"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 

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?

Imagine with me!

I got a phone call yesterday that kind of broke my heart. A woman, also heartbroken, explained her friend's situation then asked, "What can we do?" Her friend was caring for an 18-month-old girl who was likely going to be apprehended by child and family services. Her friend had cared for this girl before, had seen the girl's mother come back into her life, and had taken the girl back when the mother left. Again. Already overwhelmed by her own situation and unable to care for this girl long-term, this woman called her friend, who called me. What can we do? 

I wanted to thank her for calling me and to reassure her that we could help. I wanted to tell her that we knew of a number of families who were licensed foster homes, ready and willing to welcome this precious child and surround her with the love of Jesus. I wanted to be able to connect her with people who would not only welcome this precious child, but who would commit to building a relationship with the girl's mother, if possible, and assist her in her efforts to parent her daughter. I wanted to tell her that we were surrounded by an army of like-minded people, people who knew firsthand the redemptive and restorative power of our great God and were eager to see redemption and restoration become reality in the lives of foster children and their families. I wanted to tell her of a network of support, of people ready to provide meals and respite and listening ears and prayer. I wanted to tell her that I could connect her with people who had counted the cost, answered this particular call, and were living in the glorious freedom of faithfully following our Lord into the broken and messy places.

Instead, I told her that unless she knew of a licensed foster home, there was little we could do. I explained how the system works, or what I know of it, and I listened to her. I offered a couple of ideas for ways to stay connected with this girl, perhaps through respite. I hung up, my spirit restless and discontent. I know foster families like this exist. I know there are people who view foster care as a calling, who commit to walking out this calling with courage and compassion. I've heard stories of birth mothers welcomed into families, and given the opportunity to learn from the foster mother. I've heard of mothers eased back into motherhood by being allowed to rock their babies to sleep in a foster home. I know a foster mom who took a young mom under her wing and taught her how to throw a birthday party for her child. I have read of another foster mom who has committed to staying connected with children that have been in her care, and makes herself available to provide respite (relief care) for the biological family who is working hard to keep it together. I know of a foster family being stretched way beyond what they thought they could do so that they can keep a sibling group together. I know foster families who have welcomed a child temporarily, then realized that this child was home, and become that child's forever family through adoption.

So, why did I not have more to offer on the phone yesterday? I'm sure there are many reasons. I'm sure we could do more to raise awareness, and to get connected with foster families, and to be more intentional about seeing this vision become reality. I'm also sure there is great need for more families to rise up in obedience and answer the call God has placed on their hearts to care for the most vulnerable in our society. What can we do?? How can we build a community of families determined to see God's kingdom come, His will done, His children cared for? Will you pray with me that the Lord will raise up people committed to bringing His justice - His restoration and redemption - to the world? Let's do this. Let's lay aside our expectations for how our lives will look, and let's ask the Lord to give us eyes to see what He has for us, and for our world through us.

Vision check

I need new glasses. It's been a few years, and I've been noticing that things are starting to get a little fuzzy. I think I might try a Groupon this time, seeing as my mom had a good experience with one recently. My plans for new glasses aren't really worth writing about, but it's got me thinking about vision in general. In Deep & Wide, Andy Stanley writes about the need for churches to have a "God-honoring, mouthwatering, unambiguously clear vision." (page 270) He asserts that without this clarity of vision, churches will not be able to make the types of changes necessary to do what they are meant to do. I believe this applies to our individual lives as well. If we don't have a clear vision for our lives, then we are likely to make decisions that simply move us further along the path we're already on. Is this a problem? For me, at least, it is. My heart has been gripped with a deep desire to live a life that's about more than just me. I don't want to default to the path of ease and comfort, the path that I'm told I deserve. I want a path that gives me opportunities to be part of making a difference in the world, even if it is messy and uncomfortable and doesn't look much like the path our culture tells me is most desirable.

This past weekend we had the great privilege of hearing from two former senior pastors as we celebrated the 75th anniversary of First Alliance Church. It was a wonderful service, and I was reminded of just how much I appreciate Terry Young's preaching! He spoke about story, and how many of us get caught up in a story that's all about us. He pointed us to Jesus, and reminded us that we are part of a much bigger story, a story of redemption. I want to be part of that bigger story. I want to be part of something that points people to freedom, that helps them find a path that leads them to the love of Jesus.

This is where our vision can start to blur, though. We are faced with opportunities every day. Suffering and need are everywhere - where do we start? How do we help? Children without families, flood victims without homes, slaves without freedom... The needs can be overwhelming and paralyzing: in a world with so much need, how can I make a difference? This, I believe, is where vision comes in. The fact that I can't do everything should not stop me from doing something, so I need to figure out what that something is. I need vision. I am reminded of something else Pastor Terry said once. He was talking about what we spend our lives doing, and how many people talk about their need to learn to say 'no.' He suggested that perhaps we really need to learn to say 'yes.' Maybe we need to figure out what it is we're meant to do, say "Yes!" to that, and the rest will fall in to place. This is clarity of vision. Too bad there's no Groupon for that!

So, what is my 'yes'? What is my vision? Am I going to default to the comfortable, relatively easy path of living for those things our culture tells me to live for? Or am I going to let God expand my vision and lead me to a path that lets me be part of something much more adventurous, messy, breathtaking and significant? If I am not intentional about pursuing a God-sized vision, I'm in danger of settling for a Colleen-sized vision. I'm convinced there's more to life than that. I believe our world needs us to pursue a vision that will take us far beyond ourselves, a vision that will "bring good news to the poor and proclaim freedom for the prisoners." (Luke 4:18)

Lord, give us a vision of what it means to be your hands, your feet, your heart, your body in a world that desperately needs to know You. Help us see!

Why I will continue to tell my daughter of her beauty

Okay. This one's been brewing for a while, so it may turn into a bit of a rant, but the time has come to inject another perspective into the discussion. I'm sure you've come across some of the same articles and graphics as I have on Facebook - you know, the ones that say we should praise our daughters for things other than their beauty. That we should avoid words like "pretty" and "princess". That we should focus on other qualities so that they know they're worth so much more than how they look. And I agree with a lot of that stuff - I definitely want my daughter to know she's valuable and loved for more than her looks. I'm just worried that the pendulum is swinging a little too far to an extreme that says, "It's wrong to want to feel beautiful" and "Let's avoid the topic of physical beauty altogether when talking to girls." What I do agree with in these articles is that we have bought in to a very narrow and life-sucking definition of beauty. I most certainly do not want my daughter to grow up believing that she has to be a certain size, have a certain hair colour, and wear just the right clothes to be considered beautiful. But let's not throw the baby out with the bath water. Just because we live in a culture that tries to sell us the lie that we must meet a certain narrow standard of beauty in order to be desirable and worthy of love, let's not abandon the idea of physical beauty altogether.

As a young girl, I knew I didn't meet the cultural standard for beauty. I can remember comparing myself to the other girls in my class as young as 5 years old, and consoling myself with the fact that there was one other girl who was at least as heavy as me. By the time I got to junior high and a boy tried to hit on me at the back of the bus on a band trip (!) I laughed and tried to act all flirty, but I was actually terrified to take him seriously - he couldn't possibly find me attractive so there was no way I was going to make myself vulnerable enough to do what he was suggesting and get laughed at by everyone when the joke was revealed. By the time I was 29 years old and dating Brian, my belief in my own lack of beauty was so entrenched that I couldn't quite understand why he would call me beautiful. I liked it when he told me that, and his love made (and continues to make) me feel beautiful on the inside, but I struggled to make sense of how he could look at me and use a word like 'beautiful'. I still struggle to accept his compliments after nine years of marriage, and I think that's a shame.

So what did I need as a young girl? Did I need people to focus on my strengths? I think I did that quite well on my own. I became quite confident in my intellect, my sense of humour, and other 'internal' qualities and strengths. I enjoyed excelling at things like math and science, partially because a lot of other girls didn't. I knew the 'real' me was loved by friends and family, but I still felt like the physical part of me was an unfortunate and awkward package. For most of my growing up years and well in to my twenties I feared that no man would ever see past that package to the beauty I knew/hoped was within. And this is one of the things that concerns me with so many of these articles I've read recently: if we ignore our daughters' physical beauty, we are leaving them to form their self-concept and their understanding of their appearance from other sources. They will go to their peers and magazines and movies and all sorts of other shallow, largely incorrect sources to determine how attractive they are. This is not where I want my daughter to get her sense of her own beauty. I do not want her to grow up believing what I believed: "I may not be beautiful, but at least I'm ______________."  I want her to be able to hear the words, "You're beautiful" from a good man in the [very distant] future and know that he is speaking the truth to her. I do not want her so desperate to hear those words from someone, anyone, that she will fall for the first opportunist that comes along.

Ultimately, I want her so grounded in her identity that neither the impossible ideals of our culture nor the shallow praise of people will prevent her from knowing how beautiful she is, inside and out. And this is the other thing that concerns me with so many of these articles that are telling us how to talk to our daughters about their bodies and their beauty: I believe we have lost sight of our true identities. We see clearly enough to know that the beauty ideals showcased in magazines and movies are false and harmful, but rather than search for the truth regarding our own physical beauty, we react against those ideals by shunning the idea of physical beauty altogether. This is not helpful. We can't avoid this topic and believe that our girls will somehow grow up more healthy and balanced than we did. We must search for what is right and true and speak words that give life.

So what is my right and true identity as a woman? What should I be trying to teach my daughter? For this, I must go to the source of all truth and beauty: my Creator. And what does God say about my identity and my beauty? First of all, Genesis 1:27 assures us that we are created in the image of God. This means, among many other things, that I am marked by the beauty of God. The same God who created mountains and lakes and trees and flowers created me! "Then God looked over all he had made, and he saw that it was very good!" (Genesis 1:31) Those words are spoken over me. I am beautiful. In Ephesians 2:10, we learn that we are God's masterpiece, a work of art, a poem. I am beautiful. In Song of Songs, we read of the love between a man and a woman, and we see the pleasure and satisfaction that can come from the enjoyment of physical beauty in the context of romantic love. From this, I learn that my desire to be seen as beautiful is not somehow wrong or shallow, but an important part of who I am created to be. I am beautiful. In Hosea, we read that the love between a man and a woman is symbolic of the love God has for us. Romantic love gives us a glimpse of the strength and passion with which God loves us. Psalm 45:11 says, "The king is enthralled by your beauty; honour him, for he is your Lord." I am beautiful. There are many other passages I could use, but I will end with the story of Leah. In Genesis 29, we find Jacob travelling in search of a wife. He meets and falls in love with Rachel, who is described as having "a beautiful figure and a lovely face." (verse 17) Rachel has an older sister named Leah, who is not considered beautiful. Their father tricks Jacob into marrying Leah as well, and she lives with the knowledge that Jacob loves Rachel more than he loves her. God does a beautiful thing for Leah, though - He makes her part of the lineage of Jesus. It is Leah, not Rachel, who gives birth to Judah, ancestor of Jesus. This speaks to me so profoundly of the way God views us. He does not see us through our culture's distorted lens; He is not limited to a narrow definition of worth and beauty. He sees us as He has created us to be: beautiful and loved. I am beautiful, and I am loved. This truth, that I am loved by God, is the core of my identity. And when I experience the love of God, I am filled with peace and joy, and I know, deep down, that I am beautiful. It is this experience that I want my daughter to have. It is this life-giving truth that I want to speak over her, and live out in front of her. This is why I will not be afraid to tell her she is beautiful.

I believe words are important. In fact, they're so important, let's not let society ruin them for us. Let's take back beauty. Let's dare to own our desire for beauty. Let's even dare to acknowledge our own beauty - not in a shallow way that merely mimics the culture around us, but in a deeply profound way that honours our Creator and brings glory to His great and beautiful name.

The Time-in: a Confession (and a Plan)

I have a confession to make. Despite being nearly 2 years in to Empowered to Connect's trust-based parenting approach, we have not yet established the time-in as a working strategy in our home. Shocking, I know! I've always loved the idea, and we tried a number of times to get it to work, but the kids didn't buy in to the idea of voluntarily removing themselves from a situation (more shocking news!) and we likely gave up our attempts far too soon. Anyway, the time has come. I'm done with placing myself as the barrier between whoever's melting down and the rest of the house. To borrow the 'clean' version of this year's Stampede slogan - we're doing this time-in thing, come heck or high water!

The time-in is a beautiful way to connect while correcting. (Watch Dr. Karyn Purvis explain it here.) It's different from a time-out in that it does not separate the child from the parent. The child stays physically close to the parent until they are able to self-regulate and calm themselves, then any issues are resolved and life carries on. It's designed not as punishment, but as a way to give our children the time and space they need to self-regulate (while staying connected to us) so they can then help bring resolution to whatever situation got them to time-in in the first place. One of the reasons I love the time-in idea is that it is a physical expression of the way God parents us. In His word, He promises never to leave or forsake us. (see Deuteronomy 31:6) He promises that no matter where we go, we can never run away from His love. (see Psalm 139:7-16 and Romans 8:38,39) I think that's a beautiful thing to show our children: no matter how they're behaving, we won't reject them. We'll stay close and help them dig out of whatever pit they've got themselves in.

With all of that behind the idea of the time-in, why haven't we done it yet?! There are a few reasons, but mostly it's due to a lack of consistent effort on our part. When we first took Empowered to Connect training, we heard of families who have a designated time-in (or 'think it over') seat that the parent and child will go to when the child needs to be removed from the situation. For at least one of our kids, this was too similar to a time-out, and therefore unbearable. We've also heard of another family who has a time-in basket with a variety of activities for the child to do when they need a time-in. This seemed like it would be a better fit for our family, so we tried it, but we never got past the "kids wanting to play with the basket of puzzles and fidgets all the time" stage. In other words, I got frustrated and impatient and gave up too soon!

So, we've come up with our own version of the time-in. We've been using "How Does Your Engine Run?" with the kids for some time now, and they like the idea of their engines overheating when they're angry. This is not surprising, given their love of all things related to trains and Thomas the Tank Engine! They are steadily improving in their ability to communicate what their body needs to get their engine back to green. We've decided to call the time-in a 'Cool Down' and they get a choice of activity as they cool down. I chose the activities based on things I know will appeal to each child, and they're activities that they can do any time. When they choose it as a cool down activity and take a stick out of the cup, the other kids have to go somewhere else to play.

 

We're only two days in to this new routine, but so far so good! We haven't had any major melt downs yet, but they have been practicing going to a 'cool down spot' whenever they need a break from their siblings. I'm optimistic, and I'm hoping that by blogging about it, I'll have the needed accountability to stick with it this time! And, as always, I'm depending on the Holy Spirit for the patience and perseverance to see it through. Without Him, my most innovative and creative ideas can fail spectacularly!

 

For some guidelines and tips to set up the time-in with your family, check out "Keys to an Effective Time-In With Your Child".

 

Do you use something similar in your home? How does it work for you? What have you done to customise it for your family?