My grandma told a story of my sister finding a robin’s egg as we were walking home from church one spring. They lived in the parsonage near the church. Grandpa passed away when I was 5 so my sister and I (twins) were no more than that. She was so excited with her discovery but too small, or perhaps a better word is inexperienced, to protect it. The little egg was soon smashed by the very hands that sought to help it grow into a beautiful bird.
Our children are in those eggs. Sometimes the things we do, although desiring to protect and help them grow, actually bruise or shatter their shell. Thankfully, unlike the bird, God repairs their shell, but not without consequence. Each time the shell is repaired a scar is left behind. I picture it as a tattoo, of sorts, of the scars on His own hands that resulted from His taking on of our sins. This tattoo serves as a reminder, and better yet teacher, that sin has consequences as does squeezing too tightly.
There is a time in a child’s life that you must let go and let her fly on her own. It starts when she is a baby. God knew we were not capable of letting go all at once. So we release slowly: first to let her walk, then to let her make friends and go places with out us and ultimately to live her own life hopefully rooted in the Scripture and full of desire to follow Him.
As a parent we influence that release but we can not orchestrate it. I can not be all that she needs. I am fallible. If I were perfect, she would have no need for her Saviour.
It is both a freeing and convicting idea. Freeing in the sense that God, in His infinite wisdom that far surpasses my understanding, is ultimately in control. But convicting in that He placed the fragile egg in MY hand and has instructed ME to help it grow, not alone but with His Word as my guide. In order to best protect my child, I need to know what wisdom is contained in that guide. Do I dare walk this path without consulting it? Unfortunately, if I were to answer honestly, it would be “yes” on many occasions.
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Background for the above article:
Today was a particularly tough parenting morning. One child threw a fit, first over her pants then over her sock. Another was extremely slow in preparation. I was slow to get up and therefore running late (which despite all the jokes really is something that makes me crazy).
I finally lost it. We got in the car. One child picked briefly at another. And with one sentence uttered in anger, I squelched every inkling of happy left in that car. We drove the rest of the way in silence. When I dropped them off, one had quiet tears, one said not a word but slipped a small piece of candy in my purse (a peace offering) and the third uttered a softly spoken “I’m sorry mom”. I knew I had done wrong and I sincerely apologized to each individually. The feeling that I was leading them incorrectly sat heavy on my chest.
I often drive to work in silence as it helps me reflect. The image of the bird, the bruised shell and God’s perfect Word as my guide were what I reflected on for the rest of the drive. From thus came the above.
