The weapon of peace

Parenting can feel like a battle. Whether it’s chores, homework, screen time, sibling dynamics, or just ‘the way his face looks’ the potential for conflict seems never ending. It’s so easy to get frustrated and take an adversarial stance against our children. Just a few days ago, I was feeling annoyed that our morning routine was getting derailed. Again. I found myself sighing in exasperation, rolling my eyes, and generally communicating to my child that he was the source of my irritation. My adversary. I managed to get them off to school (just a few minutes late) and I started thinking about what may have caused the rough morning. I remembered that I had spent a good chunk of the previous evening with one of the other kids, which likely left the derailer feeling left out and unloved. I found myself sighing again, in exhaustion this time, wondering how much longer I could continue to do battle against this invisible enemy, these voices in my child’s head whispering lies of unworthiness and impending rejection.

Thinking about our conflict as a spiritual battle got me to thinking about the armour of God Paul talks about in Ephesians 6. “For shoes,” he says, “put on the peace that comes from the Good News…” (v. 15). Hmmm… peace… that’s an interesting thing to take into battle. The more I thought about it though, the more it made perfect sense. When one of my children is feeling overcome by fear and shame, they don’t need me as an adversary, they need me as an ally. They need me to bring peace to help calm the chaos and confusion and pain in their minds.

Thankfully, I had a chance for a redo that afternoon. Conflict broke out over the use of Grandpa’s tools. Child A had had a long turn, and Child B was feeling jealous and left out. Rather than using good words to ask for a turn, unkind words were used and things got physical. Child B, likely ashamed by this point, escalated and had to be removed from the situation. Determined to behave better than I had that morning, I  stayed calm and stuck to a short script. “I’m not mad. You’ll get a turn with the tools. You’re not allowed to hurt people.” It took a few minutes (and a phone chat with Daddy) but we got to the point where an apology was given, respectful words were used to ask for a turn, and we were back on track. Peace won the battle!

Too often I respond to conflict situations with force. My weapons of choice often include sarcasm and shame. Lately, my ‘Voice of Authority’ has been a bit too shrill, and much too loud. So, in this season of ‘Peace on earth and goodwill to all’ I am going to be more intentional about bringing peace. Small adjustments to my body language and tone of voice bring great returns in conflict situations. My little people need to know that I’m there as their ally, not their adversary!

"Don't embarrass me..."

My four-year-old and I were visiting my dad at his office the other day. As we were leaving, he walked down the hall with us and started heading towards the bathroom. In a loud, clear voice, my daughter asked, “You going pee, Grandpa?” There were a few other people standing around and they chuckled. My first instinct was to tell her that we shouldn’t point out other people’s bathroom needs in public, but knowing how sensitive she is to being told she’s made a mistake, I stayed quiet and waited to see how Grandpa would handle it. He smiled at her and remained non-committal, neither confirming nor denying his need! Her question didn’t really get answered, but as we walked away she had a bounce in her step and I knew that her heart was okay. I’m confident that she will soon learn not to publicly announce people’s bathroom needs!

I wonder, though, whether I am as confident that I will be able to un-learn those instincts that would shush her and point out her errors in front of other people. It’s something I struggle with, these feelings of embarrassment that drive me to respond in less than desirable ways. Whether it’s a meltdown in the grocery store, a display of defiance at church, or a poorly timed observation, I too often find myself thinking about what other people are thinking instead of what my children need.

If I’m embarrassed, I’m unlikely to recognize their behaviour for what it is: an unmet need. Honestly, I’m more comfortable thinking of meltdowns and defiance as misbehaviour that needs to be disciplined rather than as needs that need to be met with equal parts nurture and structure. The more we learn about our children, though, the more we are realizing that what we used to think of as misbehaviour is actually an opportunity for us to meet a need and connect with them. The correction will come, but often it needs to wait until the need has been met and my child and I are re-connected. Sometimes their needs are physical – hunger, thirst, exhaustion, sensory overload – and other times their needs are emotional – unexpressed sadness, fear, and frustration. Whatever the case, I will not be able to see past the behaviour to the need if I am blinded by my own embarrassment.

So what is at the root of being embarrassed by our children? What is driving this blinding flood of emotions? Embarrassment is all too often a manifestation of shame, and if we can learn to see it for what it is, then we can take steps to own it and deal with it.

When my children are not behaving as I would like them to and I feel embarrassed, I am actually experiencing shame because I am afraid that other people are judging my worth based on my kids’ behaviour. Since I don’t enjoy feeling worthless, I am tempted to transfer my shame to my children by communicating my embarrassment to them and using shame to motivate them to behave more appropriately. Of course, this is a short-term solution at best. I may achieve better behaviour in the moment (or I may not), but am I really okay knowing that I have contributed to my child’s own feelings of shame?

As an adult, I recognize that I have carried a lot of shame around in the form of insecurity and fear; this is not a burden I want to place on my children. Part of my journey in the last while has been learning to rest securely in the fact that my identity is rooted in God’s great love for me. My abilities as a parent do not determine my worth, nor does the behaviour of my children. As I practice resting in this truth, I find that I am better able to focus on my child in those difficult moments and have become less distracted by my own fear and embarrassment.

One of my desires as a parent is that my children will know deep, deep down in their souls that they are precious and loved. It will be difficult for them to believe this if they think they’re an embarrassment to me. So I must continue to work to identify the ways in which I am motivated by shame, and fight against those tendencies with the truth of my identity as a deeply loved child of God. Then I will be free to teach my children about their true identity, their great worth and preciousness, especially in those moments when it would be easy to teach the very opposite.

(This post originally appeared at Empowered to Connect.)

Battleground

Taunts and accusations

Launched like missiles across a crowded hallway

Seeking the heat of my shame

Finding their mark, then and now

Fear flickers, icy hot

Anger rises to smother the shame

Replacing it with something cold and hard, brittle

Eyes averted, I forge ahead

Desperate for an ally, weapons, a more suitable arena in which to engage my enemy

My fists close tight around the stones I've found

Fuelled by fury I'm poised to attack 

But then...

A face emerges from the crowd

Irresistible

Eyes locked on His, I'm seen

Known

Embraced

Rescued

Captivated by light and love, the arena fades

His the only face I see

Suddenly, inexplicably soft my fingers unclench

Stones fall to the ground

All I know is love 

Enough

Shame
like a stain,
an ink bottle overturned,
blackness spreading, suffocating.
I strive and scrub and try to make it clean...
Futile.
I crumble, defeated.
Whispers from the darkness overwhelm me, accusations fly -

worthless
hypocrite
who do you think you are?!

And I am convinced that I am not enough.
Inadequate.

if only...
you were more organized
more patient
more self-controlled

if only...
you could get out of debt
get in shape
lose weight
get to places on time

then, and only then...

BUT THEN

Light breaks through!
The darkness trembles.
The only Voice that matters says,

I'm here, in this dark place, waiting... for YOU.
I AM ENOUGH.
You're covered.
I love you.

I realize - the choice is mine.
I turn - again - toward the light.
The darkness is banished
The hissing voice silenced

Truth washes over me like a rushing river
and I hear His voice whisper
and it feels like a roar -

You are mine.
You are beautiful.
I've got big plans for your precious life.
TRUST ME!

And I am undone.

Free
Loved
Complete
ENOUGH.