Testing produces perseverance

James 1:2-4 (NIV)

Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.

What doesn’t kill me makes me stronger, right? I can’t count the number of times I’ve had this thought during some difficult moment of parenting. Cleaning up after sickness in the middle of the night, riding out the storm of a toddler tantrum, re-teaching the same house rule day after day after day and wondering if it’ll ever sink in… sometimes the second or third child will put me through the exact same experience as the first did, only with their own personal twist so I’m tested anew.

And this testing does indeed produce perseverance. Parents of multiple children — or people who grew up with several siblings — are easily able to identify how family dynamics change as everyone grows up. Of course perspective is crucial. If you’re the oldest of several, you probably feel your parents were either too strict on you or too lax with the youngest or some combination of the two. The youngest child feels they were babied too long, or perhaps they were ignored by their parents (and not photographed as much) because everyone was so busy with the older kids’ activities.

We’ve been at this long enough to see some evidence in our own style. When Jack was a baby we bought nursery water to mix his formula and sterilized nearly everything he put in his mouth. Max used bottles, too, but hot soapy water seemed plenty sufficient to keep him healthy. We didn’t have to make tough choices on things with sleep training with Jack — he just got it. Charlie was a much tougher nut to crack. We let Jack use a pacifier until he was past age four, but were much more strict with Max.

Those are just a few examples, and there are dozens more. But hopefully a prevailing theme throughout is the building up of parental endurance and maturity. One area I know this is true is with the boys’ temper and acting out. The more we travel down this road, the less I am bothered by whatever the kids throw out there. I have strong resolution to not buy something at the store because we walked by, I am far less likely to be moved by whining or crying, I am simply more aware of when a kid is in genuine distress or if they’re just testing to see if I might cave.

I don’t know as if I would consider the choppy waters we waded through to get to this point pure joy, but in a way I’m thankful to the kids for what they put me through because it seems to be making me a better person. I didn’t appreciate at the time, of course, just like I didn’t always appreciate the way my parents cared for me and I’m certain my kids don’t fully understand the way we work with them. But we’re hopefully always learning, always growing, always working toward something more complete.

So it should be with faith, at least according to this part of James. What doesn’t kill me makes me stronger there, too, sand there should be no doubt: the challenges of parenting and the challenges of faith often are inextricably intertwined. I like to feel I’m becoming more mature, but I also accept I will never be complete, will always lack something. And God is there to bridge the gap, to fill me up, to finish His work.

If we hadn’t decided to have kids almost ten years ago, I wonder what I’d be like today. Certainly I would have grown and changed to some degree, but most assuredly not in the ways parenthood has shaped me and our marriage. It’s not a better or worse proposition, but life would be unequivocally different without these particular kids, without the trials and tribulations of being their dad.

I really wouldn’t change a thing, because I’m pretty happy with where we are right now. I’m excited for what the future holds, but there’s so much to take in on any given day I’m in no rush to meet tomorrow. It will get here soon enough.

A prayer for June 23:

Lord, please continue to mold me into whatever vision you have for my life. Use me as you need me in this world. I want to be an agent for your love and grace, for others to be able to see in me a person who lives redeemed and therefore rejoices. I should thank you every day for leading me down this family path, and I ask you continue to help me see each day as a chance to learn grow and change. Make me wholly yours. Amen.

The quest for balance

James 1:16-18 (NIV)

Don’t be deceived, my dear brothers and sisters. Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows. He chose to give us birth through the word of truth, that we might be a kind of firstfruits of all he created.

Balance is difficult for most people. Doing a good job at work tends to take plenty of focus and energy. Then there are hobbies or a social life between work and sleep. People who aren’t parents still have families and connections to maintain. Even folks who seem to have it all together most likely don’t, and I contend anyone who goes out of their way to express just how well they have their whole life compartmentalized is probably trying to convince themselves more so than their audience.

For me, and perhaps most other folks, this is a big-picture challenge manifested in daily struggles. Today it played out more or less the moment I got home from work. Jack and a friend were in the back yard, Kristie and the younger boys were blowing bubbles in the driveway. After a few minutes of chatting up Max and Charlie, I headed inside to drop off my stuff.

Straight away I could see a pile of dishes that needed my attention. But then I noticed the answering machine blinking, so I listened to the message, which was not for me. So I turned back to the dishes. Kristie came inside to talk to me about the day, bringing Charlie with her. Max, who does not like to be outside “alone,” came and asked if I could play baseball with him.

I told him we might be able to do that once I finished the dishes. But before I emptied the sink, Jack asked me if I could get him something for dinner. Knowing all three boys needed to eat, I fired up the oven and — culinary wizard that I am — opened a box of frozen chicken nuggets.

(Side note: these nuggets are shaped like of dinosaurs. Charlie likes to look at them and roar, then proclaim one of them to be a choo-choo train that drives along the table. If he is particularly inspired, he also allows it to take flight while he makes airplane sounds. Then he bites off the head or tail and moves on to the next one.)

Max still wanted me to play baseball, but by now I had “dinner” in the oven, was still finishing dishes (and then remembered I needed to fill the ice cube trays) plus I had to eat something. I felt bad I couldn’t just drop everything and play — the way I gave up weeding Sunday afternoon in favor of blowing bubbles — but sometimes being a good parent involves taking care of the things that need to get done and not just engaging in all the fun stuff.

At least everything got resolved nicely. Jack’s friend went home right about the time food was ready, so he and Max ate dinner together and spent most of the rest of the night with each other while I gave Charlie a bath and got him to bed. I got a much-needed reminder that I am on duty the second my car pulls in the driveway and that even if I don’t promise I can do something “later,” my kids will take anything but an outright refusal as a glimmer of hope.

This isn’t one of those evenings I’ll regret when we drop Max off at college 13 years from now. Sometimes you need to do the dishes, and I’ve already had too many nights this year where I put off all chores until the kids sleep, which is why I need a caffeine infusion about 90 minutes after I wake up each morning. We spent lots of good time together this weekend and I have chances almost every day to just enjoy each kid. I couldn’t play baseball tonight, but I read at least six bedtime stories.

The challenge isn’t being able to drop everything to play with the kids, it’s about the elusive quest for balance. I could argue it’s important for me to show the boys how a dad can be involved in housework and preparing food. I could suggest kids need to not be given everything they want whenever they want it because the adult world doesn’t work that way. Or I could beat myself up for skewed priorities.

But I’m not doing any of that. Instead I’m going to look at these few verses from James, remember my children are both gifts from God and also the marker of my most important responsibility. And I’m going to continue to ask God to show me what it means to be a good dad, both in the wide-angle view and also the extreme close-ups., then try (but not always succeed) to heed that advice.

For me, the thing about balance is remembering I can’t do it all on my own. I need help, and I know where to go to find it. And that has made all the difference.

A prayer for May 7:

Lord, please help me keep my life in check. I know if I am able to build on you as the foundation, instead of try to fit you in to open spaces, then everything else can fall into place. I have so many people and things that demand my attention, so many responsibilities that must be addressed. Please don’t let me lose my grip on my priorities or forget the lessons learned through trial and error. Open my eyes to see what you would have me hear, and help me to love as you would have me love. Amen.