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!

Managing my expectations at Christmas

Look at this gingerbread house. The cheerful candy has nearly disappeared and the icing sidewalk has been consumed. We built it just a few days ago. This wasn't how I envisioned our gingerbread village would look with a week to go until Christmas...
I just assumed that the kids were aware of how the whole gingerbread house thing works. You build it, you decorate it, and then it sits around until after Christmas sometime when you gleefully demolish it and nibble at the stale candy and icing, pretending that it's delicious. I forgot that, last Christmas, we built and decorated the gingerbread village at Grandma's house and then we left it there, where it was safe from little fingers. It took me a couple days of saying "No" at least a hundred times and dealing with escalating levels of defiance and disobedience before I realized my mistake. I had set us up for this misery by putting something they really wanted out in plain view and then expecting them to be okay with being told they can't eat it. It was, in hindsight, an unrealistic expectation.

I've known for a long time that one of our kiddos in particular has great difficulty handling disappointment. If things don't go the way he expects them to go, he can melt down very quickly. We've learned that this is fairly common for children from hard places - hearing the word 'no' and feeling like circumstances are out of their control can trigger a fight, flight or freeze fear response. They may be reacting out of a fear of abandonment ("When you say 'no' I feel like you don't love me") or perhaps they need to feel in control because life has been chaotic in the past and their fear is driving their need to be in charge. Whatever the underlying beliefs are that our children brought with them to our family, the result is the same: they are incredibly fragile when it comes to accepting the word 'no.' This does not mean that we can't ever say 'no' to our kids. We will try to be gentle and compassionate, though, and give them chances - outside of the moment - to practice being okay with a 'no' through fun activities like role play and puppets. We'll also practice pausing before we say 'no' to figure out if we're reacting with a negative response for mostly selfish reasons when we could be giving a joyful 'yes.'

As I reflect on the now destroyed gingerbread village, I realize that I have a lot of expectations of how things will go at Christmas. I love times of anticipation, and I expected that my kids would as well. I remember picking up and shaking presents, savoring the feelings of hope and excitement. That kind of anticipation is almost unbearable for one of our children; the stress is just too much for his system. This year, we are spacing out the gift giving, instead of keeping it all for Christmas morning, hoping that helps him cope a bit better. The kids also started a new tradition with my mom - she took them shopping (one at a time) and let them pick out their own gift. They then wrapped it and left it under the tree at her house for a few days before they opened it. They did really well with that waiting! (And what a sweet Christmas tradition with Grandma!) So I find myself adjusting my expectations. Is it a big deal if we eat our gingerbread village within days of building it? Not really. Next year I might try buying two: one for eating and one for looking at. Is it a big deal if the kids know what they're getting before they open their presents, or if they get to open one a week or two before Christmas? Not at all. As they get older, we can practice waiting and guide them as they learn to navigate seasons of anticipation.

In the meantime, I will practice taking a step back, breathing deeply, and asking myself some important questions when I start to feel frustrated and impatient: Is this a realistic expectation? Is my expectation based merely on tradition, and is it a big deal if things don't look the way I thought they would? Am I looking at my children with eyes of compassion and working to understand where they are coming from? Ultimately, I am grateful for the demise of our gingerbread village. It's been an important reminder of the need to slow down, reflect, and try to make this season, the one that's supposed to be all about joy and hope and peace and love, a little less stressful for our family.

I'd love to hear more ideas - what do you do to take the pressure off your kiddos at Christmas?

Advent thoughts

Last November I read a great post about Advent - "Advent, Not Christmas" - and I've been thinking about it ever since. I don't recall learning much about the liturgical calendar as a child, so I always thought of Advent as a countdown to Christmas, often involving chocolate! I have learned that it is much, much more. In Stacey's own words:

Christmas is a season of triumph and joy. We rejoice in the coming of our King; we rejoice in the knowledge that God lowered himself, and took the position of a human baby so that we might know him better. Advent, by contrast, is a time of sober reflection and preparation. Advent is the experience of waiting with Israel for the Christ – and waiting together as the church for the second coming of Jesus. It’s the fast that makes the feast taste extra good.
What are we missing when we skip over Advent?
The fast before the feast, yes – but also something else. Advent gives us the opportunity to tell God that things are still not right down here. We weep over the state of the world; we bring to God those things in our own lives that aren’t right. Advent establishes in the people of God a renewed sense of longing for Christ’s second coming – for the day when all things shall be renewed under the lordship of Christ. As we wait with Israel, we feel some of Israel’s pain and desperation – and we join our own pain and desperation to it. We see oppression, war, and hunger in the world and we acknowledge that this is not the way things should be, that this is not God’s intention for the world. We stand in the face of injustice, sorrow, and sickness and say: “Come, Lord Jesus, come.”

Things are still not right down here. Those are exactly the words I need right now. I was feeling a little overwhelmed with sadness last night... Four families I know and care deeply for have experienced the loss of a loved one in recent days. A couple we met a year ago are ready and willing to bring 4 precious children home from Uganda, and they are facing delay after excruciating delay. Other adoptive and foster couples are sharing their hearts with us, opening up about the difficulties and heartache and despair of raising children from hard places. And then there are natural disasters, and school shootings, and it feels like too much. However... when I read Stacey's words and I think about the season of Advent, I realize it's okay to be desperate and hurting right now. This is not the way things should be. Families should not be facing such tragic losses. Children should not be falling asleep tonight without knowing the love of a family. So we bring all these things before God and we tell Him about it. We mourn and grieve and get mad and wonder how these things can possibly be happening...

But Advent is not all about darkness and despair. We acknowledge our pain and our desperation, and we also look forward to the coming of the One who will make all things new. We celebrate the birth of our Saviour, the One who is already and always in the business of rescuing us. We give thanks that He is present, that He is with us, in the middle of our despair, and that He has a plan to redeem it all. In the words of Sally Lloyd-Jones in The Jesus Storybook Bible (as she paraphrases Revelation 21:3,4):

One day, John knew, Heaven would come down and mend God's broken world and make it our true, perfect home once again.
And he knew, in some mysterious way that would be hard to explain, that everything was going to be more wonderful for once having been so sad.
And he knew then that the ending of The Story was going to be so great, it would make all the sadness and tears and everything seem like just a shadow that is chased away by the morning sun.

So, we wait. We acknowledge the darkness and we look forward to the time when the Light of the world will dispel the darkness forever. O come, o come, Emmanuel!

(illustration on pg. 185 of The Jesus Storybook Bible)