One of my children recently didn’t achieve the teacher recommendation they needed for another year on student council.
And I felt the tug-of-war in my innards. Part of me ached for the rejection they felt, particularly coming from a teacher who siblings confirmed was particularly difficult. I sought to turn off the ignition to my inner snowplow, shaking off the urge to appeal.
But words from a friend, maybe a decade ago now, bubbled to the surface of my brain. Can getting caught–or discipline itself–be a mercy?
Getting caught: A severe mercy
In my mind, the answer’s a resounding yes.read more
6. Be the first one to admit what you did wrong, even if you feel your contribution was only 1% of the problem. Take 100% responsibility for your portion, and ask forgiveness for it.
7. If you’re looking for ways to parent with emotional health, one of the best is to think quick-slow-slow*: “Be quick to listen, slow to speak, slow to become angry” (James 1:19). This might look like
giving a thoughtful, measured consequence rather than a reactive one.
keeping a level head when your child is melting down. Respond with a gentle answer, which “turns away wrath,” rather than a harsh word that “stirs up anger” (Proverbs 15:1).
responding thoughtfully when your child says something that raises your inner eyebrows. Ask questions and offer reason. Resist the urge to respond out of fear or anger.
This morning as my 14-year-old scarfed down chicken-maple sausage links before school, I pulled Tim Keller’s devo (for adults) on Proverbs off the kitchen’s half-wall, where it sits by the fruit bowl. These pages have become to me a quietly cherished part of our routine.
There’s something about Proverbs’ concrete wisdom and word pictures for developing young brains that makes this book wonderfully tactile. (And bless the person who divided it neatly into 31 chapters, one per day of the month.)
Sure, its principles can perhaps be interpreted by kids (and adults) as if-then promises. But if you’re a child or a young adult, its succinct wisdom can carry this reorienting-to-true-North effect.
I know for me, as a young adult, a group of my female friends and I studied Proverbs 31 together in college. It’s influenced my perception of strong, robust womanhood ever since.
So this morning on the markerboard on my fridge, I’m scrawling Proverbs 4:14-15. And I’m thinking maybe you, too, would love to post some Proverbs for kids here and there in your house.
As we kick off a new year together, may verses like these continue to put legs on wisdom–a wisdom for their sponge-like brains to sop up for a lifetime.
I have a child with ADHD and one who’s got a lot of impulsive energy (i.e. occasional irrationality typical to 10-year-old boys) at school.
I know that feeling of seeing the school’s number on my phone and thinking, Please let it be good news.
Last week, in response to one of those less-than-great calls, I had to initiate one of my own that, as a generally non-confrontational person, I prefer to avoid. As in, my heart kind of knocked around just thinking about it.
I was concerned about a matter of school discipline with one of the kids. After trying to reason it away…and then talking to other involved parents…it wasn’t going away.
Sigh.
Some of you might read this post and think, Actually, I don’t care if they think I’m a you-know-what. They’ll know I’m a mom who cares for her child.
And maybe you’re right.
But sometimes, there’s a happier medium. What if conflict with that coach or babysitter or in-law leaves us, the relationship, our child, and the situation stronger.
Adding a bit more weight: We’re playing out for our kids how to handle conflict on an adult level.
What will they see? A few hopeful thoughts.
1. Acknowledge the tension between solidarity with authority and your child.
We’ve seen this just co-parenting with a spouse or stepparent. Our spouse and kids need to see we’ve got our spouse’s back–or our kids divide and conquer.
But there are moments you look at your spouse and think, You did not just do that.
Similarly, in Sunday School or daycare or school, any kid see he can divide you and his other authority figure. He’s taking his cues from you about whether he should respect authority in other environments than home.
Here’s the tension. Having had close relationships with victims of abuse? At times, advocating for your child, validating their inner (albeit occasionally errant) sense of justice can mean the world someday when they’re asking, “Who fought for me when people hurt me?”
Help kids see God as shield and defender through you—and yet still as respected authority figure.
It’s a little like hiring a lawyer: It’s great to have someone advocate for you. But both of you need to be on the side of the law (i.e. what’s right).
2. Acknowledge your child’s contributions to problems, a.k.a. the log in your own eye.
It’s the first step. Rather than defending our child to the death, can we teach them–even when they’re only, say, 30% responsible for the conflict–to take 100% responsibility for that 30%?
3. Give it a good night’s sleep. (Or three.)
I hate that feeling of, I probably would have done something really different if I hadn’t been furious.
The consequences of our decisions—especially the impulsive ones—can have longtime ramifications on our kids. They can lend themselves to authority figures that don’t like them because of authorities’ interactions with us.
(And P.S.? Sometimes our kids lie. So there might be a fuller story to understand.)
How could your navigation of this situation affect how your child’s treated in the ongoing relationship?
Maybe you’re just ready to burn that bridge, already. But I think, too, of 2 Corinthians 5:18-20:
Through Christ [God] reconciled us to himself and gave us the ministry of reconciliation; that is, in Christ God was reconciling the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them, and entrusting to us the message of reconciliation.
Therefore, we are ambassadors for Christ, God making his appeal through us.
Through us, are people getting the idea of God’s heart for reconciliation?
4. Sometimes kids need to fight their own battles.
You will not be there (or should not?) when he’s addressing a quiz grade with a professor. Or dealing with his missed deadlines at work. Or arguing with his girlfriend or wife.
Before you step in or ask for that change of teacher or deliver that ultimatum, are there character lessons to be gleaned from the long game? SeeShould I let my kid quit? Questions to ask.
5. Don’t let yourself label the other person or regard them as enemy. Pray for them.
Creating us vs. them categories dehumanizes the other person. It creates an easier environment for us not to empathize. Not to respect. Not to be teachable or humble. To judge, rather than care for “that teacher.”
I like to pray Psalm 25:15 sometimes when I’m wrestling with some of the same old issues of identity. Or should be. My eyes are ever toward the Lord, for he will pluck my feet out of the net.
What could this look liks? You don’t necessarily cave when you’re being manipulated or sweet-talked. It means you can let a small insult slide. You might refuse to backpedal out of sheer cowardice. You could deny your own defensiveness.
Because your identity doesn’t come from what your child’s teacher thinks of you.
You could rest when your request gets a final, immovable no, because God loves your child and has plans for her future, even when those plans divert wildly from ours.
7. Keep it as private as possible as long as possible.
The Golden Rule is a great way to evaluate whether you should speak.
8. Listen extensively before you speak.
If a person is on the defensive, usually his or her brain is in fight or flight or freeze mode—not “please tell me what I’m doing wrong so I can change” mode. You might resort to the classic, “When you __, I feel __.”
I turn to Proverbs on this one: A gentle answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger (15:1).
9. Be willing to seek creative solutions that work for both of you—not just the only solution you can visualize.
To do this, before meeting the other party, decide what interests lie beneath the issue between you. When you’re believing the best about the other person, what do you think they want to preserve? What do you want to preserve? (When in doubt, ask them.)
Beneath, say, the teacher’s conviction your child should stay in during recess on your child’s bad days could be his need for an orderly classroom and firm, effective consequences.
Beneath your desire for your child to have a recess may be your desire for the teacher not to go crazy, and your child not to loathe school.
Is there a way you could propose that would serve both interests?
10. Get as present as you can be.
Increase the level of interaction to be as personal as you can: Even that email your best friend thought was well-written can’t substitute the trust and power of physical presence, or at least a congenial phone call demonstrating your respect of the individual.
As far as it depends on you, eliminate time crunches around an appointment, or gathering when either of you are exhausted. (Who wants to be the principal’s after-school appointment on a Friday?)
11. Rather than you against each other, make it you against the problem.
Consider asking questions like,
Can you tell me your version of what’s going on? I realize I’m probably only hearing it from one or two angles.
So I’m hearing ___ (note: protect this response from sarcasm). Is that what you’re trying to say?
So here’s the concern I’m having…
What can I do to work in tandem with you?
Do you feel like we’re on the same page with our goals?
12. Christians: Remember you’re advocating for Jesus. Not just your child.
Of course, this doesn’t always mean “be nice”. (Though from personal experience—kindness has won far more battles for me than combativeness.)
It does mean we carry around the aroma of Christ (2 Corinthians 2:15-17), and need to consider wisely whether these are true issues of justice, or slights we can teach our kids to overlook: “It is to a man’s glory to overlook an offense” (Proverbs 19:11).
This post–What’s God Think of Strong Women? –explores (among other things) ways we sometimes misinterpret or misuse strength. But you can be strong without being a you-know-what: If possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all (Romans 12:18).
Keep advocating for your child, Mama Bear. But do it with classy respect.
I hung up from the nerve-jangling call last week with a deep breath. I’d come away with action points for our parenting at home–but feeling like the authority figure and I were more on the same team than ever. And bonus: my child wasn’t blacklisted. He showed me a slight smile when I told him I’d called.
Whew.
Conflict had become more than an obstacle–and had morphed into an opportunity.
It was the kind of article that makes you mentally cover your face with your hands. And then, bite your nails with the grimace still on your face.
And her words still rattle me. (They should.)
Raising Children Without the Concept of Sin , published recently in the New York Times, was the kind of title that sinks to your gut like a stone, stirring up silt and making things generally cloudy. I wish I could discard this with other headlines, lining tomorrow’s guinea pig cages… but unfortunately, this one is perennially relevant.
The blurb: My religious fundamentalist childhood was built around the fear of sin. My daughters don’t even know the word.
The author, now estranged from her parents, recounts a childhood that sketches the nightmares of any parent who loves God’s Word–and loves grace:
God was a megaphone bleating in my head: “You’re bad, you’re bad, you’re bad!”
….Sin. That tiny word still makes me cringe with residual fear. Fear of being judged unworthy. Fear of the eternal torture of hell. Fear of my father’s belt.
I wanted not only to parse what sin should and shouldn’t look like in parenting–but needed to understand the author’s story, too. If I looked beyond the ostensible hostility, what did I need to know about what happened to her?
Author’s note: This is another one of those posts (like most of mine?) that I write from the thick of it. As in, not from mastery. As in, I was dealing with this last night. Turns out I not only get the “shoulds” with myself; I get them with other people. As in my kids.
My husband has probably said it more than ten times: “When you’re tired, you get the shoulds.”
I should call her. I need to write that note. I think we need to make a plan for disciplining [insert child]. I should be more diligent about…
You get the idea. It’s funny in a way–not funny-ha-ha, more funny-sad–that I’m actually harder on myself when I’m exhausted; when I need grace most.
I’m starting to see a pattern. My level of spiritual maturity is sometimes inversely connected to how much I get the shoulds.
In keeping with my recent infatuation with infographics, today’s post is an attempt to visually portray the thoughts in this popular post, 11 Ideas for More Emotionally-whole and HealthyParenting (which in turn can give you more complete ideas).
Print it FREE here!And if you like it, I’d love it if you shared it so more people can have access to these ideas.
Here’s to a more “wholehearted ” week at your house.
My most popular post for this blog hands-down has been Shame on You? On Shame-parenting vs. guilt exposure. It seems like all of us can resonate with the gripping force of shame in our lives–and the longing to give our kids something more.
It’s pretty much because creating a sense of respect in my kids still makes me want to tear my hair out. Admittedly, my oldest is now 13, so we’re breaking new ground in this area.
Um, honestly? American culture demands very little of kids in this area. Our country was actually founded on some degree of…rebellion. Ugandans, for one, are mildly horrified by the manners of many American children toward their parents. But then again, African cultures are largely shame-based. I think you can solidly establish respect without shaming children–but it is harder without wielding shame. Yet they are not mutually exclusive in my book.
Our kids are going to be under authority their entire lives. With the exception of a few horrid dictators of suffering countries, everyone on this planet is under authority of some kind. (Jesus is, too.) Offering our kids the gift of submission is one of those keys that opens doors for the rest of their lives.
Completely Pretty much hypothetical situation. Say one of your kids—well, one of my kids, anyway—teases a sibling to the point of tears. (I know. Whose kids would do that?!)
Let’s take a gander at a few of our parenting options, shall we?
a. “How could you do that to him/her? You are such a bully. Ugh. I am so disgusted with you.”
b. “Get over here! What were you thinking?! I cannot believe you.”
c. “Hey, we need to talk about this. Take a look at your sister for a minute. Let’s think about what it’s like to be in her shoes right now. What do you think she’s feeling? Have you ever felt that way? Do you think you built her up, or tore her down? What do you think you should do?”
I hope I would choose c; I do. But, when forming this decision in a perfect storm of hormones, loathsome traffic, summer heat, and a full week of kids acting as if they were raised by wolves, I wish I were not so enticed by options a and b.
What’s the difference between leading our kids toward appropriate guilt—and shaming them, otherwise known as (gulp) toxic parenting?
I'm totally #thatmom--the one diving into all the weirdness with my kids, sidestepping a few eyerolls.
Pull up a chair for practical ideas and discussions on the parenting, relationships, and spirituality we're all army-crawling through every day. After five and a half years in Uganda, my family and I returned to the U.S., where I write and speak professionally, and we continue to work on behalf of the poor. My first solo book, Permanent Markers: Spiritual Life Skills to Write on Your Kids' Hearts (Harvest House), released October 2021.
Author’s note: This is another one of those posts (like most of mine?) that I write from the thick of it. As in, not from mastery. As in, I was dealing with this last night. Turns out I not only get the “shoulds” with myself; I get them with other people. As in my kids.
Like this series? Get more of these here.
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