Let Them: A Saturday Series

This first Saturday series is called "Let Them". There are so many things we just big, fat don't let our kids do. I'm meeting some of those things head-on and seeing what happens.

Let Them Fight

Have you ever witnessed a mama intervene in an argument between her children? Most likely we all have seen it, been there and done that. Have you ever seen a mama intervene in an argument between her grown son and daughter-in-law. Awkward, to say the least. 

We're a fighting family, but not a yelling family. Some people feel that "fighting" is too harsh of a word, so we cloak it in more agreeable terms such as "having a discussion" or "a disagreement". It's all fighting, and that's OK. You use whatever word you want, m'kay?

To instruct children not to fight is to teach rules over relationships. All we're accomplishing is controlled behavior in a controlled environment. Eventually our children will fight, despite our best efforts to the contrary. Let's provide a safe place for our children to learn how to lovingly duke it out, shall we? After all, we don't want to be the referee in their adult "discussions". 

Rules to Fighting:

1. Same with getting angry, you do not need an audience. Take it outside, in the garage or in your room.
2. Kind words, kind voice. This means you cannot smile sweetly to the other party and say, "I hate your face." nor can you holler at the back of their head, "I'M SORRY!!*"
3. Avoid always/never statements. They're lame and untrue. Always.
4. End with prayer. We confess and seek forgiveness from the offended party and from God and ask for His help to love one another.**

Optional Conclusion: Have them sit with their noses touching until they can't help but crack up. ***

Note: If they're going to come to blows, it might be a good idea to step in. Blood is so tricky to clean out of carpet.

On That Note,
Cynthia

P.S. Here are a couple of photo outtakes for your enjoyment:

*Each syllable should be punctuated by angry jabs into the air. Extra points for actual steam coming out of ears.
**Eavesdroppers are encouraged to pray for their siblings in another room. We don't need any more rings in the circus.
***This is not advised during cold season...or if you have a headbutter. 

Let Them: A Saturday Series

Welcome to my first Saturday blog series! I was going to call it "Cynthia's Super Saturday Series Extravaganza!!!" but "extravaganza" doesn't begin with an "S" sound...

My Saturday Series will have a narrow focus and intended audience.* This first series is called "Let Them". There are so many things we just big, fat don't let our kids do. I'm going to meet some of those things head-on and see what happens.

Let Them Get Angry.

"But I Don't. Want. To. Wash. My. Haaaaaaaaaannnnnndssssss!!!" Each word is punctuated with stomps down the hall, followed by the sounds of angry hand-washing. Tell me you know what angry hand-washing sounds like? Water on full blast, slamming the soap down, grabbing the towel and leaving it on a heap on the floor...**

Or

Feeling hurt by a friend on the playground and (two hours later) using unnecessary force when unloading the dishwasher. 

Or 

The oh so wonderful eye-roll and huffing to the bedroom.

And I'm not just talking about me. Ba-doom, ching!

OK, but let's be candid; most of us have lost our tempers. I've slammed cabinets in frustration. I've raised my voice when I should have taken a deep breath. I've given icy glares to those I profess to love the most. I've offered lengthy lectures over piddly things. It never resolves anything, but if I'm willing to be honest, sometimes it feels satisfying to get really angry over something. The trick is not sinning in my anger. 

Why would it be any different for my kids? 

We have a general rule: It's fine to be angry. It's not fine to sin in our anger, and you do not need an audience. Therefore, you can be angry in your room (or the garage or backyard*** if the room is occupied at the moment). We'll reconvene once spirits are calm. 

It's a timeout without a timer. Take as long as you need to gather your senses and give your initial anger over to God. Usually within five minutes the (formerly...or mostly formerly) angry party has returned to the living room and is ready to address not only their anger, but any accompanying sinful attitudes and actions (this is where I apologize for the towel-throwing and eye-rolling). We pray together and I encourage them to ask God for help. If it's me who was in self-sanctioned timeout, I treat the situation the same: I apologize for any wrong behavior(s) and pray with my kids. No one is berated for feeling angry. Ever.

God has created us with a beautiful array of emotions. We don't need to be afraid of anger. There is a function to anger (after all, righteous anger can spur us into action). If we're too busy combating the symptoms (e.g. temper tantrums), we miss the heart issue and the opportunity to help our kids navigate their emotions in a Godly fashion.

I'd be angry if my hair was that static-y too.

Comparing Prices of Punching Bags,
Cynthia

P.S. All photos were staged. No children were angered in the making of this blog post (despite Mikayla's convincingly angry expression).



*A nice way of saying "Some of you could care less, because you're in a different stage/place in life".
**Before parenting, I had no idea hand-washing could sound angry. Oh the things we learn.
***Now is not the time to suggest they do "backyard duty". Nothing good can come from angry kids handling dog poop. 

Confessions Of A Crybaby

1. I carry myself like a grocery produce connoisseur when choosing which fruits and veggies go in my basket. I sniff, squeeze and thump my way through the aisles.

I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing. If it's hairy or oozes, I put it back.

2. Facebook peeps already know I was sneaking s'mores last week, in lieu of eating the dinner leftovers I was (coincidentally) forcing the children eat.

No regrets. Why is an explanation necessary? S'mores. For dinner.

Earlier, I shared with you my word for 2013. God cheated and gave me a second word.*

Confession

I like my other word. 

Preparation is exciting and adventurous and elicits responses such as "Oh! WOW! God is going to do something HUGE in your life!" Confession, not so much. Confession is scary and intimidating and garners responses akin to "Oh. Bummer. That sucks. Sorry God's being such a Debbie Downer about your word of the year." Friends want to get involved in preparation. Confession can lead to criticism and alienation exercised by those selfsame friends. 

Raise your hand if you think confession is fun.
*crickets chirping*
Anyone...Anyone...?

Raise your hand if you remember the last time you confessed something to God.
That's not so hard, because I know I'll be forgiven. Plus I can't see the disappointment in my Father's eyes. 

How about to another person?
Starting to squirm.

At a church meeting?
So...uh...heard about Pluto?

It's one thing to confess that which will make readers laugh. It's painless to confess the silly things of which most of us can relate (don't even try to convince me that you know a ripe star fruit when you see one). It's quite another thing to confess wrongdoing and seek forgiveness or to confess a personal struggle. I no longer hold all the cards when I confess. Confession is an act of choosing to involve others in my intimate relationship with Christ. It requires humility (which I lack), vulnerability (which I avoid) and community (which I deflect).**

Pride, resistance and detachment are roadblocks to confession.

We must set aside our pride. It will likely get us in hot water and it oftentimes "goes before the fall". Pride is more than simply saving face; it's pompously claiming, "You are not worthy of me." 
Likewise, resistance builds a parapet around my soul, locking out believers and capturing sin in, with no emergency escape hatch. Confession to God is paramount, but the need to confess to the body of believers is also crucial for a healthy relationship with Christ (and one another). 

Therefore, confess your sins to one another and pray for one another, so that you may be healed. The intense prayer of the righteous is very powerful.
James 5:16

No doubt about it, it is hard work to confess. It's like learning to tie shoelaces. At first my efforts are feeble and awkward. It doesn't pan out how I expected. Things come unraveled and I'm left frustrated with tears blurring my vision of the goal. Seeing as how I no longer struggle to tie my shoes, it's safe to say it gets better.*** I can't point to a day on the calender when tying my shoes was no longer a chore. It happened slowly, over time. Knots became surer with each honest effort. The ends evened and no longer slipped through. It became a fluid motion. This was partially due to my own perseverance and partially due to outside influences (I know this is a lot to require of a shoe-tying analogy, and I've already stretched it pretty thin, but hang in there with me). Surrounding me were some expert shoelace tie-ers. They had the choice to berate and guilt me or gently lead by example and encourage me.****

Our family is blessed to be part of a church fellowship that beautifully models confession. We've witnessed several confessions and each have been met in the same way: The confessor has been enveloped in love, prayer and instruction. This is as it should be. 

I'll admit, confession still causes my stomach to do little flips (mostly because I'm a big crybaby), but I know three things:

1. My home and my church family are both gracious in their responses to confession, of which I must exhibit the same level of graciousness toward them (and others).

2. Little eyes are watching and little lives are being shaped by what they see. I want my children to witness and practice confession.

3. Despite being a crybaby, confession is still scriptural and we are admonished to engage in this practice regularly. 

As regularly as tying our shoes...

Blessings,

Cynthia

P.S. A shout out to Ben Stein and Dulé Hill. Classic lines. Commit them to memory.



*I politely showed Him the rule book, but He insisted on an additional word. He doesn't color inside the lines either.
**See what I did there? "-ity" endings. There will be a test.
***This statement probably doesn't hold much water since I just got done telling ya'll I wear flip-flops. 
****Side note: Acute, able-bodied adults with velcro shoes concern me.