I am a Father
By the grace (and humor) of God, I am a father. Three small children find themselves under the care and guardianship of my wife and I. Generally, this is a good thing.
There are moments though, when their small faces grow set and determined. Their eyes are tight. Their small jaws clench, and they are Making a Stand about something that we have asked them to do - or not do. The determination is palpable. It rolls off of them like noiseless sonic booms that vibrate against our hearts as though to break them. There is a moment in which this is cute. There are times when we even want to laugh - and sometimes do. Such determination in such small bodies is an amazement to me. Surely I could never have been like that? Surely I never am like that?
But we are caregivers and guardians. It is our duty as relatively responsible adults to take care of and ensure the well-being of our small charges. Even when they are not particularly thrilled with the form that this takes. Even if it means that they are expected to pick up their toys. Or not pummel their siblings. Or not to refuse to follow a request or a directive from my wife and I. The stakes are small at this point. A cluttered floor or not. Clean hands or not.
But the stakes rise as they grow older.
And at some point, the difference between obedience and disobedience is no longer cute. No longer laughable. It becomes devastating. And the waves of determination don't just threaten to break our hearts, they threaten to capsize the small crafts of our children's lives in ways they can't even recognize. Because they are children. And because children need caregivers and guardians, whether they're seven years old or 17. The nature of the care and guardianship changes. The principles don't.
This is not easy work. It's relatively easy now, but I expect that it will grow more challenging and difficult as our children grow and establish stronger peer networks. The pressures of fitting in and countless other measures of self-worth will compete more actively with the principles and guidelines that we seek to undergird our combined existence with. It won't be easy work, but it will be very, very important work.
One of the most important aspects of that work is for them to learn to see themselves as part of a larger whole. A family at first. A school later, perhaps. A congregation of believers. An employer. Society as a whole. The world. To see their gifts and desires and abilities not simply in terms of what they want or think they should have, but in terms of how they can benefit those around them. How they can make the world a better place in tangible terms.
This is not a popular approach to parenting these days, apparently. (http://www.salon.com/mwt/col/tenn/2009/06/18/16_year_old/index.html) For reasons I have not yet ascertained, I am suddenly not able to create hyperlinks in my posts. Please be patient until I work this out with my hosting provider!
Now the emphasis is on the individual child. Only on their needs, never on their obligations or responsibilities. They are not part of a larger entity where their actions have consequences and repercussions. They are too young to be held accountable for that sort of thing. But they apparently are old enough to determine their own behaviors regardless of how it might affect others. All privilege, no responsibility. The benefits of being an adult with none of the responsibility that helps to check our natural impulses from time to time, and which generally make us halfway bearable as neighbors, employees, colleagues.
There is a kernel of wisdom in what this 'advice' columnist says. Tragically, it is buried beneath such a momumental pile of crap that you can't really see it any more. You can only hope that it somehow germinates and tunnels up through the crap to tower over it someday. But by then, the writer and his daughter will likely be far worse off because of the advice of this person.
The world is in many ways designed around teenagers. The fashion and entertainment industries are dominated by their input and buying power. The values of those in their 20's and even 30's are being dictated by the whims of people barely into their teens. Our culture is hyper-focused on the teenage years as the most important and best years of our lives. And as our society attempts to portray them, how could they not be? All play and no work! Sit in school for a few hours a day and go party at night! Put up with your parents as little as possible, flaunting their authority and the very practical reasons for certain rules, and be supported in your insolence by advice columnists! What a field day!
No, the advice columnist is clearly not a parent. Because a parent should be able to tell you that cherishing your child does not mean that there are not rules. That empowering your child does not mean eliminating their responsibilities as a human being, as a member of a family, as a student. That attempting to allow your child to do as they see fit, chalking it all up to valuable learning experiences, is actually a fair guarantee that they aren't going to learn, and that consequently a larger portion - or perhaps all - of the rest of their lives will be spent making up the learning curve their parents didn't have the strength to support them in as teenagers.
Children are a gift from God. They enrich the lives of their parents and the world around them. But they arrive in need of guidance and shaping and molding, so that they can discover who they are and whose they are, so they can gain the confidence necessary to live their lives with meaning and with dignity. God does not provide children to us fully formed, fully shaped, and full of wisdom. Parents are expected to provide some of these things. And to create the parameters for the child to acquire more of each in their own experiences.
Don't listen to this person's advice. It apparently comes from no experience other than the self-centered memories of a typically turbulent adolescence. A teenager's happiness is not the measure of good parenting. Perhaps someday this columnist will discover that.
I certainly hope that my children do.
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