Parenting

Three things have compelled me to reflect today. The first is a friend's blog reflection on attachment in parenting, which created a small firestorm in the comments section (why is it that we lose all manners when communicating electronically? It's like we don't realize there's a real human being on the other end. Or perhaps folks have just gotten more mean-spirited over the years.) I'd put down the link so you can read my friend's wise reflections on parenting styles, but I don't know if it's good blog etiquette to share blog addresses without permission of the author. The gist of her reflection, if I might be so bold as to summarize, is that while parenting styles are important, some parents out there adopt a style so militantly that every decision they make is checked and balanced against a rule book, so to speak, of expert opinions. Paige suggests that we make decisions in consultation with our best wisdom and that our parenting style flow from that. So we might be in the "attachment parenting" camp 75% of the time, but not let it hamstring every decision we make. Or we might really believe in co-sleeping but find it just doesn't work with our little one's personality. The ability to adapt is essential in parenting...

The second is that some beloved people in my life (who shall remain unnamed) communicated with me recently about my last entry out of grave concern that my son might drown in the dog dish or toilet in which he has been splish-splashing about. Who knew? Yes, I have heard the old adage that a child can drown in an inch of water, which does make sense to me, but I always assumed that happened in the tub when a parent turned their back. We have new toilets in our home, and they are so tall and sleek I can hardly imagine Myles being able to get into the toilet. And yet watching some of the physical feats he surprises us with daily is a good reminder that what seems impossible may in fact be very possible. So I am left with the yucky feeling that I have posted what I thought was a silly story only to find out I have disclosed an instance of parenting neglect. Now I don't want to for one second sound as if I don't take my child's safety incredibly seriously, and my role as a parent in keeping him safe with the utmost responsibility. But the awful truth of parenting is that none of us are perfect. None of us are "on" 100% of the time, and we all find our children at one time or another in a compromised safety situation. Most of the time we heave a sigh of relief and thank God that the worst that could have happened did not, in fact, happen. Other times, our children get hurt. And we have to come to terms that somewhere along the line we signed up for the beloved job of being a protector of our children, a defender of their safety and welfare. It's a huge job and one that simply cannot be done perfectly. We learn, we adapt, we cry, we laugh, we thank God, and we move on to the next adventure with a newfound sense of humility (which, on our better days can be refreshing and on our worst days can be crushing).

The third thing that has prompted this wordy reflection on parenting is an incident that occurred last Sunday at the Middle School youth group event. Seth is one of the leaders, and when I arrived to retrieve him, I learned that there had been a bullying incident that got physical. As a matter of confidentiality, I won't say much more than that. Except this: in talking to and listening to the parents of each child (the one that perpetrated the bullying and the one who was the target of it), I got a good dose of the fierce mama love that makes us want to defend our children from every harm and hubris. The thought of Myles growing into an awkward teen and being bullied by others is absolutely terrifying. And yet the truth is that the world doesn't revolve around our kids. Our kids are a part of a world that is, in many ways, broken. Now that's my theology coming out, maybe you have another view. But to my thinking, our kids are going to have their hearts walked on, they will be bowled over by the injustices in a world that might seem safe to them for a time, they will inevitably let the brokenness that lurks in each of us out for a romp and come to deeply regret the damage we can do to those we love. Myles is not yet a year old, and so I don't think about this too much. Except when mediating a bullying situation at church with mothers who love their kids just like I love mine. Wise beautiful mothers who are completely stumped by the cruelty and hubris of the early teen years.

I guess we all have to come to terms with the fact that we can't protect our children from harm completely, not the way we want to. We make too many mistakes. We are preoccupied or looking the other way precisely in a moment when our kids need us most. I am not saying I'm not responsible for Myles dabbling in the toilet. I am. But I think there's an element of grace we have to afford ourselves as parents or else we are paralyzed by fear at every turn.

The amazing thing about parenting is that it's a total gift. It's a spiritual practice in the best of times and the worst of times. When I keep my eyes open, I learn a whole lot more about myself than I ever wanted to know. I am learning to offer myself some grace when I mess up, and then again I am learning that my child is grace in the flesh, this incredible sign that we so often get more than we could ever deserve. I remember after Myles was born thinking that it was a lot like falling in love. Before I fell in love, I never knew that that kind of thing was out there. You hear about it, but until it hits you, you can't even fathom its incredible highs and lows. The love of a child is a love that I never knew was out there, this completely "other" kind of love. It rocks and topples you (as Annie Dillard would say).

I'll leave you with these words from poet Kahlil Gibran: "Your children are not your children. They are the sons and the daughters of Life's longing for itself. They come through you, but not from you, and though they are with you, they belong not to you."

And if I were bold enough to think I'd receive multiple comments on this post, I'd say...please, no e-fighting folks, this is a sweet spirited space.