My heart sinks when I read the text: the teenage son of some friends has gotten into trouble. After months of poor decisions, he ran away from home, only to be picked up hours later by the police for underage drinking. I’m heartbroken for our friends, but I’m also terrified for myself as I imagine encountering the same situation with my children. What began with compassion and empathy quickly spirals into fear over the difficulties we will face with our children as they reach their teen years. What if our kids get into trouble? How will we handle those tough moments? How will our family survive such a crisis? . . .
I sit at the table with my daughter, phonics books spread across our laps. Each word is a struggle and I grow increasingly frustrated—not with her, but with myself. Why was I able to teach these same skills to my boys? Why aren’t those strategies working? Why can’t I reach her? What if she never learns to read and it’s entirely my fault? . . .
We’re standing on the playground, friends all around. My own children are playing, having plenty of fun, but their play is different from that of their peers. Instead of joining in on the game, they hang from the monkey bars, calling out to each other and narrating the play of the others. Why aren’t my kids playing the same way as everyone else? Is there something wrong with their version of playground fun? Should I step in and encourage them to join everyone else? . . .
In each of these scenarios, I was doing what every mother does: desiring the best for my kids. It felt like I was simply looking out for their well-being as I pondered how to avoid future problems, or how to overcome academic hurdles, or how to help them fit in. But in all this mental “helping,” I was making one crucial mistake: in focusing on who they were NOT, I was forgetting to notice each child in front of me as they WERE. I was so busy worrying about some potential future versions of my kids, or how they were different from their peers or from each other, that I failed to see my kids as they were in the moment. And in neglecting to see and celebrate them as they are, I had taken the focus off of my kids and turned it towards ME and everything I was doing (or might one day be doing) wrong.
I have always been amazed at the uniqueness of each individual. How creative is God that He designed so many versions of a person?! Size, personality, gifts, intelligence, appearance, beliefs, interests. . . all different, with infinite combinations of each assorted trait. A beauty of humanity lies in its diversity—no two alike! Even within our own family, each of my children is EXTREMELY different from the others and it’s incredible to see. But I can talk until I’m blue in the face about how wonderful it is that each child is unique . . and none of that matters if I forget to actually factor their differences into my parenting. That requires setting aside comparisons to other children. It means letting go of who I think they SHOULD be and recognizing who they already ARE. It means celebrating their differences, helping them embrace their unique abilities, providing assistance in their individual struggles. It means taking things one day at a time, acknowledging that who they are today may not be who they are tomorrow or next year or a decade from now. Most of all, it means tuning out the comparing and the catastrophizing and the self-blaming so that I can be PRESENT with my kids as I observe and engage with the child in front of me.
The Bible talks quite a bit about relying on God for our daily needs. The Israelites did this in the desert as they depended on God for each day’s allotment of manna for food; they were explicitly instructed NOT to store up the bread that rained from the sky every morning so that they would be reliant on God for each day’s provision. I believe that God still provides us with what we need on a day-to-day basis. In His sermon on the Mount, Jesus reminded His followers, “do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own” (Matthew 6:34). God provides us with what we need, WHEN we need it. And to extrapolate a bit, God provides parents with the skills to parent OUR children as they are right now—not who they were in the past, or who they will become, or who they are in comparison to others, but who they are in this very moment.
When I was growing up, my Dad often encouraged me to stop obsessing about others’ opinions by reminding me that “what other people think of you is none of your business.” Lately, in my quest to parent my unique children uniquely, I’ve been repeating a riff on the mantra: “what other kids are doing is none of my business.” I can trust God to equip THOSE parents to parent their children, and I can be grateful that He is helping ME parent my own. Those other kids simply are not my concern. Yes, my kids may one day face similar issues, but we will cross that bridge when we get to it. For now, I want to be present with the kids in front of me. They deserve a mom who sees them and loves them for who they are and who is faithfully coparenting with the Lord to shepherd them into who THEY will become.
