What God Said to Me about Being a Parent

We're a couple of weeks into summer...

and earlier today I had a conversation with a friend who is struggling, this summer in particular, with being a parent. We all wrestle with being a parent for different reasons, at different times and in varying degrees. But she was talking specifically about the difficulty of being with her soon-to-be 7-year-old at home full-time during the school summer break.

My friend doesn't happen to homeschool and for we who do, this at home full-time-ness with our kids is our reality most every day. But whether we're homeschoolers or not, the challenge of being a parent, including the often intense demand it takes on us most every waking moment of every single day, is universal.

I was reminded as we spoke about something I feel God said to me soon after my first baby was born. I didn't actually audibly hear God speak, but what he said in my spirit was clear.

I was in the throes of newborn-land, lacking sleep, wherewithal and, among many other things, energy. I was exhausted and emotional and every minute it seemed felt deeply steeped in survival mode. I remember standing in the kitchen one afternoon, my husband was at work, the baby in the swing. And just when I didn't know how I was going to make it through the rest of the day, here's what, to me, God said: "Thank you for loving my daughter today."

My circumstances didn't change in that moment, but wow, what a big perspective shift. This little one was, and still is, God's. He dreamed my daughter up, his imagination and power and breath allowed her to be. And as trying as being a mom can be, taking care of her, walking alongside her, being entrusted by God to love her... on his behalf... is nothing short of an undeserved, amazing privilege and gift.

And so today, whether, as a parent, you feel you're in the trenches, or even if things aren't going so bad, I believe that God, to you also, would say "thank you for loving my child today."

Finishing Strong

We have 6 more days left in this school year and as we're wrapping up, I, perhaps like you, have a big desire to finish strong. As I've thought over the past few days what that means for us, finishing strong is taking a different form than I originally thought that finishing strong would mean.

My initial thoughts landed along lines like these:

"Before the end of the year I really want to get to the end of our math curriculum."

"I really want to wrap up this unit. No loose strings!"

"I want to end the year somehow feeling like the kids learned a lot and, going into the summer, are all filled up with the various kinds of school-like stimulation I know they want and need."

Etc., etc.

But the more the idea of finishing strong has stirred inside my mind, the more I'm finding that, for me, finishing strong is less about the doing... and all about the being.

What I really want my kids to feel at the end of this school year is that they are known... and that they are loved. Can that happen while running around, trying to pack in the remaining pieces of our curriculum before the end-of-the-year school bell rings? Perhaps in some families. But not for me.

Maybe like you, I can only focus on so much. They say that women are natural multi-taskers. Not me! The less I have on my radar, the better chance there is of my doing something well. So for the next week, I'm actually paring down what the kids and I are doing, and instead of cramming the last pages of our various curriculum in to these next several days, I'm playing on the floor. I'm pulling out the legos, I'm grabbing our wooden blocks. I'm hanging out with my daughter at the piano and playing police and Rescue Bots and jumping on the trampoline. We are reading our Bibles together, and taking the time to talk about what stood out. We're pausing, we're thinking, we're living together inside of unplanned moments and experiencing our hours without a single academic expectation.

And all the while, I'm looking in their eyes. I'm studying their smiles. I'm exploring their expressions and delighting in their laughter. Which is different than letting our school year peter out. It's not about becoming lazy. Admittedly, amid my aspirations to finish the school year strong, there's a part of me with senioritis. "Ahhh... we're near the end. Let's just coast because who cares what else, at this point, we get done?"

The truth, you more than likely know, is that getting down among our kids, existing at their height, imagining at their age and playing along with their often well-worn jokes and hobbies and favorite games, is often a whole lot more exhausting than pushing forward in school.

But I want my kids to know, if nothing else over these next several days, that I see them. That I know them. That I want to know them more. And that, no matter what, they are right now, they are always, loved.

Of course this is my desire for them every day. But for now, and for me, this is what it means to finish strong.