There are days when I wonder how in the world I am ever going to prepare my kids for real life when many days I, myself, don’t feel prepared for real life. It’s not as though my parents did a terrible job of raising me. They did a fantastic job, actually! They pushed me in my strengths and supported me through my weaknesses (*cough, cough, basketball*). They taught me numerous life skills and provided an excellent education. And they loved me through everything.
Now, as a grown up, there are some mornings I really don’t feel like getting out of bed. It’s a two-fold problem, really. My bed is deliciously comfortable. We recently upgraded to a king size bed that isn’t indented or smooshy anywhere. I also have an infatuation with comfortable blankets (I refuse to count how many are in this house. I’m sure we have room for more.) Oh, and I finally found a pillow that is the perfect shape for my neck and head. With all this warm goodness, I have created a beautiful cocoon that takes all my will power to crawl out of in the morning.
The other problem I have in the morning is that once I get up, I have to start a busy day. (I’m sure many of you have crazier schedules than mine so I won’t complain.) Starting the day means that I have to finish the day and once my feet hit the floor, then my determination and self-discipline have to take over because: do you know how much easier it would be to stay in bed and not do all the things and see all the people?! I love our things and people, but it still takes effort to get going in the right direction in the morning.
So, what if I’m not doing a good job of teaching my kids to be self-disciplined or determined? What if I’m creating lazy children or maybe I’m actually putting too much pressure on them? What if I haven’t given them the tools to deal with the scary people, the mean people, the people who need to be understood, and those that need to see their love? There are a thousand things I’ve neglected or done wrong, I’m sure of it. I know this because I see it in my own life. I’m so far from having life figured out. It’s like the longer I live, the more I realize just how much I don’t know. (Can I please get an “Amen!” on that one?!)
But you know what gift I have that HAS prepared me for real life? It’s the same gift I keep striving to give my children. The gift of God. A great, big, wonderful God. A God who is always victorious, always looking over us. A great, big, wonderful God. (I couldn’t help it, the childhood melody crept back into my brain as I started writing it, begging me to continue.)
There is no way for me to anticipate all that my children are going to experience in their lives. I’ve got them under my roof for approximately 18 years. Chances are good that they are going to live 65-75 years after that, NOT under my roof! (Let’s hope and pray, folks.) And I can’t hold their hand at that point anymore. (Because that might look a little strange and their friends might make fun of them.) That’s when I’m going to hang onto the promise that God’s got my children in the palm of His hand and trust the upbringing that God directed through me to them: to call on Him for help and strength.
Now, if you hear some crazed gal yelling out to God tomorrow morning, it’s probably just me trying to get out of bed...
KC
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