Specks, Planks, Cell Phones and Teenage Sons...or...Lessons Learned From my Child

What is it they say about parenting?  The toughest job you’ll ever love?  Wait, no… that’s the army right?  Actually, maybe there is a little similarity between the two.  Anyhow, back to the topic.

                God has blessed me immeasurably with 3 sons.  I count them as the greatest gifts He’s shared with me, second to my salvation.  I’m still amazed at the fact that He chose me to be their mother.  I’m not going to kid you.  Being a single mother to rambunctious boys is not without its challenges.  I am learning to take things with a grain of salt and not major in the minors so much.  The question “Is this the hill you want to die on?” is always in my mind in picking my battles.  For example, when I discovered a cup full of frozen ladybugs in my freezer, I didn’t freak out.  The 2 youngest were apparently experimenting in cryogenics.  Also, when the strange smell was coming from their bathroom, I didn’t go ballistic when I found a plastic cup of moldy squished grapes in the back of the linen closet.  The middle child explained that he was trying to make wine. (No clue where that idea came from)  Additionally, the night that the two youngest decided to dump an entire bottle of shampoo into the bathtub and then turn on the jets, I didn’t scream once when the mountain of bubbles was taller than me and I had to wade through the suds to find them.  Even now, I can laugh at their antics.  I absolutely adore my sons.  Every day with them is a blessing and definitely a learning experience.

                Lately, I’m realizing that God also teaches me a lot about my relationship with Him through my relationship with my boys.  Of course, I’m too grown up to make huge messes with soap or freeze ladybugs but there are plenty of other things I do that could stand some correction.  I realized one area of this when dealing with the firstborn. 

                (Let me start my story with a little bit of info on the front end.  I’m not sure of your area of experience with teenagers, but you know all those warnings that well-meaning people give you?  Heed them.  Truly I think something happens to their brains at about 12 and a half years of age.  I also think that God makes them so cute and cuddly as babies so we’ll remember that when they turn into teenagers.  It’s that stored up love that keeps you going some days.)

                When Firstborn was graduating from the 5^th grade, I decided it was time to get him a cell phone.  It made sense.  He’d be going to middle school the next year and I would like for him to have a phone to call me in case he missed his ride home or if his baseball practice ended early.  Also, it would be useful for us to stay in contact when he and the brothers were gone to their dad’s house on the weekends.   Truly, I viewed it as a safety precaution. 

With that cell phone, came a series of rules.  I’ll just state the first and most important one… if I was trying to get in touch with him, he’d better answer or reply to my text.  After we agreed to the rules, he also was made aware of the consequences of breaking the rules- no phone.   The first six months of cell phone ownership went rather smoothly.   The rules were followed.  He even offered to let me see his texts and let me know before he deleted anything.  His attitude was very gracious.  During the middle of the sixth grade things began to change.  I think it started with a girl.  (Doesn’t it always?)  I noticed Firstborn was getting texts all the time.  The phone was constantly chirping.  The “no texting during dinner rule” was instated.  That rule was followed by the “cell phone turned off at 10:00 rule.”  The addition of rules was accompanied by subtle eye-rolling. (That drives me crazy.  Again… deep breath.  Is this the hill I want to die on?)  All in all, the rest of the cell phone situation went along well for the most part.

However, one weekend the boys were at their dad’s.  (They go every other weekend.  I’m not one of those mothers who need to talk to them every day they are gone.  I try to respect their time with him and not intrude.   I do however text them good night and tell them that I love them.)  And on this weekend in particular when I texted my typical “good night I love you, tell the brothers” text, I did not receive a reply.  So I texted their dad to see if there was a problem and he had Firstborn reply.  The next weekend away, the same thing happened.  I didn’t text their dad this time.  I was feeling very angry and a little hurt.  I mean seriously, I gave this kid life.  I bought his cell phone.  Who does he think he is?  The pity party was well celebrated that night.  I worked myself into quite a snotty mess.

When the boys got home that Sunday night, I decided not to address it.  They were happy to be home and tired so we just did our Sunday Night Snuggle on my bed watching TV.  Well, the next morning while Firstborn was in the shower I decided to peruse his texts.  I noticed that he had over a hundred texts from his Sweet Patootie and that he’d replied to all of her texts during the same time I’d texted him.  Talk about seeing red!  I was seething with anger.  I started mentally rehearsing my attack.  I had all the words just ready to spew like venom from my mouth when he got out of the shower.  They were along the lines of this: “Seriously, who do you think you are?” “I’ve sacrificed everything for you and this is how you repay me?” “Is Sweet Patootie more important than your mother?” “I brought you into this world and I can take you out.” “I gave you this means of communication and you don’t even communicate with me?”  I’m sure you get the picture.  And this is where God stepped in…

I heard Him through His Holy Spirit addressing the questions to me.  “Who do you think you are?” “Who do you think I am?”  “I died for you.”  “Is anything in your life more important than Me?”  “I gave you the right to be my daughter.  I gave you life.  How often do you talk to Me?”  What an incredibly humbling experience.  I am so thankful that He loves me enough to teach me about parenting from His perspective.  Needless to say, my well-planned verbal attack didn’t go as I’d planned.  I learned instead to share some of the grace I’d been given.  Was the problem addressed?  Yes, but with an attitude of grace and mercy.  Honestly, it was better received than my verbal venom would have been.

I was gently reminded of a verse found in Matthew 7 “…how can you say…, ‘Let me remove the speck from your eye’; and look, a plank is in your own eye?”  I’ve read that passage numerous times but never has it hit home quite like it did when dealing with my own child.  Without fail, I have only applied that verse to adults.  Incorrectly, I’ve always assumed that my children were exempt from that.  After all, aren’t I to mold them into responsible human beings?  Isn’t my way how it should be done?  Instead, how much more authentic will my parenting be if I am honest and approach them with the same genuine love my heavenly Father gives to me?  I am so thankful to the Lord for teaching me tenderly, and in enough time to be able to glean from His teaching and grace to use it in my own parenting.