When I had my first child in my early twenties, I had no idea how my life would change. In an instant, I said farewell to my old way of viewing the world and was left with a whole new perspective on life. My life mattered in a way it had never mattered before and I wanted to make the most of this opportunity to be a parent.
I studied marriage and family relationships in college; particularly relationships between parent and child. I worked with children whose parents had harmed them in every way imaginable. It was one of the hardest things I've ever done. I gained a greater appreciation for my upbringing, and a great sense of sympathy for those who suffer from broken family relationships. In one of my classes, we had to write a book entitled "How to be a Good Parent"--based on our research that semester. WOW...did I think I had all the answers! That professor was cruel!
When I need a good laugh, I read that book!
I had no idea how to be a good parent then and after almost 11 years, I still don't! But what I do know is that I have learned more about myself and about life because I am a parent. I am so grateful to be a mom.
My kids are children of God. Yes, I gave birth to them, feed them, teach them, clothe them, make them do chores and practice their instruments and all the other crumby things parents have to do. But at the end of the day, these children aren't all mine. When I see them as God's children, I see their greatness. Their worth as individuals is greater than I can ever know or understand. Their individuality and personality is present as a newborn. God knows them--inside and out. When I don't understand them or don't have the ability to know how to handle a situation with one of them, God does. And through prayer, I ask for help. I know He gives me the ability to nurture them in the way He would, when I humble myself to understand. When I acknowledge that I NEED help.
Just today my daughter was crying over everything. She clearly didn't feel well, but she was also overwhelmed by life. She didn't want to do anything; her homework, practice her piano or violin, read, make her bed, pick up her backpack off the floor, get her pajamas on, brush her teeth, go to bed...anything I asked her to do resulted in tears. I remained calm and did not react to any of the "noise" that she made after any request...."I hate school"..."I hate brushing my teeth"..."I hate waking up early in the morning". She finally broke down and sobbed. She cried, "I just had a hard day and don't want to do anything!"
As I was hugging her, letting her cry into my stomach, I had a thought come to me with great clarity. Maybe it is common knowledge to most people, but I believe it came in the moment I needed it after praying to know how to help her. It was this: when we want to quit life and everything seems hard, does God let us? Does He take away everything challenging in our lives? Does He give us a few days off when it gets too much? Does He do hard things for us? No, no, no and no. But, He will be there for us, helping every step of the way if we let Him. I knew I needed to follow that perfect pattern and do the same. I left the unpacking, laundry and cleaning I was doing and spent the rest of the evening doing everything with her.
By bedtime, she was herself.
As I said goodnight, I shared with her the thoughts that came to me earlier. She understood and fell asleep a happy, peaceful, very tired girl.
My children know they are God's children. They will find strength in knowing that as they live their lives. When they struggle, and they will struggle, they will know what source to turn to when they need help--big or small. When I struggle as a parent, I know what source to look to for help. I know who my Father is and I believe that He helps me and gives me strength, patience, understanding and abilities beyond my own. When in doubt, I will look to Him and follow His way of parenting. He doesn't coerce, He isn't critical, He isn't manipulative or controlling, He doesn't belittle, He isn't uninvolved, He isn't permissive, and He never removes His outstretched hand toward His children.
Because I am a Mormon, I believe there is a perfect example of a good parent.
He is Father to us all.
Showing posts with label Fathers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Fathers. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Sunday, October 2, 2011
I know I am His Daughter
As a Mormon, I believe that I am literally the offspring (spirit child) of a loving Father in Heaven. A spirit is who we are, inside our bodies, and it is the spirit that makes us alive. God is the Father of my spirit. This God who I pray to, and whole-heartedly rely on for everything I have, is my literal Father. He has a tangible form and image; meaning, he has a body of flesh and bones as all of us do. Before we were born, we lived in heaven with our Father. I don't remember this, none of us do, but I know it is true. Psalm 82:6 says "all of you are children of the Most High." Heavenly Father knows who I am, inside and out, because I am His daughter. I am a child of God.
Because I know I am God's daughter, I know I inherited divine qualities I am striving to uncover and improve. I've never been the most confident kid on the block, but deep down, I've known I am worth more than I can see, or know. I also want to please Him. I look to Him for acceptance, for self-worth and for guidance only a father can give.
When I was a kid, I learned to love baseball. Particularly, the Seattle Mariners. When I met my husband as a sophomore in college, a poster of Ken Griffey, Jr. hung over my bed and he still teases me about that. Growing up, my family regularly went to the Kingdome to catch a game. After a stop at Dick's Burgers, we'd pull up to the enormous concrete edifice, encircled by its long, winding ramps. I can still see and hear the smells of Seattle while walking up that ramp, usually to the highest entrance. I'd feel giddy inside when I walked into the stadium and saw nothing but a vast green field. We arrived early for batting practice. We'd sit in right field (the cheap seats, but where Griffey hit his homeruns) with our little league gloves on. We waited for Griffey, Jay Buhner, Edgar Martinez, Alvin Davis to find our gloves with a swing of their bat. I loved Harold Reynolds, Randy Johnson and Omar Visquel. I held my score card in hand, with my chocolate malt in the other, and kept track of every pitch. After the game, sometimes we'd wait around for an autograph or two. It was pretty exciting.
But why? Why did I love baseball so much? Well, it is a great game, the best game; but I have a theory.
I loved baseball because my dad did.
In fact, I can't think of anything he loved more, other than his family. I played from age 4 (t-ball) up until I tried out for the fastpitch softball team at BYU and made it. I always wanted to make him so proud of me. He was always my biggest fan. When I wasn't playing well, he was always there helping me to get back up and work harder. I'd pitch to him out in the front yard until my arm was too sore. He never doubted that I could be great. I never was great, but because he believed I was, I felt that I could be. When I did well, he was proud. When I stunk, he was still proud. When I struggled, he gently tried to help me correct my form. He encouraged me to work hard, and I worked so hard. When I decided to quit, I never remember feeling like I let him down; like I was a failure. I knew that he didn't love me because I played softball. He loved me because he was my dad.
Heavenly Father doesn't love me because of what I do with my life or what I don't do. He never doubts that I can be great and because He is my Father, I know I can be. He sees my potential and sees past my weaknesses because of my potential. When I struggle, He will gently correct my path. He encourages me to work hard. And I am working harder than I've ever worked at anything before. No, God doesn't love me because of what I do or what I am good at or not good at. He loves me simply because I am His.
Because I am a Mormon, I believe that just as my dad loves me with an unconditional love, so does my Heavenly Father, with an even greater love. I was fortunate to have a living dad while on this earth and how grateful I am for his love. However, each of us have a loving Father in Heaven and how grateful I am for Him.
Each of us is a child of God. Each of us has a loving Father.
Because I know I am God's daughter, I know I inherited divine qualities I am striving to uncover and improve. I've never been the most confident kid on the block, but deep down, I've known I am worth more than I can see, or know. I also want to please Him. I look to Him for acceptance, for self-worth and for guidance only a father can give.
When I was a kid, I learned to love baseball. Particularly, the Seattle Mariners. When I met my husband as a sophomore in college, a poster of Ken Griffey, Jr. hung over my bed and he still teases me about that. Growing up, my family regularly went to the Kingdome to catch a game. After a stop at Dick's Burgers, we'd pull up to the enormous concrete edifice, encircled by its long, winding ramps. I can still see and hear the smells of Seattle while walking up that ramp, usually to the highest entrance. I'd feel giddy inside when I walked into the stadium and saw nothing but a vast green field. We arrived early for batting practice. We'd sit in right field (the cheap seats, but where Griffey hit his homeruns) with our little league gloves on. We waited for Griffey, Jay Buhner, Edgar Martinez, Alvin Davis to find our gloves with a swing of their bat. I loved Harold Reynolds, Randy Johnson and Omar Visquel. I held my score card in hand, with my chocolate malt in the other, and kept track of every pitch. After the game, sometimes we'd wait around for an autograph or two. It was pretty exciting.
But why? Why did I love baseball so much? Well, it is a great game, the best game; but I have a theory.
I loved baseball because my dad did.
In fact, I can't think of anything he loved more, other than his family. I played from age 4 (t-ball) up until I tried out for the fastpitch softball team at BYU and made it. I always wanted to make him so proud of me. He was always my biggest fan. When I wasn't playing well, he was always there helping me to get back up and work harder. I'd pitch to him out in the front yard until my arm was too sore. He never doubted that I could be great. I never was great, but because he believed I was, I felt that I could be. When I did well, he was proud. When I stunk, he was still proud. When I struggled, he gently tried to help me correct my form. He encouraged me to work hard, and I worked so hard. When I decided to quit, I never remember feeling like I let him down; like I was a failure. I knew that he didn't love me because I played softball. He loved me because he was my dad.
Heavenly Father doesn't love me because of what I do with my life or what I don't do. He never doubts that I can be great and because He is my Father, I know I can be. He sees my potential and sees past my weaknesses because of my potential. When I struggle, He will gently correct my path. He encourages me to work hard. And I am working harder than I've ever worked at anything before. No, God doesn't love me because of what I do or what I am good at or not good at. He loves me simply because I am His.
Because I am a Mormon, I believe that just as my dad loves me with an unconditional love, so does my Heavenly Father, with an even greater love. I was fortunate to have a living dad while on this earth and how grateful I am for his love. However, each of us have a loving Father in Heaven and how grateful I am for Him.
Each of us is a child of God. Each of us has a loving Father.
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