Parenting Myself

I think God gives us children so that we are forced to vocalize in their direction all the things we actually need to be telling ourselves.

But if I’m being honest about this, I’d cue Aladdin’s genie: It’s not a pretty picture! I don’t like it!

Just today I had to tell one kid that it’s not always easy to find the line between pushing ourselves and offering grace. I had to point directly at myself the whole time we were having the conversation.

It’s not my favorite sermon to give myself via child.

Last week, it was talking about how we find truth when our feelings are giving us conflicting information. It hit a little close to home.

The week before that, I’m sure I talked about how tone matters just as much as the words we use or how having an excuse doesn’t make losing our tempers right or how we need to prioritize what truly matters. All things I repeatedly (unfortunately) need to hear.

It’s like a constant preaching to the choir, and I’m sure God is getting a kick out of it.

He knows that the most effective way to learn something is to teach it to someone else.

In addition to its effectivity, I’ve also found that parenting myself via conversing with my kids has become a way of treating myself more kindly as an adult. When I want to be impatient or harsh with myself, instead, I’ve found myself asking: if I were my child, what would I say to myself in this moment?

When I don’t want to write, would I say, “It’s okay to take a day off” or “You can do this; a few words on the page are better than none.”

I wouldn’t ever tell my child, “I can’t believe how lazy you are. If you practiced better time management, you would be far more successful.” So I probably shouldn’t say that to myself.

When my body is tired and aching, would I encourage my child self to rest or would I cheer her on as she pushes past her limitations?

I wouldn’t guilt my child into exercising or raise my eyebrows judgmentally at thick thighs or love handles…so I probably shouldn’t do that to myself.

When I’m wanting to turn my brain off and check out because the world feels like too much, would I give a hug and a word of grace or would I set my kid on their own two feet and tell them to keep going just a little longer?

I wouldn’t tell my kid to just get over it…so I probably shouldn’t do that to myself.

One of the constants the Man and I keep coming back to after over fourteen years of parenting, is that there is no one right answer for every kid. There is nuance. There is grace. There is a constant need for wisdom. And there are rarely moments where there is only one right answer available for us to give.

But there are some definitely wrong answers…and if I wouldn’t use them on my kids, I shouldn’t be using them on God’s kid.

And first and foremost, I am still God’s kid.

So, honestly, when I come back to “What would I as an imperfect parent say to my kid if she was in this situation”, what I really want to ask is, “What is God, the perfect Father, saying to me?”

And admittedly, often the answer is not as clear as I want. (Sometimes also the answer is just not what I want. Period.)

I want a flashing billboard. I want a neatly typed email, preferably with bullet points. I want a still small voice that I don’t misinterpret for wishful thinking. I would settle for a scrawled post-it note.

But when none of those things happen, there is still my Bible, and there is still prayer, and there is still the hope that the Holy Spirit will enable me to walk in God’s ways, and there is still the question, “If this was my kid, what would I tell her?”

And sometimes that’s enough.