children of unstability

Worst – Saturday evening, L and I were worn out. We had spent the day on the roof of our porch, stroking on golden fleece and arresting auburn as trim and accent colors, and rolling portabella brown over the stucco. The top level of the front of Sojourn shines as a beacon, see what beauty looks like? This is what I was created to be. The rest is in process. And the renovators were tired. We lit a fire in the brazier, gathered the chairs around, fetched the lasagna from the oven, the salad from the counter, and ate under the full branches of the Japanese maple that divides our courtyard from the pool.

The boys had spent the day at their favorite gaming store, playing Warhammer. The 14 year old had been soundly and thoroughly trounced in this role-playing game that I fear many Christians find fairly demonic, and we were all paying for his sense of powerlessness. As exhausted as I was, the Spirit seemed to be afoot, so I stayed in the courtyard, around the fire as, one by one, the family disappeared to bed. Finally, it was the 14 year old and me. And he voiced his struggle with life and friends, and grief for his dad, and not fitting in, and wanting to hang with his family. I asked him “Tell me how all of our moves have affected this struggle with friends? “Then, I listened as he shared his woundings in this area, it was hard, nay impossible to sit there, knowing how I struggled to facilitate stability in our lives, how I focused on our family being a mosaic of beauty instead of broken, and hear how hard it is now to make friends for him, and how hard it has been, because of our moves and because of his story. And yet, there was no push from him, or pull to make it right, I had asked the question, and he honored me by his answers. So, I listened, and agreed with him of the cost of our moves on friends in his life, and shared in his angst of how hard it is to make new ones. And I listened to him speak of the previous lack of stability in his life. And we both cried a bit, and we hugged good night when everything had been said that could be said at that time. And I did not defend myself, or speak of my own pain, because he is the child and I am the parent and his perception of life is real and important and deserves to be heard with dignity.

My parenting is very intuitive, and I often have no reason for what I do as a parent, except my gut feel of what each individual spirit in my care needs. As I laid down that night, I wept for this boy on the cusp of manhood and if truth be told, I wept a bit for myself. And I held him in the Light of the One who is stable, and as I shared with L what had transpired under our tree, in our courtyard, around our fire, I heard the whisper of the Spirit “How he lives his life is his choice, what he does with his struggle of intimacy is his choice. And he cannot leave what he does not know.” I fell asleep, knowing there was more to hear on “he cannot leave what he does not know” and I was restful in leaving the 14 year old to make his own choices in the midst of his struggles. Knowing that we would continue to parent, and knowing that our parenting will often look strange to those who parent by the book that I have never found.

Worst is the reality of divorce and my choice in marriage on my children’s lives. And worst is knowing that these are children who had a present mother, although a struggling mother, an incredible support system of friends and grandparents and an aunt, all of whom seriously and wonderfully impacted their lives, and they still struggle. What about those children of divorce, those children of substance abusers, who have little of the above?

Comments

[Idelette]

Is it because we feel so deeply that we struggle?

A friend who has four beautiful children shared what God had told him about parenting. He was struggling with raising his children, creating the perfect environment for them to grow up in. God told him something like this: "Think of Eden. I created the most perfect environment for my children to be in. Beautiful. Safe. Stable. Everything stable. And yet they still chose to leave me. Your children will make their own choices. You can try your best, but even when you have created a perfect environment for them,it still doesn't mean they'll make perfect decisions."

I find a lot of freedom in that.

[Ben]

My son likes Warhammer too. He goes and plays most Monday nights. We had to work our way through some of the other games like Magic that I didn't like. Warhammer is a lot about strategy and math and one particular brand of warrior (I can't remember which) prays for an hour before bed, sleeps three hours, then prays for an hour upon rising. Wow!
I so appreciate your heart for your son and your willingness to listen to his heart and to be his mom.

Ben

[candy]

"he cannot leave what he does not know". That statement intrigues me too. It pricked my heart, Anj, so as you learn more please share. Choices, we all have them, even these boys. My prayer for my son has been Psalm 119:133. "Direct his footsteps according to Your word, let no sin rule over him." I use this alot when I don't know what else to pray. I often wonder what my own mother prayed for me. I only know I must have made her pray very hard. I made some completely awful choices. But today, I am free! I am a child of the Most High - a daughter of the King! There is always hope. So I guess I do know what "he cannot leave what he does not know" means. I've known alot and I've left it all, to find freedom and hope and truth. One thing I know about God - He continually woos us to Him. The choice is ours, but He never gives up. Thank God.

[Boo]

"[...] and his perception of life is real and important and deserves to be heard with dignity.[...]"

This is ... best! :)

[Deb]

Oh to have had a mother like you. Your intuitive parenting...what a blessing for your children!