Crazy?! Definitely.

Why do difficult parenting moments have to happen at church?! In theory, I'm all for keeping it real and letting other people see us as we really are, I just wish it didn't feel so uncomfortable...! Take Tuesday morning, for example. We had a very busy weekend with family and friends in Saskatchewan, and we probably should have stayed home for the day, but I had already missed the previous week's study and I really wanted a little time away from the kids. Everything went well until one of the boys dug in his heels and refused to go in to his class. This happens with this particular child once in a while; I'm still trying to figure out what motivates it. Sometimes I wonder if he's over-tired, other times I sense that he is needing extra closeness - perhaps because we got a little tense and impatient in the process of getting ready to go to church?! This particular morning, I suspect he was needing a quiet morning at home (as quiet as it gets at our place, at least) and some cuddle time with mommy.

Even though I knew what was likely motivating his resistance, I still felt frustrated when I saw his little body flop to the floor and his bottom lip jut out. My mind quickly calculated how many minutes of "me time" I was going to have to sacrifice to get him to a point where he'd be willing to go in to his class. I tried a few potential quick fixes, hoping that if I stayed connected and compassionate he'd hop through that doorway and I'd be free. No luck. By this time, a couple of kind souls had already tried to cajole him in to detaching from me, but this just made it worse. He responds to those types of interventions by burrowing his face in to whatever part of me is closest, and I respond by getting defensive and annoyed. I was now finding it extremely difficult to stay compassionate to my son's emotional state because I was busy imagining the mix of pity and criticism with which other people were viewing the whole situation. Wondering if I'd have to just pack up and go home, I decided to try one more thing. I put on my mental blinders in an effort to shield myself from my perception of other people's opinions, and headed down to the cafe. I bought a coffee for myself and a yogurt for the boy, and we sat down at a table. I'd like to say it was a warm and fuzzy time of connection, but it wasn't. He ate his yogurt while persisting in his insistence that he wanted to stay with me. I drank my coffee while persisting in my efforts to not let self-pity and frustration overwhelm me. Within 10 minutes he agreed that he could probably go to class, so maybe low blood sugar was part of the issue. Whatever it was, I was finally able to drop him off and join the ladies at my table.

At some point in the morning, our conversation turned to the topic of how critical and judgmental we are of each other as parents. We talked about the pressure to be "Super Mom" and how none of us feel up to that challenge. We agreed that we all feel judged (at times) by others, and that we are all prone to feel critical (at times) of others. I think that if we are serious about pursuing deeper relationships and developing our ability to treat others with grace and compassion, we need to deal with both ends - our tendency towards both superiority and inadequacy. Parenting isn't a competition; it's a relationship. And if I'm caught up in the trap of comparing myself to others and worrying about what they're thinking, then I'm not free to be fully present for my children, and my relationship with them will suffer.

As I practice keeping my focus on my children and what they need, I am encouraged by the example of Jesus in John 4:6-42. While resting at a well, a woman comes to draw water and he engages her in conversation, asking her for a drink. She is surprised and his disciples are shocked that he would speak to a woman in this way, let alone a Samaritan woman. But that's one of the many cool things about Jesus - he doesn't let the opinions of others, even his closest friends, stop him from seeing and meeting the needs of hurting people. The fact that he sees this woman (and offers to meet the deepest needs of her soul with grace and love) changes her life and the lives of many in her village. It's a beautiful picture of just how crazy he is about us - that he would risk acting scandalously to bring healing and hope to our wounded souls. I'm pretty crazy about my kids, and my prayer is that I will keep my focus on what's most important as I parent them.

The Pursuit of Comfort

I really had no idea that becoming a parent would involve learning so much about myself. I was prepared to learn about my kids, to learn some strategies, even to learn about God. I thought I knew myself fairly well... turns out I've got a lot to learn about a lot of things!

One area I'm learning lots about these days is just how much I like being comfortable, and how my pursuit of comfort manifests itself in different areas of my life. I try to avoid discomfort in all sorts of ways in my parenting. I find it uncomfortable to move closer to the kids when I need to talk to them; I'd much rather holler from a distance. I don't really enjoy bundling them up to go outside on a snowy day; I'm much more comfortable indoors. Learning how to stay connected with my kids in the middle of the most trying moments has certainly been rewarding, but I wouldn't say the process of un-learning and learning different ways of parenting has been comfortable; it's distinctly uncomfortable at times. And here's one from this morning: I dislike offering sincere apologies to my children when I've screwed up. I find a certain comfort in the "I'm right, they're wrong, and they deserve what's coming to them" line of thinking; it's easier than humbling myself, acknowledging my harsh words and actions, and asking for forgiveness. I've written before about my love of comfort as a parent - apparently it's time to work on it again... and again...

What's really been hitting me the last while, though, is how very dangerous the pursuit of comfort can be. The consequences are fairly easy to see when I reflect on my relationships - an unwillingness to practice humility and 'inconvenience' myself will limit the depth of those relationships. But what happens when my unwillingness to step in to uncomfortable situations motivates me when I'm confronted with suffering in the world around me? Will I be too busy making myself comfortable to make a difference? Will I, like the priest and the Levite in the story of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10), avert my eyes and walk by because getting too close to suffering is inconvenient and painful? And what happens when entire groups of people - churches, cities, nations - actively pursue comfort? Is that perhaps, in part, what is perpetuating the inequities and injustices present in our world today?

This has been a bit of a journey for me. After meeting a man named Roy last July, I've had a number of interesting encounters. And it's all felt, well, uncomfortable. But I think that's the point. I think that growth, especially the kind of transformation Paul talks about in Romans 12:2, is going to feel awkward and even painful at times. Whenever Jesus spoke of the cost of being his disciple, he painted a pretty grim picture - see Luke 9:57-62 or 14:25-27, for example. And I don't think any of us can do this in our own strength. Learning how to see and think and feel and act differently will take a lot of hard work, but we're not alone - thank God, we have his Holy Spirit empowering us!

So, I'll press on. Daily, moment by moment, trying to remember to lay aside my desire for comfort, and replacing it with the pursuit of discipleship. Turning into, instead of away from, the messiness of life. And maybe, after a few thousand (million?!) baby steps, being uncomfortable will start to feel a bit more natural. And then I guess I'll have to step it up a notch - wouldn't want to get comfortable...

More mess, less math

I have a sneaking suspicion my left brain is a tad more well-developed than my right. I love predictability and order, logic and lists. I love that when the left brain is described, four words are used that all start with the same letter: Language, Linear, Logic, Literal. Alliterations please me. As do numbers that are the same forwards as they are backwards. Just ask my husband, my brother or my high school bff how happy I get when I see a number like this on my odometer:

(And please ignore the fact that my van was obviously not at a standstill when I took this picture. Clearly, I am not well.)

Math was one of my favourite subjects in school. Okay, I'll be honest, I just loved school. (Almost all of it - the relationships stressed me out, but that makes sense since relational stuff like nonverbal cues and emotion are part of the right brain's domain.) So it's not surprising that I've approached parenting from a left-brain, mathematical mindset. Deep down, I believe that if I can just do everything correctly, then I will get the results I want with my kids. Take sleep, for example. I find it somewhat distressing that no matter how hard I try to make sure I've done everything "right" (good food, physical activity, fresh air, little/no tv...) I still can't guarantee a good night's sleep for my kids. Shouldn't  A + B always = C?! And what about those dreaded transitions - if I give a certain son gentle reminders and a 5-minute warning, and I keep my voice calm, then he should be able to get his little behind into the van without stalling. If only parenting neatly followed "If, then" logic!

I am slowly discovering just how much my frustration level is linked to my belief that parenting can be reduced to simple arithmetic. I am learning that relationships are often messy and unpredictable, and that intimacy doesn't always take logical, linear paths. So how do I move from a left-brained approach to a more integrated approach? How do I parent in a more balanced, holistic way? Paying attention to the underlying beliefs that are driving my behaviour is a good place to start - my children are precious human beings with their own thoughts, feelings, and expectations, not numbers that can be manipulated to meet my need for order. As I am more intentional about embracing the right-brain stuff of life, such as emotions and nonverbal cues, I'll become more attuned to my own needs and the needs of others. This will enable me to know others and be known by others on a much deeper level - and that sounds like somewhere I'd like to live... A place where I'm known and loved, and am free to know and love others because of it. I've been warned that living like this takes a lot of hard work, and that it will often look a little messy, but it's like Curt Thompson said at the Tapestry Conference this past weekend: "Life is not about not being messy. It's about being creative with the messes that you have." So, here's to embracing messes as opportunities for creativity, something the kids in our lives already know how to do really well! Apparently this messy hall closet is actually a gondola (in case that wasn't immediately obvious)!

Now to convince the left side of my brain that it really will be better off if it works in harmony with the right side now and then. Remember, it's not a mess - it's an opportunity for adventure and creativity!