At church last week, Pastor Mario decided to mix things up a bit. Instead of a traditional sermon, he had a panel of four couples—eight God-fearing, experienced parents—on stage answering questions as part of a series he’s doing on family. At one point, one of the fathers said, “6,570,” and started to choke up a bit. “Mark it down,” he said. “It’s the number of days you have with your kids before they turn eighteen and leave.”
Later that night, while our three year old threw a tantrum in his bedroom and our girls splashed half the water out of the tub, Adam said to me, “Was it like this for them too?” I knew exactly what he meant. Those couples—who calmly sat on stage wisely answering our questions—did they ever have moments of total chaos in their homes? Maybe even whole seasons of chaos, where the calm moments felt like the exception?
Adam and I decided those veteran parents probably did have their share of overwhelming moments. Maybe the difficult memories just fade faster than what ends up in a photo album? I’m not sure. All I know is I hope they had a bit of chaos here and there. I hope we’re not the only ones.
It’s interesting to think about what we’ll remember as the years pass. It got me thinking about our kids and what I want them to remember most about growing up.
Of course I want them to remember the big, fun stuff—the beach days, the road trips, the holiday traditions, the special treats. But what do I want them to remember about Adam and me as their parents? What do I want them to say they’ve always known about us?
Lots of things!
But if I had to pick just one, it’s this: I want them to know we’re on their side.
I hope they remember us helping them and cheering for them. I hope they have many memories of us listening to them without judgment and negotiating with them about food and bedtimes and curfews. I hope they remember us saying, “I hate spanking you,” because it’s the truth. We only do it because we believe it’s God’s instruction to us and we want them to grow into mature, respectful adults who are capable of humbly submitting to authority.
Pastor Andy Stanley once preached an amazing sermon about parenting where he said that no matter how badly his kids messed up, he tried to react with a sympathetic, “Oh no!” He tried not to take their sins personally. He didn’t rant and rave and make it all about him. He also didn’t shield them from the consequences of their sin. He’d say sincerely, “Oh no, you didn’t finish your paper! I’m sorry you’re going to fail such a big assignment.” And he would let them work it out on their own.
It’s way too easy for me to feel personally offended when my kids disobey, to mostly think about how they’re making my life harder. My immediate reaction is to raise my voice and vent out my frustration. But really, it’s not me vs. my kids, right against wrong. It’s all of us together, all selfish sinners, all desperately in need of a Savior.
I know that when our kids are grown, they won’t look back and remember a perfect family. But I do hope they remember how we worked together, all on the same side, and that we did our best to help each other follow Jesus.
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