“Woo-Hoo!” I exclaimed as we left the restaurant, giving Greg a playful punch on the arm. “Show me to the shoe department!”
We had just been treated to a lovely dinner by our son, celebrating the first paycheck of his adult, working-man career. Our youngest was officially on his own, and I was thrilled for him, and very proud.
Parenting is a task that involves constant transitions, some of which are much more comfortable than others. We rejoice at that first word and first step, at drivers’ licenses and first dates, but we also struggle as those little feet disappear into that Pre-K classroom, or as we drive away from a college campus, leaving that big-eyed freshman sitting forlornly on the side of a dorm room bed.
This is the time of year when my senior students begin to express frustration with their parents, and their parents wonder whatever happened to their wonderful, compliant, cooperative teen. That’s because they are suddenly in the throes of one of those painful transitions, the natural tug-of-war involved in the transfer of power as children take on new privileges and responsibilities as young adults.
We’ve covered the Golden Rule and table manners and speed limit and following distance, and our kids don’t even need our help with car payments or groceries any more.
And yet, they are no less in our thoughts, no less in our prayers, no less the objects of our love and longing for all of God’s best, than they were when we snuggled their downy little heads and rocked them to sleep as babies.
But that night, I lay in bed blankly realizing that, indeed, I would not be checking to see if that silver Ford truck was in the driveway when I awoke in the night, nor would Dr. Pepper be a permanent part of the grocery list. My role as a mother had once again changed.
As I waited for sleep to come, I also realized that, while one phase of our parenting had ended, there was a whole new era open for exploration, one that will require no less love, no less commitment, and no less earnest seeking of Godly wisdom than the ones before, as we set out to be a resource and encouragement to our adult children.
Knowing how closely I hold my own children in my heart, I find great comfort in the thought that my Heavenly Father’s love for me will never be diminished, either. And I find a great challenge in learning to parent well as seasons change in a relationship that simply does not end.
Martha
It makes a huge difference, you know.
I only had my Daddy for seventeen years, but I feel the power of his impact on my life every day, even 42 years later. He was never too busy to talk to me, to read to me, to swing me around or give me a wild ride around the back yard, clinging to an old bedspread. He let me watch him work, and hand him tools, and I was happy just to sit beside him watching thunderheads build in the distance on hot summer nights, or stand at the window watching snowflakes fall. But the most amazing, life-altering thing my father did for me is this: he told me who I was. Over and over, in words and deeds, he told me that I am capable, I am honorable, I am worthy of being loved, and because I believed him, I was free to try to meet his challenge to live a life unafraid to give love.
My children have an amazing father, too. For 28 years, I have watched Greg invest all of the very best of himself into Annie and Matt. No matter what demands business or ministry might place on his time, his first effort, his best creativity, went into the priority of their lives. He provided for their physical needs, but even more, he saw to it that they had access every moment to his attention and his participation in what interested them. Whether it was watching the Muppet Movie 300 times with Annie, shooting baskets or reading sports books with Matt, or never missing a play or a game for either of them, they always had the great gift of their dad’s joyful, approving presence. As he planned wonderful trips, as he disciplined and taught, as he intentionally began conversations about God and life and truth and their roles in God’s world, Greg, too, gave his children the amazing gift. Today, as young adults, they are people of faith, sensitive to the needs of those around them, filled with the courage of their convictions, confident of God’s calling on their lives, living with great joy, in large part because their father told them who they are.
Sadly, I know far too many young people who have not had the benefit of a Godly, committed father to tell them who they are. It breaks my heart to see these kids struggle to figure out who they are, to wrestle with the question of their own value, because their fathers are absent, or, worse, abusive. That need to be valued, to be taught, to be challenged, and to be enjoyed is what I believe drives so many of our teens today to make the unfortunate decisions that send their lives into tailspins.
But the wonderful news is that, no matter what the circumstances in our homes, no matter what our age or the situations of life right now, we all have a Father, and He has told us in no uncertain terms who we are.
“For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life.” John 3:16
“But as many as received him, to them gave he power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe on his name. ” John 1:12
“And because ye are sons, God hath sent forth the Spirit of his Son into your hearts, crying, Abba, Father.” Galatians 4:6
On this Fathers Day weekend, our prayer is that we all will listen anew as our wonderful Abba tells us who we are in Him.
Martha
“Woo-Hoo!” I exclaimed as we left the restaurant, giving Greg a playful punch on the arm. “Show me to the shoe department!”