My folks have a sign that says something like “When we got married, we had six theories about raising kids. Now we have six kids and no theories.” I don’t know if they really had six theories but I am told that the way my oldest brother was raised was much different that how I was raised as the baby of the family. I tend to think they refined their process with my older siblings and by the time they got to me I was pretty much the perfect child.
I do know that raising my own children has certainly changed my perspective. I guess a better way to put it would be it has enlightened me to some things I could only know through experience. I shudder when I think about some of the things I put my parents through.
For example, when I was 18 and just out of Boot Camp I decided I wanted to drive from Arizona to Florida, by myself. This was 1986 and for those old enough to remember, cell phones didn’t really come out until the late 90s. So off I went on my little trip without a thought in the world about what kind of horrors go through the mind of a parent when their kid decides to do something like this. I wont even bother with the story of how I told them I was engaged.
Now I look back at how my parents raised me and I realize they were really doing the best they could with what they had. The more I know and understand what I didn’t (or couldn’t know) when I was growing up, the more I realize how hard they tried. I think all parents arepretty much in the same boat. We can read books, listen to CDs, watch Nineteen and Counting, and subscribe to Focus on the Family magazine, but really we are just trying our best to live by a set of principles and teach our kids to do the same, with the operative word there being “trying”. And when we come up short, even with our most valiant efforts, there is grace to fill in the gaps. We need it, our parents need it, and our children need it. Grace is the peanut butter that keeps the bananas from falling off the bread.
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