Adventures in Parenting

Several weeks ago, I led a children's worship session at our church. The Scripture for the session was God's call of Samuel in 1 Samuel 3. I read the story aloud to them, and then asked several questions:

• Who was the boy in the story?
• Who was the man?
• Who called to the boy?
• What did he say to the boy?

After reading the story through twice, the four- to nine-year-olds had answered the first three, but couldn't answer the fourth question.

To make it a bit easier for them, I re-read the second half of the chapter, in which God speaks to Samuel. Then I asked them again, "What did God say to Samuel?" Blank faces. "Samuel"? several kids offered. I explained that we knew that it was God calling, that He had called to Samuel three times, and that Samuel had said, "Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening."

So I read the part of the chapter in which God gave his message to Samuel again (time #4). And again I asked the question. Again I didn't get an answer.

I opened up the Bible again and read that portion another time (#5 now). Again I probed, "What was the message? What did God tell Samuel?" Finally I started to get some answers! The message was about Eli, and it wasn't good. Eli had allowed his sons to be wicked.

Numerous times (five times, actually) I was tempted to tell them the answer. But my experience as a teacher restrained me, and reminded me: to teach children, to listen, to think and to learn, sometimes one must go very slowly.

Last week Elisabeth and I were out for a walk. She was on her scooter, and I was walking behind her. I called out, "Elisabeth slow down," and she didn't slow down. It was then that I realized something: she didn't hear me. How do I know? Because when she hears me, she obeys.

Parenting is so much easier when obedience is expected. I immediately knew that Elisabeth couldn't hear me because she knows that disobedience is not tolerated. So I had three choices: (1) yell louder [which I hate doing] (2) catch up to her before calling again, or (3) wait and trust her to slow down at the corner. I chose number 3, and she slowed down and waited for me to catch up.

One of the Christmas traditions that I inherited as a child was a orange in my stocking. What is the origin of that tradition? Patricia Polacco provides a delightful narrative in An Orange for Frankie that helps children understand why an orange in winter is such an extraordinary and precious thing.

What is extraordinary now is that an orange in winter is not unusual. In fact, as I write this, I am enjoying my third clementine this morning. I think it would be fair to say that the years from my childhood until now have been marked by the scarcity of scarcity. For a host of reasons, very, very few things were scarce - and therefore few things were special. So, in place of special my generation multiplied quantity, often at the expense of quality.

So as a parent I now ask, "How do I help my children experience things as special?"

Today marked the first day of school for Elisabeth - the first day of home school. Just as I had never envisioned myself being a full-time father before I left teaching to be with Elisabeth, I don't think I ever picked myself as a homeschooler. If it even approaches the joy of being a stay-at-home dad, I don't think I'll be disappointed.

Why have we made this decision? I've come across reactionary calls to "get our children out of government schools" and, like most reactionary rhetoric, don't find them beautiful or compelling. Our decision comes from a positive view of parenting, education and social engagement. At the core of our decision (which I think, at this point, leaves the door open to home, public or private education in the future) are a few fundamental assumptions:

1. Parents are primarily responsible for the nurture and education of their children. (This is why no one takes parents to court who choose to enroll their child in a private school.)
   
2. Parents exert the greatest influence on a child's life by the responsible decisions they make - including how to educate them.
   

So we have deliberately chosen (for this year, at least) to provide that nurture and education in our home, where we can provide a rich, loving, and inviting learning environment. This is, I think, a significant part of the vision of the kingdom of God, "to turn the hearts of the fathers to the children, and the wicked to the wisdom of the just" (Luke 1:17). It is the restoration of the most primary human relationships to reflect the wise and loving design of God to make the family the primary unit of worship, instruction and community.

Ray Van Neste pulled a great statement from an interview with Don Carson about his recent book Memoirs of an Ordinary Pastor:

“I’d be the first to insist that modeling Christian virtues, not least in the home, is of paramount importance. The worst sort of home to be brought up in is the one where spiritual pretensions are high and performance is low; the best sort of home is the one where spiritual pretensions are low and performance is high. That was the kind of home in which I was reared.”

That is a wonderful picture of "the best sort of home."

I cracked open Shepherding a Child's Heart this morning and was reminded of this helpful definition:

"Obedience is the willing submission of one person to the authority of another. It means more than a child doing what he is told. It means doing what he is told -
Without Challenge
Without Excuse
Without Delay (p134)

If you accept challenge, delay or excuses, you are not training in submission. You are, rather, training your children how to manipulate authorities and live on the ragged edge of disobedience." (p145)

I read that definition for the first time about two years ago, and it has shaped my practice of parenting - and I have seen its good fruit. I am learning not to repeat myself (although I notice myself lapsing now and again), and Elisabeth has learned that dispute, excuses and delay are not acceptable.

As a teacher, I desperately wish that my students had grown up with this understanding - and practice - of obedience at home. That alone would have created an environment in which learning could flourish.