a sign something valuable and precious is trampled on.
God’s anger displays proper justice against those who legitimately do evil. It protects what is right and holy and pure; it acts on behalf of the oppressed.
When we see unspeakable atrocities from genocides or racism or against the poor, it is God as Righteous Judge that gives me any hope for the future (see Matthew 10:26).
For a more extreme example, if someone hurt your son or daughter, for example, anger would be an appropriate emotion.
Making us in his image, God allowed us to share his capacity for this emotion, too.
But too often, my own scale of “righteous judgment” is…off. (Think of a conveniently non-zeroed bathroom scale after the Chinese buffet.)
My loves swell disproportionately. A proper desire expands into a clawing, judging, punishing demand. (See Hungry: When Soul-cravings Leave Us Vulnerable.)
Usually, I need a few minutes to get out of the more instinctual part of my brain (my fight, flight, or freeze instincts)…and help my kids get out of theirs. It gives me time to pray, too.
Try these questions to help yourself emotionally step away when anger is hot.
So in light of that inevitable human miscalibration, I like Tim Keller’s summary of the anger I need: not No Anger, not Blow (up) Anger, but Slow Anger. God describes himself throughout Scripture as slow to anger, abounding in love.
Keller explains we want to use anger as a scalpel–not a grenade.
Out of the overflow of the heart, the mouth speaks (Matthew 12:34).
So I could be like, Lord, the dog puked on the carpet! And my kids are SO disrespectful! And my husband totally forgot again to pick up milk, so I have to go out with all three kids and strap them in the car seat and take them to the bathroom in the middle of my shopping.
…but that’s not the real issue, is it? Isn’t the issue inside of me?
When I see the source of my anger as outside of myself, I surrender my ability to change.
And honestly, I wish I could tell you, So that was then! Great news is, I’m so much better now!
My anger issues are unquestionably better. In some ways, I’ve sadly passed them on to my kids.
In nearly all ways, it’s a “long obedience in the same direction.” But I’m not the same mom I was when my kids were little. (And my hips are definitely a little wider than a stick figure.)
It’s the hard, beautiful work of God in my life toward holiness–of the Holy Spirit making self-control a reality.
Ready to get a grip on anger with me?
Two of the most important words you’ll ever say
When Your Teen Yells at You: 8 Win-win Ideas
When Anger’s Hot: Raising Self-Controlled Kids in Outrage Culture
![Now You're Speaking My [Love] Language](https://www.janelbreitenstein.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/08/love-languages-text-1.jpg "Now You're Speaking My [Love] Language")
© 2024 THE AWKWARD MOM
Theme by Anders Noren — Up ↑
