Category Archives: Parenting

The Dictatorship

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Most of us get sleepy when battling jet lag. Babies and toddlers, however, get peppier. And they use their pep for two purposes: to holler with gusto and outlast their parents.

Katy and Hans do valiantly. After a 20 hour day yesterday traveling from the UK to the US, they slept a bit but were up for the day at 2:30 am because of three jet-lagged babies whose bodies told them it was morning. Breakfast kicked off at 3:00 am, first baby naps at 5:00, and by 5:30 Katy and Hans were wondering, “Are we crazy to be here?”

Nate used to refer to babies as “little dictators.” But Katy and Hans have a plan to come out from under that dominance. After five days of grace, one for each time zone crossed, the little dictators will be crying it out on a schedule chosen by their parents.

Babies aren’t the only dictators in life. All of us have bouts with them, and I’ve battled one my entire life. It’s sugar. My mental dictator hollers orders daily in multiple ways. “That candy bar looks good. Eat it. It doesn’t matter that it’s breakfast time.” Or, “Everyone else is having another piece of cake. Go ahead.” Or, “You’ve been good all day. Reward yourself with a bagful of cookies.”

On and on the dictator orders. Sometimes I’ve succumbed to his ways. Other times I’ve resisted. Always I battle.

Other people listen to different dictators telling them what to do, what to think, where to go, what to say, how to act. Obeying a dictator is easy; it’s the aftermath that hurts. We struggle with guilt, sadness, disgust, anger at the dictator and disappointment with ourselves. But if we refuse to give in to the dictator’s demands, things usually turn out well.

Who is this dictator? His character is that of a lying tempter, and his name is Satan. All of these inner battles are fought on the landscape of right versus wrong, and when we obey the voice of the dictator, wrong wins.

Interestingly, Jesus wrestled against the dictator exactly as we do today. While he was a man on earth, Satan literally tormented him with temptations, desperate to take down the Son of God. On one occasion he taunted, scolded and attacked Jesus relentlessly for 40 days and nights straight. For Jesus it was every bit as difficult to win over temptation as it is for us today, yet he resisted 100%.

The good news is that when we turn away from the dictator repeatedly, he’ll eventually stop goading us, at least for a while. The bad news is Jesus was incessantly tempted while he was a man, which is why we know the same will be true for us. But there’s more good news. Jesus knows exactly how we feel, and being the success story he is, he can counsel us on how to be victorious against the dictator.

I wonder what his suggestions would be for getting three babies to sleep?

“Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, left the Jordan and was led by the Spirit into the wilderness, where for forty days he was tempted by the devil. Because he himself suffered when he was tempted, he is able to help those who are being tempted.” (Luke 4:1-2, Hebrews 2:18)

Skipping stones eventually sink.

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After we’d had five children in ten years, I felt stretched to the limit and had gradually morphed into a bad mother. I saw myself like a skipping stone nicking the surface of parenting, in, out, in, out, giving each child only tiny bits of time and attention. If things didn’t change, I knew I’d end up like the stone: sunk.

One day when the kids were 12, 10, 8, 4 and 3, we’d had a compilation of mini-crises (i.e. spilled juice, a cut finger, a broken toy, lots of teasing), and I was frayed at the edges. If I heard the word “mommy” even one more time, I’d thought I’d crack.

Then, as I tried to make dinner, the four year old began peppering me with new questions, and not just any questions. These I had to think about. He not only called me “mommy” with each question but decided to begin and end with it.

  • Mommy, why does Papa ride the train, Mommy?
  • Mommy, why doesn’t Papa drive the train, Mommy?
  • Mommy, when can I get on the train, Mommy?
  • Mommy, where should we go on the train, Mommy?

His questions came from a bottomless well of healthy childhood curiosity, and on a non-stressed day, dialoging would have been fun. That day, though, I couldn’t handle it.

By his tenth question (or so), the three year old joined in:

  • Mommy, can I have a cookie, Mommy?
  • Mommy, can I have a drink, Mommy?

Like a skipping stone on its last landing, I whirled around to face them and said, in an angry voice, “Stop calling me Mommy! And don’t ever call me Mommy again!”

Even as the words zipped through the air, I knew they were idiotic and hurtful. Instantly God reminded me of a conversation 12 years earlier with my firstborn: “C’mon, honey. Say Mommy. Mommy. You can do it! Mom – my.”

And suddenly I felt terrible. These little boys loved me with all-out adoration, everything about me. They wanted to be with me, talk to me, listen to me, hug me… and say my name. I was their mommy, the person above all others.

In relation to parenting, I often think with amazement that I’m a child of God. He and I have a precious Father-daughter relationship, and he never gets tired of hearing me say his name.

Instead he responds, “Come to me. Any time. I’m here for you. Always. I love you.”

And best of all he adds, “Now that you’re my child, you can call me Abba.”

That’s the equivalent of Daddy. He tells me I’m as much his child as Jesus, and since Jesus calls him Abba, I can, too. This privilege makes me weep, because I know I don’t deserve it. Yet he says, “That’s exactly how I see you, Margaret, as my daughter.”

On that difficult day with my children, I dropped to my kitchen floor (just like a sinking stone) and gathered my two little boys into my lap, hoping to undo the damage. But I wonder…

“Because we are his children, God has sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, prompting us to call out, ‘Abba, Father’.” (Galatians 4:6)

The Thrill of It All

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Today my college buddies came to church with me, making it easier to be without Nate. We found seats in the back and were settled in to worship when I noticed the family sitting in front of us with four young children. My best guesses were: a boy of 12, girls about 8 and 9 and another boy around 6. All of them were well behaved as the service proceeded, and the mother, sitting in the middle, continually quick-glanced in both directions to monitor them. She never needed to shush them, though, since they were so good.

Toward the end of the service, she leaned over to her youngest boy, probably a first grader, and whispered, “Yes, you can take communion today.”

It was as if he’d been told there was a new bike waiting for him in the parking lot. He wiggled and squirmed with excitement he could barely contain, gently tugging on his older brother’s sleeve as if to say, “Did you hear that? Mom said yes!”

As the plate of crackers came, he didn’t hesitate but took one and passed it on. Soft music played as he studied his tiny treasure and looked at his mother’s face. She smiled and put her hands together to let him know he should pray, and he immediately bowed his head. When the pastor gave the signal to eat, he looked at his brother, who gave him the go-ahead. A similar routine occurred with the cup.

I can’t stop thinking about this little guy’s enthusiasm for communion. He made a joyful mark on me, and I knew God was watching him with satisfaction. I prayed this child would always remember the happiness he felt as he took communion for the first time.

Children are naturally drawn to Jesus. It was detailed in Scripture and is still true today. God must have endowed them with a special understanding of his love for them. They never question it and usually receive salvation as the uncomplicated free gift it is. They have no thoughts of “But what about this or that…” and readily take the Lord at his word. They trust he is who he says he is and will do what he says he’ll do. What delight this must bring to the heart of the Father. If only we adults could think in this unfettered way.

The little boy’s behavior showed he’d been prepared for communion, schooled in the deep significance of the cross. I hope when he put his head on the pillow tonight, his mom or dad asked for his thoughts about the morning, because I’m sure he could have taught them something.

Once in a while, all of us would do well to think like a child.

“Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and eat with him, and he with me.” (Rev. 3:20)