Loving to Fear

When I was single and “enjoying my life”, I had a friend who had recently gotten engaged and was super in love with her fiancé. She talked about him often, their future, how wonderful he was, how they met, the wonderful way things worked out, etc. I was sincerely happy for my friend, but even though I thought I may, I was never jealous.

Don’t get me wrong; it’s not that I wasn’t interested in getting married or I didn’t like the guy. I think it was the fear she began to express that sort of put me off. Initially, it was that she feared something would happen to him prior to them getting married. I was confused by this and asked why this would even be going through her mind. She stated that she had never been so in love in her life, and he was so perfect for her that she feared that she would lose him before she had an opportunity to enjoy this fairy-tale like love.

Then, they got married, and she stated that she seemed to be more fearful than before they got married. She feared that he would go to work and not make it home, or something bad would happen to him, and she would end up alone, without the man that made her so happy. This irked me for a while, and I just figured I’d pray for her, that it would pass.

Less than two years later, I was engaged and married. Sadly enough, I began experiencing similar fears my friend had. The only time I’d ever felt it prior was the day my family saw me off at the airport, when I was leaving Nigeria for the US. I remember hiding my tears from my family, hugging each member tightly, in case I never saw them again. Due to the circumstance, I had convinced myself that could very well be true. I covered my face and cried myself to sleep on that long plane ride.

Now, here I was…happy, loving my life, my husband, but each morning, fearing one of us may not live to see the other at the end of the day. I’d pray fervently each morning, before my husband woke up, that if I could just find some grace in God’s eyes, we could both start and end the day together. With time, I came to the realization that my life, and all that pertained to it, were in His Hands. There was no move either of us would make that He would not have a say in, and His plans for us are always with our best interest in mind.

Then, we had our first child. Oh, the new wave of fear I experienced! A dream of my son being forgotten while at a water park, in the care of a friend, and me finally finding him floating, sun burned very badly and blistering threw me over the edge. From that moment, I would not let anyone drive him, or any of my children anywhere. If it was not me, then it would have to be my husband. I widened the pool to my sister, but that was it, for a while. I would not let anyone, who I could not forgive, if something was to occur, to drive them any where.

Today, I would like to say things have changed, but only slightly so. I realize that sometimes we love so much, care so much, that we forget the fact that God is truly in control. I pray each morning, for every member of my family, but because I’m human, I do have to remind myself daily of His great love for us. I also recall that all experienced was part of what he feared the most. I refuse to be Job and lose all I love because I forgot I’ve been given a spirit of love, power, and a sound mind. Also, “There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment…”

I cannot allow myself to love to the point of fear. 

You Parent Your Way, I’ll Parent Mine

In a world laden with self-help books, do-it-yourself guides, etc., it would seem that parenting would be so much easier than it is. Books on raising autistic children, the angry child, the difficult child, and so many more make it seem that as long as each step or piece of advice is followed, parent can be as easy as 1, 2, 3. Well, for those of you who are single, married with no children, or even have children, parenting can sometimes be quite difficult.

I’ve had individuals, parents and non-parents, praise me based on my children’s behavior, and how respectful they are. I’d like to say this makes me feel good about my parenting skills, but it puts quite a bit of pressure on me to ensure that my children continue to see Christ in me and trust that I love them enough to do what I believe is best for them. They spend most of their day with me as their primary caregiver and the main adult they interact with on a daily basis. At such impressionable ages, I have to be conscious about the words I speak, whether to them or others, and I must be cautious about my actions.

Some have scolded me, believing that how interact with each child is different, or may be viewed as unfair. However, once again, in parenting, I have seen Christ’s heart and have a better understanding why He says He is no respecter of person. His approach with each of us is different, knowing the intricate parts of us: our hearts, our emotions, our desires, what makes us tick, our future, and everything that matters to us. The way He scolds me may be different from the way He scolds another brother or sister in Christ. I, for one, am stubborn. It takes almost a slap across the face for me to stop dead in my tracks to make me realize the consequences of my actions. While, a “check” in one’s spirit may be all it takes for another to come to the same realization.  

Each of my children, I’ve noted in a previous blog, are similar but VERY different. The way I handle one child for not listening may not be the same way I discipline the other. However, discipline them, I will, because I firmly believe in what Proverbs 13:24 says:

He who spares the rod hates his son, but he who loves him is careful to discipline him.

I never really understood the reason behind this when growing up; I just thought our parents were mean or old fashioned. How could their forms of discipline really achieve the desired effect: obedience? Somehow, someway though, it worked, and I’m living proof of that. If my parents had not disciplined us the way they did, I would believe I could do anything I wanted anytime I wanted, because lack of discipline would be interpreted as them approving of my behavior, in my mind. And inevitably, I would repeat the actions.

Children crave structure. It’s just a given. No matter how difficult a child is, as a parent strives to implement structure in their lives, behavior will improve, even if only a little. Having worked with children with behavioral health issues for five years, I worked with some pretty messed up children - socially, behaviorally, mentally. Week one would be the most difficult: establishing who is boss, reiterating rules, being consistent with scheduled tasks, and breaking bad habits. The first step in establishing who was boss was  by having them address staff as “Mr” and “Miss”, versus simply calling them by their first names. Then, the other processes are tackled one at a time.

Parents who picked their children up at the end of each day would notice the interaction of their children with us and inquire, “How in the world did you get him/her to pick up his toys without having to yell or end up picking it up yourself?” My answer was always “Structure is key; every child needs it.”

Regardless of what anyone thinks about how I parent my children, what is important to me is that I “train a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not turn from it”, as Proverbs 22:6 advises. I endeavor to raise godly children, individuals who make a positive impact on this generation. With that as my goal, I will be certain to stress to my children that “Bad company corrupts good character," per 1 Corinthians 15:33. This is simply to ensure that all the time I spend investing in them is not undone by fair-weather friends or “the little foxes that spoil the vine” of love.

Our dad used to tell my siblings and I a story about a woman who never disciplined her son. People would complain about him, warn her about the direction he was going in his life, and advise her to better lead him as a parent rather than as a friend. She shrugged these off and considered the fact that she and her son were so close as sufficient for her. Unfortunately, years passed and he was convicted of a crime, for which the punishment was death. Prior to being executed, he requested to speak to his mother one last time. She wept bitterly to see her dear son one last time. When he asked her to draw close, she assumed he was going to whisper how much he loved and cared for her. Instead, he bit off her ear and rattled off insults about how if she had just instructed him better, rather than covering for him when he was in trouble, he would not be dying so young.

I refuse to be that mother. I believe my way of parenting is God’s way. Where I err, I believe He grants me grace to improve. You parent your way…I’ve chosen mine.