The idea for this blog has been on my mind since the horrible night I completely lost it on my children a couple of years ago.Here's what happened:
We had just moved into a new house and I was trying to unpack and figure out where to put all our stuff. My husband was working late - maybe even a night shift if I remember correctly. The kids were really young - still toddlers. I had tried my best to ignore them all day; bringing order to our new home was the priority. By the time we finished dinner I could tell they were desperate for attention but I was equally desperate to wash up the dishes; it was one less mess to face the next morning. Well, the kids didn't understand it when I asked them to leave me alone. They started to cry and I turned into a monster, right there in the middle of the kitchen. My veins bulged, my neck throbbed, my eyes turned red and I growled at my kids to "just shut up!" I scared them so much they stopped crying (for about a second).
Ironically, it was earlier that year that I'd been talking with some people about producing a resource for parents on how to teach their faith to their children. On paper I was all about making my home into a home for faith, but in reality I felt like such a hypocrite - ignoring my children and screaming at them. I realized that it really didn't matter if I taught my kids how to read the scriptures and how to pray if I wasn't an example of basic human decency to begin with.
Scripture tells us that the "fruit" of the Spirit (read: "proof" of the Spirit) within us is the extent to which we embody love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control (Galatians 5: 22-23). If these virtues flow naturally from our hearts then we know we're in touch with the Spirit. Our homes are only homes to faith to the extent that our bodies are homes to faith. We can't house faith in our home if the Spirit is not at home in our body. When I came to this understanding I realized that it was me who needed to learn how to live out my faith at home, and my children would learn from my example. In fact, it is my children who are my spiritual teachers.
After that horrible night (and many others like it) it dawned on me that my children, by their very nature, are ideally suited to help me cultivate the fruit of the Spirit. From the moment they wake me in the morning, to the moment they are finally asleep at night, oftentimes minute by minute, they present me with opportunities for spiritual growth.
I gave into the "flesh", so to speak, that fateful evening, but what if I'd been more conscious about reaching for the Spirit? That evening I was offered an amazing gift, but I turned it down. My children offered me the gift of spiritual growth, but I was too wrapped up in the dishes and how tired I was and how much I hated all the chaos around me to see this. What if I'd taken a deep breath, got down on the floor and played with the kids for twenty minutes, and then pulled over a couple of chairs and filled the sink with the dirty dishes with some extra bubbles and plastic toys? I would have grown in love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. I would have felt a whole head taller.
So now I'm trying to be conscious of those moments where I am presented with a choice: transcend or regress. I've realized that the best way to teach my faith at home is for my kids to see me reaching for the Spirit in my own life. So, yeah, parenting with "Spirit"...that's what I'm trying to do.
