"You Don't Want Any of Those"

Earlier this week the kids and I gathered around the dining room table to play the board game Life, which Aimee had borrowed from a friend and had been begging us to play. (Playing games of this sort are something of an adventure with the little boys...but that's another subject altogether!) We got started, and early on in the game, I got married, and soon after, had a baby boy. Yay! :-) But upon seeing this, Drew said matter-of-factly, "Oh, you don't want any of those." I asked him why, and he said, "Every once in awhile you land on squares that tell you to pay a bunch of money for each kid you have - they cost a lot of money!" And I was momentarily stunned, as I listened to my son unconsciously spouting one of the worst lies of which Satan has thoroughly convinced our culture -that "you don't want any of those, because they cost so much money."

We hear this sentiment all the time, usually expressed after the fact, as in, "Well, I guess it's ok that you have that many children...as long as you can afford them." (Thanks for the permission.!) Often complete strangers will say this kind of thing, and sometimes in not too veiled a fashion. But it's even sadder to me this notion is even espoused in Christian circles. We were in a small group once that studied and discussed a Christian parenting series, and I remember the sinking feeling I had when I glanced over one of the chapters and read that good stewardship should determine when a couple begins to have children, and how many they should have. I have trouble with this idea, because I don't see this anywhere in the Bible. "Be fruitful and multiply...but first do the math and make sure you can afford it!" Or, "Children are a heritage from the the Lord...just be sure you only have only the size heritage you can fit in your car."

Of course it's true that kids almost literally eat money. I'm not so sure that the boys wouldn't actually eat it if given the opportunity. With a houseful of children, it's true that the idea of ever having any "extra" money is pretty laughable. It's true that we have no idea how we're going to send five kids to college in the future, and even in the present, each year it's a struggle to let them do extras like sports and...well, anything! Guess how often we go to the movies! In fact, I'll admit here and now that we're not always sure how we're going to clothe them. We don't have a sufficient clothing budget for seven people, and as fall approaches and I look at wrists and ankles poking out of last year's clothes, and the shoes of very active boys literally falling to pieces, I'm not sure how everyone is going to get what they need. And after we do take care of their wardrobes, will Dave and I be hitting the mall for ourselves? Nope. So does this mean that we have more than we should have had? That we were bad stewards of what God gave us? Should we have done better calculations a decade ago and planned for only the number of kids we could keep fed, decently clothed, in sports leagues and music lessons, and eventually into good colleges?

First of all, I think it's a trifle arrogant and short-sighted to assume that you can know enough about your future to know exactly what you'll be able to afford. People with only two children lose jobs. World events and disasters of all kinds have taken families in one circumstance and thrust them into a completely different one. That which was true about life, suddenly wasn't anymore. So here we are in a society that has certain expectations for childhood and the path to successful adulthood, but who knows. College may be a reality in the next decade, and it may be the last thing in the world our children to which our kids can even give a thought. Maybe playing sports, taking lessons of all kinds, and getting a thorough education will have been incredibly important for success...and maybe none of it will have mattered. At the end of the day, the year, the decade...and the end of our lives and theirs, even if everything in the world remains unaltered, will all that have mattered? Will I look at my children and think, "If only I hadn't had 'so and so.' And 'so.' And probably another 'so.' Then the first ones could have had a real life." Or will any of them regret their existence, or begrudge each other existence, because they had to wear hand-me-downs and received too few sports opportunities? I really doubt it.

Second, the bottom line is that we can plan all we like, for things from being able to afford luxuries, all the way down to the essentials of a grocery budget, and the truth is that God provides these things. We are completely reliant on him, and if we think otherwise, we've been deceived. In Matthew 6 He says, "Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life? And why do you worry about clothes? See how the lilies of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own." I certainly think this applies to providing for children, and I see no other indication that God asks us to limit our children in consideration of whether we can afford them for the entirety of their lives. We're not even to be worrying about tomorrow. "Life is more important than food." Children are more important than the sum of what they cost.

Third, children are people, not just "kids." And people in general are not just a number. I absolutely hate those commercials in which people carry around their "number," indicating the amount of money it would take them to retire comfortably. See points 1 and 2. Anyway, in that case, boiling life down to how much it takes to live it until you die is a rather depressing notion. Now, I obviously don't mean that we should never plan, never look ahead. We're supposed to be wise with our money, and being smart about saving is hardly a bad thing. But life is not just about numbers, and certainly the Bible talks about the dangers of money far more than about its benefits. Having a great deal of money is a much greater problem, biblically speaking, than having a great deal of children. And yet no one ever says, "Are you sure you should accept that raise?"

This isn't a pregnancy announcement! I don't know if we'll have any more children (and I certainly understand about times that are better than others to have another child - again, that's another issue, and one for which God has provided). If we don't, it won't be because we're worried about whether or not we can afford them. In answer to Drew's observation (which, of course, was perfectly innocent and only about the game), I would say, "Yes, we DO want some of those!" We're thankful we have a houseful of them. They're what we really can't live without.

In Control...or in Charge?

So it seems that just in case I should start feeling too good about myself as a parent, one (or more) of my kids make sure I am taken down a notch or two. Humility is a good thing.

Today it was Chase. Dave wasn't able to be with me at church this morning, so I was flying solo in navigating everyone through the morning. We got there on time, and the Sunday School hour went well, but then I had to pick Chase up while Drew and Ryan went to Children's Church. Ryan's Sunday School teacher graciously allows Chase to come in with him, even though the Sunday School class officially starts with 1st grade, but he is not allowed in Children's Church, and I can understand that. It's a larger class, with a wider age range, and while Chase would probably do just fine, the leaders have no way of knowing that. Anyway, this is the point in the morning where we usually run into some trouble. Chase becomes angry, and when that happens, he tends to become uncooperative. Somehow I managed to get him downstairs, though, and we hung around in the atrium and had a snack while waiting for the service to start. I asked him if he thought he would like to go in his class - "They're going to be talking about David and Goliath today!", to which he replied, "Well. I've already heard that one." It didn't seem like he was going to be convinced, so I reminded him of our rule, which is that we don't require kids to go into their classes, but if they choose not to, they must sit quietly in the service with us.

I knew this was going to be dicey, though, since I already had Scarlett and knew she wasn't likely to make it past the singing anyway. But in we went, and only seconds later he began talking in a voice he knew was just a hair too loud. Then as the singing went on, he left my side and went to talk to Aimee (who, poor thing, was just along for this crazy ride), and then he went around her, just outside my reach, and perched himself on the back of the pew in front of us. I told him to get down, he initially did, but climbed back up, this time a little farther away from me, and I, recognizing the signs of a quickly accelerating downward spiral, indicated to him that we were going to step out. And he refused to come. So I laid hold of him rather firmly (with one hand, since I still had Scarlett on my hip) and insisted that he follow me. I began moving toward the exit, he began pulling against me, so the end result was that I made my exit from the auditorium literally dragging him behind me.

Well, no, to say that was the end result would not be quite accurate. I swung him up onto a chair in the hallway, and had to dodge a few attempted punches. Nice. I confess I looked up and down the hall hastily to see if anyone was watching this, and thankfully, they weren't. So I managed to get him off the chair and through another set of double doors to a hallway that would be more conducive to...ahem...discussing this issue. I sat him down in the hall. He ran away. I caught him before he got away again. To make a long story slightly less long and tedious, we'll just say that we repeated this a few times, and he even hit his sister in frustration. I kept returning him to the same spot in the hallway, against the wall, and repeated to him, over and over, that I loved him but this wasn't acceptable behavior. We weren't going anywhere, and we weren't playing any games. Eventually I had to hold him in my lap, until the beast within was finally, and inexplicably, soothed, and he became repentant. Without prompting, he hugged and kissed Scarlett and told her he was sorry. He stopped fighting and he became obedient.

But I would be lying if I said this wasn't embarrassing, if I didn't have to fight the temptation to discipline him in a public way so that any observers would know that I wasn't going to take this kind of thing, that it was an aberration, that I was in control. It reminded me, though, of conversations my friends in our playgroup in SC used to have, about the difference between being "in control" as a parent and being "in charge." We used to talk about how the desire to control kids, or at least to appear in control, often causes parents to make parenting choices that are ineffective and sometimes even quite bad. But of course we also talked about how it is important for parents to be in charge. Leadership and limits are important in the family dynamic.

I didn't do everything right in the scene I just described. I'm certainly not touting myself as a parenting expert here. I will say, though, that overcoming the temptation to try to be in control was helpful today. Being "in control" means I get to do whatever I want, and everyone else does what I want no matter what. Being in control in this situation would have meant Chase and Scarlett would have gone to their respective child care rooms, regardless of their feelings. It would have meant that even if they hadn't, everyone would have known that I was the parent and Chase was going to do what I said (right now, mister!). Being in control would mean breaking Chase's will, and probably reducing him to tears. Being in control would mean that I would not be inconvenienced or embarrassed - I would never lose face as a parent.

That, however, would have just been an illusion, because the fact was that I wasn't much in control of things. Chase had me cornered, and he knew it. I was severely limited in how I could handle things, and it was only the fact that I'm still bigger and faster (and stronger, but only by little!) that I managed to get him where I needed him. But I did need to take charge, and I was firm about setting and enforcing the limits when it came to his behavior. Taking charge also meant acknowledging that it was silly to have worn the tallest heels I own to church this morning, when I had to deal with everyone and everything on my own, and that letting Chase have a chocolate doughnut in between services was not a good idea. It meant that I had to let go of worrying about appearances, get down on the floor with him, and hold him until there was both repentance and reconciliation - even if it meant people watching might not have understood. Maybe they thought he I was letting him get away with what had happened. Maybe they would think I wasn't being a very good mother.

Being in control - or having that illusion as a parent - is about appearances. Being in charge is about being accountable as a parent. It's about understanding love (and that love includes limits and consequences), and about cultivating relationships. And today, it also meant knowing when to cry uncle. Sitting there on the floor of the hallway, I realized that I had two tired and hungry kids. I was still wearing those dumb heels which were at that point really beginning to pinch. We had been at church for a couple hours already, and it was time to go, so we got the other kids out a little early and came home for some lunch and quiet time.

Humble pie for dessert.