Skipping the Conversations

“Bill, I don’t know what to do. Every time my son needs correction, I try to sit him down, talk to him about his heart, read to him from the Scriptures and instruct him, ask him heart questions, then discipline him, pray with him, and assure him of my love. But every time I do, he just won’t listen and he fights against me and sometimes just leaves in the middle of it. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong!”

“Remind me again how old you little guy is.”

“He’s two.”

“Ah, yes, I know what the problem is: he’s two. All that talking and instructing and asking questions–he’s just too young. A time will come for that, but you’re just not there yet!”

I remember having this conversation with my friend several years ago. I was a few years ahead in parenting and freely felt I could tell him that while those steps are great, his son was simply not old enough and developed enough. I felt then (and still do) that there’s really not much conversation that needs to happen in those younger ages. You just don’t reason with a toddler. I mean, seriously. It’s painful to try. They certainly need instruction, correction, and assurance of love, but there’s not usually much more to it until they grow older.

The problem is that I had this conversation six years ago. And I said it knowing that “there would come a time” when conversations would increase and discipline would involve more dialogue than it ever had in the past. But now I have an eleven-year-old and somewhere along the way I missed my exit, still cruising on “How to Raise a Toddler” highway.

Which means that a whole lot of my parenting is a whole lot of my talking and my kids doing a whole lot of not talking.

Honestly, I’ve not transitioned well. And I really like that my kids are hitting that tween phase. But the reality is that I’ve transitioned poorly to having intellectually and emotionally capable kids who want to talk and process, and I don’t afford them the opportunity.

So, what does that mean? It’s funny, because it’s still in many ways new territory for me. Like Hermione Granger, when at loss I turn to books! I’m slated to read Age of Opportunity by Paul David Tripp soon and hope to follow that up with Everyday Talk by Jay Younts. And in these opportunities for talking and discussing, I know there are a few goals I want to accomplish:

  1. Hear from my kids and help them learn to talk through their sins, temptations, and troubles. This is something I’m particularly poor at even as an adult, so I want to train my kids how to speak openly and plainly about the deep matters of their hearts.
  2. Help them go to the Scriptures and understand how they apply to them. I’m certainly capable of doing this for them, but they’re at the age where I need to start handing them the reins. I want them to start making the link between their attitudes and behaviors to God’s Word, because I can’t meditate on the Word for them.
  3. Teach them how to process their sin against God and against others, and the appropriate responses for those sins. While this would certainly include seeking forgiveness from the one sinned against, what I’m particularly thinking about here is determining if any restitution needs to be made. I always find this tricky, because I don’t want the kids thinking they can atone for their sins (they can’t). Rather I want them to see that all sin has temporal consequences in addition to eternal ones–and they have a responsibility for those temporal consequences, whether that’s replacing something or offering a service or whatever. But I want to lead the kids into figuring this out instead of simply telling them.
  4. Begin the process (slowly!) of treating my kids like the adults they will be. Even though they’re not adults yet and still have years to go, there will come a day when they are neither under my watch nor under my authority. I want my children to see that my authority has always been derivative. Self-discipline and self-assessment will be the tools to remind them to follow the authorities that will come after me, and much more the authority of the triune God himself. This is really just a fancy way of saying I want them to learn obedience apart from my presence–because God is ever-present.

What about you readers out there? Those of you with tweens and older, how have you found ways to connect with your kids? What have you done to train them for the day they won’t be under your roof anymore? Do you have any resources you’d recommend?

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Tis’ the Season

I used to hate winter. I hated the cold temperatures that made me feel like a prisoner in my own home and the gray and brown colors that seem to dominate everything. In the past couple of years, I’ve realized my feelings about the season have changed:

The low temperatures remind me of how cold and dead my heart is without Jesus, and somehow it brings me comfort when I feel the bite of a winter wind. I know that only love can thaw a frozen heart. Not the love of a sister, but of a Savior.

The neutral colors make me remember that I can’t keep God in a box. He created all colors, not just the vibrant ones, and he’s far more complex and beautiful than every one of them. The contrast of gray sky pops out the dark landscape, helping me see minute details I don’t notice otherwise. And I see that beauty often comes from darkness.

The bare trees show me inner beauty and how apart from it, outer beauty is pointless. I could look at branches and knots on wood for days. Few things are more intricate. But I want the leaves. They cover the flaws. I want people to praise the leaves I put on myself in the form of hair, makeup, and clothes, praying they don’t see all the yucky parts. I forget that the yucky parts, the ones that have withheld through the elements, the chips and strikes, the twists and bumps, the weaknesses, are the parts God uses to blossom me into looking more like him, becoming more seasoned and gorgeous from the inside out.

The quiet. The blessed, craved quiet of winter. When animals are sleeping, when neighbors are inside, when crickets stop chirping, and when the air itself seems to be sleeping. These moments are the times I most see the beauty in simply resting in Christ because he did all the work for me.

Winter helps me see that I’m incredible flawed. I’m the worst wife, mother, friend, and servant of all of mankind, completely dreary and dead on my own. Yet when God looks at me, he sees his Son, the most beautiful spring. I’m dormant, waiting for the life that’s mine, a life I did nothing to earn.

And I’ll sit here and marinate in the beauty of winter while I wait.

“Here is a trustworthy saying that deserves full acceptance: Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners—of whom I am the worst. But for that very reason I was shown mercy so that in me, the worst of sinners, Christ Jesus might display his immense patience as an example for those who would believe in him and receive eternal life.”

‭‭1 Timothy‬ ‭1:15-16‬ ‭NIV‬‬