WHAT CHILDREN NEED

Parents, Grandparents and Teachers

We Want to Get This Right

I BECAME A MOTHER at age twenty-seven. I had been teaching for four years by that time. I already had some ideas about parenting. I knew what I liked and what I didn’t like from how I’d been parented. I’d noticed what I liked in other parents. I also knew that parenting is not for wimps. Nurturing, training, teaching, guiding, loving, and helping a child is a lot of work. I was up for the challenge.

Parenting is hard work. Parenting is good work. Parenting is often thankless work. Parenting is often rewarding work.

Children come in all shapes and sizes. Their personalities are all over the map. Talents, intelligence, abilities, interests and so forth make them all unique in their own way. The adults in their lives are given the task of shaping their charges’ little lives, which we all know becomes more challenging as they become teens, then young adults. We want to give them roots with wings, moral strength of character with self confidence.

Mothers need to mother, not smother. The two often get confused. It is both unwise and unbiblical to idolize our children.

My daughter, son-in-law, and eight children are my house guests for a couple of weeks. They live across the country and made a road trip to California to get here. The children’s ages range from one to nine years old. It has been quite the thing. It seems we go from one meal to the next, clean-up, show up, read books, watch old movies, play board games, offer snacks, go on an outing, eat dinner, run around outside, clean-up again.

I must say, it keeps you on your toes.

As a parent, grandparent, former public school teacher and children’s ministry leader, I know more than a little about children. You can know it all, be a hands-on adult figure to a child, and still miss the point. Children know if you like them and love them.  They also know if you have doubts about them or don’t believe in them. Children know if you mean what you say and say what you mean.

Our duty as adults is to be responsible as we encourage right attitudes and develop positive physical, mental, and spiritual health in the children receiving our care. It is up to us to get it right. That is why we should be careful in regard to what the children watch, do, and take in.

I’ve heard it said that the verse, “Train up a child in the way he should go; when he is old he will not depart from it,” is more aptly stated, “Train up a child in his way, according to his bent,” meaning children have their own bents, that adults need to pay attention to this. For example, a parent may wish their child to be an athlete but his/her interest is in a musical venue. This text suggests that we as adults should pay close attention to our children’s hearts, their bent, and then nurture it.

We serve children best by being sensitive to their differences. Some children are crushed by harsh voices and criticism. Others are in need of firm parameters to keep them in check. We need to be mindful of what we do, say, or reprove and what we ignore, excuse, or overlook, what our actions and words imply. Children’s self worth is precarious and can be tenuous when tied to adult approval or disapproval.

Before my daughter’s family arrived, I reminded myself of my duties and influence as a grandparent. I needed a game plan or there would be total overwhelm on my part. I decided to do more than just provide meals, I planned to put into my grandchildren’s lives by treating them with dignity, showing interest in them, by being spontaneous and enthused while caring for their needs, plus drawing lines in the sand with my expectations.

For the times when I am in charge of the whole kit and caboodle, I have streamlined a routine that we follow (for self preservation, too). Each day builds on the day before with little variance except for the outings. The days flow better that way.

Routines and expectations are always your friend when caring for children.

My mental preparation includes the following mindset. I decided how I would direct my own ‘behavior set’ ahead of time, before they arrived. I was slightly nervous so I determined a course of action I would take. It has worked well, so far. Knock on wood!

I am determined to —

  • always be nice but firm, to provide a sense of safety with no disorienting surprises, to maintain a calm voice when directing the children,
  • prepare in advance for any activity, to plan ahead, and to do the dishes every night (!),
  • be proactive in looking for opportunities to teach the gift of wonder, to harness the children’s love of nature,
  • be realistic in my expectations and then reinforce them, to allow the kids to be kids but to disallow any bratty behavior, and to make my corrections clear: You get what you ask for; if you don’t ask for appropriate behavior, then you probably won’t get it,
  • to always be pleasant even when I don’t feel like it, am annoyed or weary, and to make an effort to smile, laugh, show kindness and approval,
  • be present with them, to listen to their talk, to show I like them, to ask questions to demonstrate I’m interested in them, and to be flexible not irritated or impatient: More than anything, my mind game determines the outcome.

Every morning around ten o’clock I read to the two youngest littles. Within a minute or two, all eight children crowd around me on the couch to see the pictures and listen to the story. It’s amazing. My favorite books culled from my teaching days are saved for times like this. I dialogue with the children as I read. They respond openly and honestly. It is a beautiful thing.

Never underestimate the children. Believe in them, believe in all. of. them.

I want to affim them. Guide them. Help them. I want to give them healthy parameters. Help them develop appropriate skills for life. Most of all, I want to love them with healthy love that doesn’t cling but accepts, builds up and interjects wholesomeness.

I can demonstrate I like them by lighting up when I greet them. We can make our face show approval with love that is readable and genuine. This changes it up when issues arise as they always do.

We want to get this right.

MISSING MY SWEET MOTHER

Mother

MY MOTHER passed on one year ago. She’s been in my thoughts a lot lately. She was a gift to us. I see that more clearly now.

Many fine qualities could be used to describe her. She was beautiful, kind, loving, gracious, sweet, hardworking, industrious, loyal, talented, creative, musical, artistic, faithful and the list goes on. Mother married at eighteen, “almost nineteen” she would say. She was mature for her age. The children arrived one right after the other, most of them just barely over a year apart.

Mother managed to cook, sew, garden, can produce, knit and crochet–and those were the days of cloth diapers! She took her faith seriously, and spiritual training was part of our upraising. Mother was a good mama to us. She really was.

Then life changed for her. Life becomes harder as health becomes compromised. Mother had  been suffering from diabetes complications and from a minor stroke, which then necessitated a walker and assistance. She no longer could do life on her own. The pleasures she’d known were no longer enjoyed. When life for her became different, it became different for us as well.

After Mother had a gentle home-going and we said our last goodbye. Next came the busyness of attending to Dad and his world. He became our focus. He had a health event shortly after Mom’s passing. Then therapy and recuperation. I lived with him awhile after he returned home to their ranch home. In December he moved to a retirement community.

Dad talked more about Mom then, saying he missed her, how they had had a good life together, how he’d made the right choice in marrying her. He wasn’t used to life without his partner. Dad wanted photos of her for his room, for his wallet (to show people in his new community), and their photo albums from travels and celebrations.

I didn’t seem to have time to grieve Mom’s passing, though. With Dad moving, there was the house, furnishings, and fixing up to do. It’s taken my siblings and me most of this year to do all that. The blessing in this is that it’s brought my mom closer. Looking at old photos, reading old orchestra programs from Mom’s concerts, organizing, distributing, packing her books into boxes made me see her interests and concerns more clearly. My sister Marilyn and I even took in an orchestra concert together at Mom’s former venue. Nostalgic. Welcome.

Mother’s paintings, oh my. Each of us and our children got two a piece. They seemed most important of all to the grands, as something tangible to remember Grandma by. I came across cards and letters exchanged between Dad and Mom from his time on a navy ship up through recent years, and pictures and cards from her children and grandchildren. They were important to her, tucked away in a dresser drawer for safekeeping.

Mother was wonderful. She loved us with heart and soul. It’s uncanny what I miss. I miss her iced tea, Sunday roast beef dinners, tapioca pudding and homemade ice cream. I miss talking with her about my life and sharing ways I’m active. I attribute my start in writing to Mother. She knew of my interest and wanted me to succeed, and she believed in my message. My books were sent to her relatives with a note from her.

Mom liked to listen to me talk. We chatted at length each visit. She’d also come to my presentations/lessons/classes at my church. She was interested in what I had to say and would comment about it later. I would ask her what she thought about this or that. I appreciated her feedback. I knew she’d be honest with me.

I hope it’s alright to say this. One of the most special times for me was when Mother wrote in a card that she admired me. That was a gift to treasure and cherish. I’m tearing up just thinking about it. I couldn’t quite take it in that Mother had said that about me. I’ve always seen myself as so ordinary in my own estimation. She bestowed on me a timeless blessing that day.

Mother had boxes of fabric, more than we could use. As I let my friends help themselves to Mother’s fabric, patterns, and related items, one of them said she didn’t realize the extent of Mrs. Brumbaugh’s talents, my mom was quiet, unassuming, and reserved. My friends were quite honored to receive the material, and said it would mean more because they had known my mom. The sentiment was beautiful and heartwarming.

Dear Mother, I wish you were here, I love you so. The good times are happy memories now. You’re always in my heart.