Our fun with the Puritans in our last post generated some interesting feedback. We stirred the pot beyond this blog when Katrina, my son and I changed our photos on facebook to those with Puritan-like qualities. We had a good time with it. The best bit of feedback arrived in a small box. Inside were seven little Pilgrim hats made from marshmallow, chocolate and a fudge-striped cookie. For those little goodies I was, like our Pilgrim (Puritan) forefathers, thankful.
Before we return the Puritans to the history books, I want to ruminate just a little more on what my son’s moniker has stirred for me.
(Note: If you have no idea what I’m talking about, reading this might help).
Over the past few years, it has been interesting to receive feedback from those little angels Katrina and I parent. For sure, our children have never failed to let us know what they’re thinking. Thrown food, rolled-eyes, vitamins thrown in the trash, fake showers, opening ink pens on the carpet and slammed doors have been some favorite means of expression. But with teens and pre-teens now in our home, their feedback is becoming more sophisticated. Almost coherent.
In his story, The Picture of Dorian Gray, Oscar Wilde said, “Children begin by loving their parents; as they grow older, they judge them; sometimes they forgive them.” That quote encapsulates why parenting is a venture requiring utmost courage. Being a parent is humbling. Sometimes humiliating. Wonderful and terrible. Joyous and heartbreaking. The tension of familial love strung between a parent and child can feel one minute like a noose, the next a delightful embrace.
As I process feedback on my parenting – from friends, family and my own dear children – I pray for ears to listen. I beg God for humility to receive things true. I pray for protection from lies and false accusations. I seek discernment to know when it’s good to be puritanical, and when the big black hat and funny shoes need to stay in the closet. To know when to be a friend, and when to be a parent. To say “yes” when the only reason for “no” is because it’s easier. To let go of a few bucks because money spent on my kids yields long-term dividends. To squelch caustic words before they leave my mouth. To be a dad who blows wind into young sails.
Of course I want my kids to love me. But that can’t be my goal. They will judge and evaluate the kind of dad I am. Some days the Puritan, other days…? I’m cool with that. My hope is they forgive my mistakes…and that I would be quick to do the same.