After my post the other day regarding lying, I had a conversation with several young moms about how to encourage an atmosphere of grace in their homes when they are more prone to be rule followers.
That’s a great question. I think it starts with spilled milk.
Surely every parent, sometime in their parent life, has experienced a child spilling milk or some sticky drink either at the dinner table or in the car or on the carpet. Your reaction to these accidents helps set the tone for bigger mistakes in your child’s future.
Mistakes are opportunities to grow and learn.
Here’s what I suggest could be said in different circumstances.
Your child spills his/her drink.
Oops! Well, I’ve spilled my share of drinks, too. Let’s clean it up together and see what we can do to be more careful in the future.
Your child breaks a favorite item of yours on accident.
I’m sad this got broken, but I know you didn’t mean to break it. It’s just a thing. You’re more important to me than that [insert broken item].
You forget to do something you promised your child you’d do.
I’m sorry I forgot to do [insert whatever it is]. I was wrong to not follow through on what I said. Will you forgive me?
These are all common circumstances that every family can relate to. Building an environment where your child is not afraid to tell you they did something is critical to helping them understand that grace reigns in your household. That doesn’t mean that there aren’t consequences for their bad choices, but choosing to do something wrong and having something happen by accident are different.
Open dialog happens from a very early age. Listen to your children with your full attention. Ask them questions. Help them come to their own conclusions about issues. Let them express themselves in an appropriate, respectful manner.
With my kids, I found that there was a little bit of a Catch-22: We had such a close relationship that they didn’t want to disappoint me, even if I had never made performance a priority. The notion that lying to me is more disappointing than the original act doesn’t seem to get through their heads!
The most important thing I think I do is to keep telling them, “I love you.” And it’s never the person I’m disappointed in, it’s the choice. That is emphasized time and again.
Amongst many other forgotten things, I’ve had countless items borrowed and lost, and a favorite bowl knocked off the counter and smashed, all accidents. All covered by grace because the loss
was unintentional.
But I’ve also had my trust absolutely demolished like that favorite bowl by a child lying right to my face. Things hidden from me because that child knew those actions would grieve me.
But grace wins every time. God will deal with the sin. I’ve given consequences for the actions to my minor kids. But for my adult children, I’ve cried, prayed, told them truth over and over, but ultimately, their decisions are part of the journey God has them on.
And sometimes that journey goes through the stream of spilled milk. Will it be a sour experience or a sweet one, ending in a pool of grace?
I have been battling with discontentment this summer. Last summer I got to spend several weeks driving to and from Colorado and hanging out in the mountains. This summer, with sweltering temperatures and cloying humidity, I sit at home, not wanting to venture out past 9 in the morning.
Would it have felt better if I didn’t have Facebook shoving it in my face that so many other friends get to be elsewhere?
God has for me. In Philippians chapter 4, the Apostle Paul says, “
I can do this. I can live in Orlando for another summer. Or 2. Or 30. If this is where the Lord has me, then He will strengthen me to live in it.
9 years ago this month, she was wearing her favorite big, fluffy bathrobe. Undergoing treatment for pancreatic cancer, she sensed her struggle was coming to an end and she didn’t have the wherewithal to get dressed most days. While I was with her, a hospice nurse came in and talked to us about the future. We arranged for Meals on Wheels to bring food several times a week. I talked to the postal deliverer about bringing her mail down to the front door because her mailbox was at the top of a steep driveway.
Miss you, Mom. You would be proud of your grandkids. The one who had a baby almost a year ago and would have made you a great grandma. The one who graduated from college this year and already has a job. The ones who got married and are making new lives for their families. The one who opened his own business and has been written up in several publications because of it. The one who started college and wants to be a law enforcement officer. The one you never met, who learned to tie his own shoes and loves Star Wars. The one who loves horses just like I do and takes riding lessons and has been in horse shows. The one who will be a high school senior and is trying to figure out where he wants to go and what he wants to do.
I remember with vivid clarity the day we learned I had miscarried our first child. We were traveling home from Colorado to Florida when I started spotting. After 4 years of infertility, the thought of losing this long-awaited baby was terrifying. When the loss was confirmed, it seemed my tears would never stop.
had my 3rd, so another pregnancy really wasn’t in the cards for us. But still, the idea that it would never happen again stirred up feelings I didn’t even know were there. Somehow we think childbearing defines us as women and when we find ourselves unable to do that, our self-image takes a hit.
Bearing babies isn’t what makes me a woman. It isn’t what gives me worth. It isn’t even what defines me. I am a mom and it’s a wonderful thing. But I am first of all a child of God. Nothing will change that. Instead of being defined by the blood I used to shed each month, I am defined by the blood shed for me on the Cross. It will never run dry.
