The decision has been made. It is time for the Wiens family to return to church. The reasons for the decision are myriad, but near the top of the list is the desire to connect with peers for the kids, Eli in particular. Every relationship our family holds puts Eli as the big brother, a role he was literally born for, but one we don’t want him to get trapped in. Without school outside the home, church is the best place to forge these new relationships. On to church!
Everyone has nerves as we approach the building. We have existing friends who attend, but a new place with lots of enthusiastic new faces and rock-concert music greet the whole family with a force bordering on too much. I can feel the grip of Ellie and Hope tighten as they hold my hands. Dad, are you sure about this? Their hand squeeze and wide-eyed gaze speak louder than words. “Let’s go check out your rooms,” I say. The grips remain tight as we stroll up to the help desk, and I type our information into their electronic childcare system. I print off stickers for all three of the older kids. I feel their fear, but we’ve discussed it already, and decided—everyone will give it a try. This is a family thing, and everyone is going to need to be a little brave to try it out the first day.
Eli is first. I slap a sticker on his chest. He has been the most excited but is reluctant. This is a new experience for him. He needs courage. I get down on his level, look him in the eyes, and tell him I’m proud of him. You can do this.He takes a couple deep breaths, refuses the hand sanitizer they want to give him, but tiptoes his way into the gym full of kids. Eli is off.
Ellie is next, but when we reach her room, she goes stiff and silent. She won’t move. This is Ellie in terror, and Ellie who will hurt something or someone before she gives in. Brie stays to talk to her, and I take Hope to her room. She too is scared, but lacks the gumption to fight me. I point out all the fun toys, the coloring books she loves, and introduce her to three smiling women she will get to spend the next hour-and-a-half with. She acquiesces and sits her little bum at the coloring table.
Now for the problem child. I take a deep breath and return to Ellie, my mind racing. What is right? Upon arrival we were introduced by a friend to the children’s pastor as the “Love and Logic parenting experts.” I am judging myself as the home-school parent of the sheltered kids who can’t socialize with others. I am frustrated by the daughter who knows how to put her foot down. Alright expert, how are you going to handle this one? The one thing I know is I’m too tempted toward anger to parent well in this moment. I am not in control, so I can’t wisely fight this battle. Ellie will come with us to the church service.
Upon entering church, I finally ask God what he thinks about the situation. Clarity rushes to my heart. This is an Andrew problem. I’ve made an executive decision for three kids and tried to handle it the same way with each of them. This is not how my Father parents.
These three kids are each individuals at different spots on their journey. My broad initial decision to have them all go to a group was a false start.
Eli was ready and only needed some courage from his father to be successful. I had tried to provide the same treatment to my girls. Ellie fought me, and Hope shut down. With this realization, I walked out of the service. I found Hope in hysterical tears, head scrunched into the shoulder of an adult helper. She was terrified. Mom and Dad had left her in a foreign place with kind, but foreign, adults. This had never happened before. There was no reason for it to happen now. I checked her out of childcare, apologized to her, (and the traumatized teachers) and we stuck our heads in to spy on Eli. He was having a blast playing basketball with some peers.
Eli’s peer-needs drove us to church, but I tried to blanket provide the same for my daughters as well. It wasn’t what they needed. We have been attending church for over a month. Eli loves the kids, and the girls love dancing with their mommy in the aisles, sitting with their dad, and quietly coloring as they listen to the sermon. They each receive what they need. Andrew also received what he needed: an opportunity to screw up, and through it, to learn a vital lesson about guiding my children in the “path they should go.” I had identified the proper path for Eli, in this case, but didn’t discern its appropriateness for my girls. I humbled myself to apologize. We are beyond it, but I am not beyond the lesson. More and more I recognize the elements of parenting no one can learn in a book and no one can be expert at. It is the parenting which can listen to the heart of each child and receive the heart of a Father who delights in individuality and walks in the wisdom to understand the times. Today as I write is October 24th, 2018, but this day marks a different moment on the life journey of each of my already unique children. To handle today with blanket treatment would be to ensure missing one or all of my kids. The day demands something fresh and personal for each of us.
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