3 AM Wake-up Calls (and the Parenting Lie I Believed for Too Long)

It’s 3:00 AM, and I’m awakened from deep sleep by rapid, noisy footsteps on creaky wood floors. My bedroom door flings open and my child dramatically flops onto the bed. And it’s that kid, my passionate, strong-willed, highly emotional one- the one who I know probably won’t go back to bed without a fight. Who most days won’t do much of anything without a good deal of prodding, AND me swallowing my I-know-what-I’m-doing prideful parent facade.Two hours later he was asleep, and I was tossing and turning, trying to figure out where I’d gone wrong as a parent and chewing on questions that my anxious, sleep-deprived mind had no ability to reasonably contemplate at that moment.  

We spent the next evening with friends. The kids went to bed late. I was sure they were exhausted. Then, 1 AM that night- I shot out of bed as I heard those familiar toddler steps coming down the hall again. Two hours later, he was asleep, and I lay there again, bitter and angry-- at myself, at my child, truth be told, questioning God for entrusting me with this little person. I felt so inadequate.

The next morning came way too soon. I was groggy and grumpy. I started crying and had to remove myself as I mediated the 4th or 5th sibling rivalry-turned-meltdown before 7 AM had even rolled around. I had totally failed as a parent. I mean, really blown it. My kids were going to turn into lazy, mean adults who have no clue how to deal with disappointment or anger or conflict. Or maybe they were sociopaths. I was never going to get a good consistent night’s sleep again. And it was my fault. I hadn’t prayed for them enough, been stern enough, or been consistent enough. 

At least, those were the lies I was telling myself. 

Maybe you’ve found yourself in a similar situation. Whether it’s sleep schedules or tantrums, moody tweens or rebellious, emotionally distant  teens, parenting daily brings on an onslaught of situations that we find ourselves little prepared for. And even in the areas where we thought we were prepared, we can still be caught off-guard.

Our uniquely and wonderfully made children don’t always respond to our well-thought-out systems. A system or structure that worked for our first child may not be working for our second. Parenting is not one size fits all. Not even close.

And I don’t know about you, but for an order-loving, chaos-hating, workaholic, fix-what’s-broken perfectionist like me, that can be so very defeating. 

Thankfully, God doesn’t leave me to be ravaged by the lies I am so prone to believe. He continues to dismantle lie after lie in my prideful, unbelieving heart. And painful as that process is, I am so grateful. 

In the midst of my broken prayer on Monday morning, I asked God for wisdom and also for someone to talk to who has been there. God did exactly that, and placed me directly in the path of the right person that morning. Finding camaraderie and understanding from someone who had similar struggles with one of her children helped me to look past the feelings of failure which had clouded my vision. Since then, God has been revealing and uprooting various lies that I have been believing about parenting. 

Perhaps the biggest lie I had been believing stems from truth but is, I think, ultimately unhelpful (the Enemy is so crafty at twisting truth into powerfully deceptive lies). I’ve heard it shared as an encouragement on various platforms.

It usually goes something like this-- “Y O U are exactly the momma that your child needs. God chose YOU to be your child’s momma.” This is shared usually with the intent of encouraging us, especially when we get stuck in the rut of comparing ourselves to the moms that do things perfectly, when we are just foundering day after day (again, I hope you catch the sarcasm). I suppose in this sense, it’s a helpful reminder. Comparison will definitely steal your joy and cloud your vision. As a mom, the only standards to which I should be measuring myself are God's, not the latest trends from instagram influencers or even the other moms in my own circle.

BUT my prideful Self had been making way too much emphasis in the ME in that statement. I was interpreting and applying it something like this-- “God chose me to be his mom. Therefore, I must be uniquely qualified to deal with all his idiosyncrasies and tantrums. I must be the best one for the job. Otherwise, God wouldn't have chosen me for this. He would have chosen someone else."

... Because if I were God, I would entrust children to the parents that are best-qualified to deal with them. Duh. And God thinks exactly like me, right? (I hope you feel the sarcasm here.)

 

As I type the words and see them plainly, the foolishness of my thoughts, and the prison that they were keeping me in, becomes more and more visible. 

God doesn’t think like me at all. His ways are sooo much higher than mine, and His thoughts are not my thoughts (See Isaiah 55 or Romans 11). He doesn’t choose the best qualified-- He grows and qualifies those He has chosen. He chose a bunch of fishermen, a political rebel, and a tax-collector, to name a few, to be the ones who’d pioneer his world-changing mission and carry His message into the world. What makes me think He chose me because I was “the best one for the job”?

So how does this higher-than-me God typically think and operate (as revealed in His Word)? 

First of all, I know this: God thinks about shortcomings and inadequacy a lot differently than I do. Whereas I am all-too-often shocked when I come face- to-face with my inadequacies, He never is. God knows everything about me, better than I know myself (and still loves me!). His plan is to work in spite of those weaknesses and through those weaknesses and eventually work some of those weaknesses out of me. 

So, while I’m making myself busy trying to fix my child’s behavior, God is actually in the business of fixing MY heart.

 Also, God is not limited by limitations! Each time I see my own sin reflected in the mirror of my child, each time I get discouraged at a seeming lack of fruit for my efforts, each time I realize that I. Just. Can’t. Even. --is a chance for me to turn to God and fall at his feet in trust and surrender. “His grace is sufficient for me, for his power is made perfect in weakness.”

As with any task God has given me, His call is for me to be faithful with whatever I’ve been given (weaknesses and all)- not lazy, not focused merely on numbers or quantitative gains. He has called me to quiet faithfulness, and in parenting that often looks like pursuing the heart of my angry child, holding the one that would push me away, praying in secret for the one who doesn't even know they're lost, and pointing them to the Savior that can meet him in the midst of their struggles and triumphs.

When I am fixated on results rather than faithfulness in parenting, I will almost always look for a quick fix, take short-cuts, and tend to ignore the heart of my child in favor of fixing their behavior. This is not the parenting God has called me to. 

 Parenting for results almost always leads to either pride or self-condemnation. Two sides of the same ugly coin. We start to feel like we’re exemplary parents when our children are turning out as we had hoped and prayed, or we feel like a load of [insert poop emoji here] when they don’t.

I think God would have us to remember that though we often reap what we sow, it is He alone that gives the growth (1 Cor. 3:6-7). So I must humbly surrender my child and my parenting to Him, knowing that any fruit in my child’s life is ultimately a work of His grace, and not merely my own efforts. 

Another downfall of my results-based parenting is that it tends to make me see my child as a project more than a person. As a general rule,  I tend to be very task-oriented rather than relationship oriented in life, so the inclination in me to view my loved ones as fix-it projects is especially strong.

Thankfully, God is giving me fresh eyes to see how crucial the relationship I have with my children is. God doesn’t require me to fix myself up in order to enter into a relationship with Him, nor should I require that of my children.  In my relationship with God, he initiates, pursues, listens, encourages, and shows patience day after day. And it’s through that love and trust relationship that He disciplines me, corrects me, and points me to a better Way. I am inspired afresh at the beauty of the Gospel when I think about this and moved to parent differently as I remember the patient love of my Heavenly Dad. 

So YES, I am the Mom that God chose for my children, and I take great joy in that! But He didn’t choose me because I am the one that can handle them best and "fix" their struggles. The emphasis is not so much on me and my abilities. But on His love for me and for my kids. His knowledge of what is ultimately best, for both me AND my children's idolatrous hearts. As long as he has me and my children here on this earth together, I am the one for this job, because He chose me for this job. Not the other way around. This may seem like a small distinction, but for me, the shift in my thinking has been monumental.

My job is not to fix all that's broken in the people I love; it's to live for and point them to the One who actually can. 

My children will only have one Savior in their lives. And it will not be me. If I’m not pointing them to Jesus at every turn, in the midst of their sin and in mine, then I’ve missed the mark. 

Also YES, I am the momma that God chose for my children, but the opposite is true as well.

My children are exactly the ones that were chosen for me.

The relationship between me and my children is meant to further grow and shape ME as God’s child.

God knows the ugly idols that hide in the depths of my heart. And he knew exactly what he was doing when he gave me children that expose and uproot those idols on a daily basis.

Parenting from the very beginnings of labor is a mixture of joy and pain. It is hard, and it is deeply rewarding. It is exciting, and it is terrifying. Experiencing a daily assault on our pride, self-reliance, and demands for respect, adulation and gratitude always are. But God loves us! Loves us enough to not leave us in those lifeless pursuits. Enough to point us to Him every day, all day, as we experience the difficulties and joys of caring for the precious gifts of our children. 

May we run to His open arms at every bump and bruise and victory along the way. 

By His grace,

Diana