“If you walk down the hallway mad because your children need correction again, you’re mad because at that moment they need what every human being constantly needs: a parent’s care. But if you walk down the hallway confessing your need of the Father’s care, it is more likely that you will embrace the need of your children for the same care, and you’ll be tender as you give it.” – Paul David Tripp
We are a biblical family, and by that I mean we read the Bible, believe the Bible, and seek guidance within its pages. Apparently we are so biblical that we find ourselves reenacting the Fall of Creation on a daily basis. In this mini-drama, my husband and I get to take turns playing God, which on its face sounds kind of fun, i.e. being in charge, dolling out punishment, etc. etc. For those who believe the biblical account is a myth, I would pose the following: “HAVE YOU NOT RAISED CHILDREN?” No story rings truer at this stage of my life than the fall of our ancestral parents, and it is one of the many reasons I believe the Bible is true. God creates a pristine paradise for Adam and Eve, giving them full access to partake of everything except one (ONE!) measly tree. What becomes the sole object of their desire? The forbidden tree. Now are you seeing the connections?
Our house is almost like Eden, except for the sink full of dirty dishes, food scattered on floor under the high chair, and many other signs of chaos, but in general, it is a space created for and catered to our 18 month old daughter’s needs. She has toys in abundance and general free rein of the house, with a few exceptions. I say, “Baby girl, you can play with everything except ________” (fill in the blank), and that one forbidden thing, usually the contents of my desk drawer or toilet paper, becomes her single obsession. Even if the attempt to grab the forbidden fruit earns her punishment, she is relentless. If, unbeknownst to me, she achieves her goal, the house grows deathly silent, and I know paradise has just been lost.
Often, like Adam and Eve, my daughter will hide (and run around naked). I am starting to have a tiny inkling of the incredible forbearance our Heavenly Father has for us, his children. Nothing like having a child reveals our own brokenness. The urge to trespass the limits and cheat on God never really leaves us, but as adults we learn to hide it better. I have no doubt about newborns having hearts already hell-bent on defying authority. This skill does not have to be taught. This parenting bit is exhausting and we have only just begun.
My sister tried to encourage me by saying that a child has to hear something 1,000 times for it to sink it. Maybe she meant to say 10,000 times. Take the toilet paper obsession for example. Every time I go to the bathroom, I bring my daughter with me because it seems less dangerous than leaving her to run amok. The entire time she is in the bathroom with me, I am working to protect the toilet paper and simultaneously keep her from getting around me to the toilet brush or anything else she might find. I calculate I have told her not to shred the toilet paper about 5,400 times, and I’m not sure we are making progress.
Allow me to digress slightly. Of all the changes I underestimated about child-rearing, the grief of no longer going to the bathroom in peace may be the greatest. If you are able to relax enough to properly go to the bathroom, take a moment of that silence to remember those of us who cannot. When my husband walks through the door after getting off work, I yell as I gleefully run to the bathroom, “Your turn to watch the Peanut!” I lock the door, because I can (hee hee), and I settle in to my first quiet bathroom moment of the day. Then I wonder how long I can stay in there until I will be missed.
As frustrating as this relentless task of disciplining is, I remember that I am just like our toddler. God knew his people couldn’t remember or obey after countless repetitions of the law, so he ends up instructing them to write down his commands and place them in little boxes they strapped to their heads and arms. Guess what? It didn’t result in lasting obedience. It only reminded them that they were sinners in need of a Savior. That is the point of the law, which has no power to transform us. So I have hope, as my husband and I attempt to teach our daughter, that even if she shreds countless rolls of toilet paper, at some point, despite our poor attempts at discipline and only because of God’s grace, she will see her own great need for Jesus. I know that this arduous task of parenting is helping us see our own sin and desperate need for Him more and more. Can I get an amen?
Amen mashed potatoes !!!
Amen.
Once my kids were old enough not to self-destruct when I left their presence, I learned that the closed bathroom door could be a moment of privacy. They figured that out. So then I was known to turn on the bathtub water. And a clever one would tell me, “I don’t think you are REALLY in the shower…
I am not yet past marveling how wonderful a quiet bathroom is…
press on, sister.