The Parenting Mistake We all Make and Need to Stop (Plus a Giveaway)

 We all do it. 

We think we’re protecting them. We think it’s for their benefit.

But we’ve all done it at some time, and it happens most often with toddlers or preschoolers. 

The setting is different for everyone, but it comes up. In the lull of a terse conversation, a child pipes in. Depending on their language abilities, the words vary, but the meaning is the same. Written across their brow, stamped into their eyes, and tilted into their head slant is the same question. “What’s wrong?” 

They heard it in our voices, or saw it in our eyes. Causes vary:  a stressful work situation, a financial tightness, or a brief marriage spat. 

Right then, we face a choice. 

Ten years ago, I responded differently than I do today. A friend of mine revolutionized the way I answer that question.

Ten years ago, I would have gently changed the conversation, or brushed aside my toddler’s questions with a slight “It’s nothing. We’re fine”-kind of answer. I so easily wanted to err on the side of protecting them from troubles or disagreements.

My friend Anne, a counselor in the mental health field for over twenty years, a licensed social worker with a masters in educational counseling and a certified Crisis Intervention Specialist quietly taught me differently one day as we worked together nearby. 

Children are so intuitive and observant. They sense when mom or dad are tense, angry or upset. But when we dismiss their worries, it discredits their inner gut feeling that something isn’t right. Anne went on to explain that while our motives are pure in wanting to keep their minds free of concerns, we end up doing our children a disservice because they learn to not trust their gut feelings that speak up announcing tension, troubles, or potentially dangerous situations. 

Building confident, perceptive children starts with acknowledging what they are sensing and can’t put into words yet. 

Your choice? My choice? In that moment when huge brown eyes are staring up at you, under furrowed brows… pause, get down to eye level, and affirm what they sensed.

“Yes, Daddy and I are thinking about something right now. You’re right.” 

Kiss them, smooth back that hair, and then say, “But it’ll be okay. And God is good. Thanks, my sweet.” 

Anne has written a poignant hardcover children’s book giving parents and caregivers tips to help children process their emotions. Through beautiful watercolor illustrations and a compelling story, families walk through a child’s hurt, disappointment and grief to a repaired relationship. 

I’d love to give away two copies of this book! There are several ways to win. In the comments below, tell me your thoughts (or disagreements) on this post above, or share a piece of parenting advice you've received and your impressions of it -- both good or bad.

Here's how:

1.) Post your answer in the comments below to get your name in the hat.
2.) Optional: Answer this question on your blog also with a link to my blog there for another chance to win.
3.) Optional: After commenting with your answer here, click Share to Facebook to post this site with your comment on your facebook wall too.

Three ways to earn your name in the hat for the books. Let me know what you do in the comments section below so I can get your name listed as many times as possible. I'll post the winner on Monday.

Keeping the Peace on Family Road Trips

Warm transparent lake water lapped over my shoulders, smelling of summer and snails. Sand slipped up my toes. Family camp at Camp Jim looked like red lifeguards on floating docks, life-jacketed preschoolers squealing from yellow water slides, Bible songs and stories ringing within wooden chapels, and families holding hands to pray around cafeteria tables.


Our family just arrived home from five days in northern MN, where we met the great staff and volunteers of Camp Jim, and ate meals, swam, and studied God’s word alongside families from throughout MN and Iowa. Mark was the keynote speaker, and I was thrilled to speak with the women on two occasions also.

Three thousand fifty-two mosquito bites later, we drove home, crammed into a muggy vehicle beside fast-food cartons and a new hognose snake. As the sweat beaded up and traffic slowed to a one-lane crawl, we determined to stay kind and patient with each other. Knowing how easy it would be to end the trip crabby with each other, we made concentrated efforts to avoid that.

“Shhh, only the four year old is allowed to have verbal meltdowns,” we declared. “We can do this. We can use God’s help and strength to be patient with each other.”

We told jokes, laughing at our inane humor. The quips mounted and built on each other, mingling jokes in a way that was funny only to our sweaty, tired family of five. “If a zebra laid an egg…”

We played the alphabet game. We dozed off, and accidentally released the snake in the car. It didn’t get far. We worked at more jokes, and danced along to music, wiping sweat from our foreheads.

Eventually familiar sights raced by our windows, and we pulled into our driveway. “We’re home!” Bulging suitcases and sleeping bags ascended the stairs, mail slipped around my fingers, and the phone blinked at us.

Thank you, Abba, for a great week at family camp, and for speaking through us. Thanks for helping us get home cheerfully and kindly too. What a joy to laugh together.

Hi you, sorry for my absence the last five days. What have you been up to? What fun road-trip strategies does your family have?

Sneezes, Chocolate, and Counting Gifts

Sneezes chase her into the house, the garage door shutting softer than her achoos. Sleepover energy-drains and allergies have left her red-eyed and dragging. She slinks away to her pink room, with my suggestion for a nap trailing after her. 

A weekend of painting, plumbing, and home repairs has left our home shining and our bodies sapped, but we are thankful. Thankful for parents who spend several vacation days with us to brush, roll, weed, wipe, re-screen, shelve, and repair. Thankful to him...

Linking with Ann today, I count His gifts: 

-the sunflower seedlings and butterflied-morning-glory plants who escaped the ravenous rabbit

-a cool home on 99 degree days

-chocolate paint spread by mother and daughter-in-law while laughing and grinning

-family men sweating and assembling white metal shelving together, penciling lines, and watching yellow bubbles bob balance

-preschool kisses in Perry the Platypus-inspired dashes

-neighbor visits and the aroma of deliciously simmering Vietnamese cooking wafting by

-plunging hands in dirt to move and transplant an indoor older than my children

-phone calls from camp from my life-guarding son. “I found a hognose snake, Mom! They’re rare. Can we keep him?”

-the book of Amos opening wide, and the Author’s promise elsewhere to “open my eyes that I may see wonderful things in your law.”

Hello! What have your last three days been like? 

I Don't Know You But... Enlisted for a Stranger

Walking last night in my new neighborhood, I smiled at passing cars, picked up trash, and spied out the woods and pond across the street, hearing red-winged blackbirds colareeee to each other from among the cattails. Dust quickly coated my toes a gritty grey, and a speeding pick-up truck sucked birch saplings after it, and rattled a glassy green energy drink bottle among the pebbles. I grabbed the tiny glass bottle, seeing beauty in its potential, a vase in the making. 

Orange and black butterfly wings frozen in death nestled between common plantain broad leaves. An array of curled, wrinkled pages suddenly grabbed my attention. Scattered across the grassy ditch fluttered fragments of an entire Bible. Samuel, Kings, Psalms, the pages were sandy and crimped from days in the sun and rain, but the words were still legible. 

How did it get here? Did it fly out a car window? Did a bicyclist throw it away from winding wooded paths? Was someone curious, worried, fearful, angry?

I gathered words, lifted fragile wrinkled pages, assembling a thick stack. Cradling a frozen-in-time butterfly beauty in one hand, and a timeless manuscript and glassy green bottle in the other hand, I walked. 

“Pray,” the Creator said. “Pray blessings on the former holder of this Bible. Now. Here. Pray.”

“Abba, you know and love this person. Whether it was lost or thrown, I pray they would remember words read here. May the truth there haunt their mind, and whisper to them now. May they see people of You to be kind, loving, true, and different. May they feel your deep love for them and see you in a new way. May they hear you whispering your love for them, calling their names. May they hunger for you and your words. Please provide them with a new Bible.” 

In Africa, my parents told of a Muslim man who had had dreams of Jesus (Isa). Wanting desperately to know whether the Allah of the Koran or the Jesus (Isa) of the Bible was the true God, he prayed to both, asking them to show him. "If Allah is God, then get me a Koran," he said to no human aloud. "If Jesus (Isa) is God, then get me a Bible." He told no-one of his quest and waited. Sitting down beside his tree at lunch-time, he found a Bible. His journey for truth continued.

In my own melodramatic manner, I walked my muggy street last night,  praying for a stranger, knowing that God is big, and he is good. He knows their story and the intertwining threads being woven. I simply obey him and pray when he tells me to. Nearing the end of my road, I turned around to start home. A crimson sun dipped low on the horizon, exploding pink and tangerine across the sky.

Hi friends. I appreciate you here. Have you had a time when you felt God telling you to pray for something or someone?

Love It, Like It, or Back on the Rack?

Shiny black swimsuits draped from hangers on each finger. Thirteen of them, to be precise. With a $10 promotional gift card that came in the mail, and needing a replacement bottom for my swimsuit, I hit the clearance racks. 

It was my husband’s idea. When your man notices that your swimsuit bottom is too frayed and suggests you go shopping, you know you’ve waited too long! I agreed and raced off to the store. 

Piped in music joined me in the carpeted cubicle, as swimsuit after swimsuit took its turn in front of the mirror. The store had cleverly arranged three hooks across the dressing room walls with the captions “Love it,” Like It” and –far to the right—one that simply said,“Back on the Rack.” After trying on several of the swimsuit bottoms, I thought they should have added a fourth hook, reading, “Wow, that’s an unattractive place to put elastic leg bands!” What a humbling and hilarious adventure swimsuit hunting is, huh? 

Moving swimsuits from the Maybe/Like It category to the Love It slot, or throwing them on the “Back on the Rack” hook, I narrowed the options. Finally, trying on again the options in the Like it and Love it Category, I chose a winner. 

Today God whispers to me that I treat my spiritual life like a swimsuit hunt some days. Some attitudes and thoughts that I pick up are obvious “Back on the Rack” choices. Others attitudes, actions and thoughts border the line, though, and I find myself holding onto them in the Maybe pile. I know, God, that it’s not quite something you love, but perhaps it’s a maybe? I hem and haw to him. Items pile up on the Like It hook, some sin, some fine, but none of them Love Its. 

Lord, give me wisdom to discern, and the desire to send things back on the rack. 

(The swimsuit, by the way? I got it for only $4.99 after clearance and the promotion card. Don’t you love a good deal!) 

I love hearing from you. If you are reading this via email you can click here to leave a comment. What’s the best deal you got recently? Or, if you are feeling braver, what are some things on your Like It hook that you know you need to send Back on the Rack?

A Twilight Romance

A summery twilight spills sharp sunlight on my new neighbor’s trees – the green hues popping vividly against the blue sky behind. Inside, I type on a make-shift computer desk of two coffee tables and a bookshelf. Preschooler fights bedtime behind me, and the teens are off to camp. Caramel-, mocha- and chocolate milk-colored paint chips march along the wall behind my couch, waiting for inspiration. Jazzy vocals from Pandora get my shoulders bouncing and jivin’. Partially-unpacked boxes stack in corners, and newly-found Legos mound in a corner. 

The beauty of fluttering leaves and sun-dripped trees never ceases to captivate me. Am I too easy to please? Creator God, your art amazes me. “You steal my heart and you take my breath away… How could I stand here and not be moved by you?” 

Take a second to watch the video clip below of a drama done by our senior high mime team a few years ago to Lifehouse’s “Everything” song that I quoted above. You are being romanced, friend…  

Share this with friends and family. 

…You calm the storms and you give me rest
You hold me in your hands
You won't let me fall
You steal my heart and you take my breath away
Would you take me in, take me deeper now
And how can I stand here with you and not be moved by you
Would you tell me how could it be any better than this
…

Cause you're all I want, you're all I need
You're everything, everything
You're all I want
You're all I need
You're everything, everything
You're all I want
You're all I need
You're everything, everything
You're all I want
You're all I need
Everything, everything

And how can I stand here with you and not be moved by you
Would you tell me how could it be any better than this… 

 

 Linking with Ann and Shanda.

An Army Descends

They came in droves. 

Cars pulled up on the grass at the side of the road, or turned into an abandoned gas station across the street. Moms with kids, dads with sons, single college students, and teens on bikes. In ninety-degree weather with sweat beading across faces and arms, they marched up and down the Uhaul ramp, carrying cardboard boxes and bed-frames. I stood in the center of the garage, scanning the boxes for black permanent marker codes, and directing traffic. “Master bedroom? Upstairs, on the kitchen and dining floor, please.” “School books? Garage for now, thanks.” 

In the kitchen a crew plungered our plugged up sink, scoured counters, and scraped old grease off cabinets with razors. In the bathrooms, they shined our faucets and scrubbed shower walls. Teens vacuumed the stained carpets in preparation for a carpet contractor from church, and other students wiped windows with rag socks, or perched on dressers to reach ceiling fans. 

“I’ll take Daniel to the park,” said another friend, whisking my preschooler away to swim and slide with minis. 

Earlier than scheduled the Uhaul was unloaded, and more friends dropped by with sloppy joes to feed an army. The army ate. Sprawled in the grass in the shade from the deck, we caught the breeze and refueled. Sweat glistened, and water bottle carcasses lined up in ecological nightmares. 

 “Do you have supper plans for tomorrow?” another friend asked. “I’ll bring tacos.” 

“We have dressers and desks for you, if you are interested,” said a father and sons. Other friends held onto and stored a loft bed set for one of our kids for ten months, and offered us a t.v. 

That night, we fell asleep on drying carpet, in our new home, overwhelmed at God’s extravagant care for us, and the humbling, amazing love of his system – the church body. Without the constraints of a church building’s walls, Jesus-followers from all corners of our lives came together and showered love on us. 

We are still humbled, stunned, and thankful to our God for his care. 

I am amazed at the way God's people can come together in love.

What about you? When have you felt tangible community? When have you not?

Linking with Emily and friends at Imperfect Prose.

Car photo credit