I
don’t know how to do this.
I
don’t know how to parent a teenager. I don’t know how to move from helicopter
mom to teaching my daughter how to fly. I don’t know how to navigate this space
in between child and adult.
Those were the words left on my computer screen after I got
the call from my husband that I needed to take Zach to football practice, and
the message from our carpool that I also needed to pick Tali up from cheer. I
have been thinking and praying about this topic for weeks, how to write about
this place I find myself in with my daughter… this space in between. As I sat
down to write yesterday morning, those were the only words I had. I don’t know how to navigate this. I don’t
know what I’m doing. I don’t know how to transition this relationship in a
healthy way.
I typed them, and then went about my day, praying for a way
to articulate all of the wrestling in my spirit. Parenting is hard. But now I'm seeing that parenting a teen is it's own special variety of hard. I'm not good at relinquishing control. I'm not good at watching people I love make less than ideal decisions. As I closed down programs in my computer
before climbing in my big, silver taxi and hitting the road [again], they
flashed across the screen at me.
I don’t know how to do
this.
I don’t know how to parent with space. I don’t know how to
give Tali the room she needs to stretch and grow and fall down and pick herself
back up. Especially when I see so much of myself in her. When I see the me that had everything in
front of her and made such poor choices. When I see the me that is afraid to
invest emotionally. When I see the me that can’t open up to people. And I want to tell her the easy path. I want
to pour into her the lessons I have learned and have her “get it”- ALL. Without
the harsh learning curve I had.
When they are little, when we see them running faster than
their little legs are equipped to keep up with we can stop them. We can yell
ahead “Don’t run!!! You’ll skin your knees!!! Slow down!” We can keep them from
so much hurt. But even when they are little… sometimes they still run.
Sometimes the warning comes too late. Sometimes the knees still get skinned.
And here I am with this teenager… and I want to yell “DON’T
RUN! Slow down!”… but the truth is, there are going to be bruises and wounds
along this path. And not only can I not
keep her from all of them, but it wouldn’t be in her best interest if I did.
Sometimes we learn our best lessons from the skinned knees.
Sometimes that is the only way we figure out how fast our
feet can carry us without toppling over.
The thing is, when it’s a six year old’s knee, we can kiss
it and put a Band-Aid on it, and offer up a popsicle (because they make
EVERYTHING better)… but when it’s a heart. Oh, it’s so much more difficult. And
the mama bear desire to protect and guard is strong…
And that’s where I found myself standing in the shower,
tears running down my face asking God… how
far do I let her go? How closely do I guard? Oh Lord, what decisions do I let her make, and
which ones do I make the call?
And He answered… how
far will I let you go, Becky?
And I know, He will let me go as far as necessary to learn
to lean. He will guide and direct and steer with the power of His Holy Spirit,
but in the end, the choice is mine.
The path is laid out before me, His way and Mine… and I get to choose.
And so it is in this space in between with my teen… I can
guide and direct, I can lay out the options and explain the consequences… but
in the end she will decide. She will choose to be home by curfew or not. She will
choose the way of honesty or not. She will save sacred spaces in her life or
not.
I recall my mom warning me when Tali was two years old and
throwing a temper tantrum… “what seems cute and harmless at two isn’t so cute
and harmless at thirteen, you are setting the stage now”. She was so right. Oh, moms of littles,
imagine that temper tantrum or talking back or ignoring the rules on a teenager
and use that as a gauge as to how seriously you will take it now. How far will you let them go, now? Because
when they are teens those are the tools they will have in their tool belt to
make their own decisions. Be mindful of
the pace you set for them now, because tomorrow, they will need to know how
fast they can run.
My job as a parent is far from over, but it is definitely changing.
My littles are now 11 and 13, and just aren’t so little anymore. It’s a season
of transition and I don’t know exactly what it is supposed to look like or how
to know if we are doing it well. I look back and hope and pray that we have
laid a firm foundation. I pray that we have the courage to let our children
fly, even when the nest seems so safe. In the end, it's not even about her heeding my advice. But learning to hear the Father's voice. Following His call on her life. Letting Him pick her up when she stumbles.
I know that I can warn (and I will), I can call out “don’t
run!”… but in the end, these years are about Tali learning how to set the pace.
Learning how fast she can run without toppling over. Learning who she is and
setting her sights on who she wants to be.
Learning how to navigate disappointment and words that hurt and
relationships that are complicated and friends who aren’t.
And maybe, the best thing I can do is be there with a hug
and a popsicle when the knees get skinned a little.
But it’s hard. It’s hard to bite my tongue when I want to
offer advice. It’s hard to navigate a space where words are easier spoken via
text message than face to face and to know if that’s okay. It’s hard to see so
much of me. It’s hard not to guard and
protect against every hurt. It’s hard
not to micromanage. It’s hard to honor the space she needs to grow.
And so that is where I was yesterday, as I typed those words
on my computer screen.
I don’t know how to do
this.
I don’t know how to navigate this thing. I don’t know how to
parent a teenager because I’ve never done it before… and it’s too important to
mess up. I feel inadequate and overprotective and scared and excited and sad
all at the same time. This space in between… it’s hard.
Those words… I don’t
know how to do this… danced in my head as we pulled out of the high school
parking lot and the tears began to trickle down Tali’s cheeks. She poured out
her hurt and her frustration and her disappointment, and I thanked God that she
trusts me with these things, and asked Him to please help me have words that
would encourage and build up and teach and challenge…
We talked. I told her that it did suck. I told her that it
was okay to be upset and frustrated. I told her it was not okay to give up. I
told her to remember she is good enough, and not to let anything change her
smile.
And that’s when I opened the envelope with six one dollar
bills in it. Money that someone had just given me unexpectedly. Money that I
didn’t even realize I was “owed”.
Looking at the money I had a crazy idea…
“Steve and Kinzi are behind us… what do you think they would
do if we threw this money at them?”
“What?!” Tali asked… and a smile began to spread across her
face… “we could throw it out the sunroof!!”… so I gave her three dollars
(because really, throwing money out the window IS crazy, and Dave Ramsey would
NOT approve, and so we were only gonna toss half of it because apparently that
makes it –OK–). And one at a time she tossed them out the sun roof.
|
Tali's Facebook Status last night. #worthit |
Turns out, money is quite dramatic flying out a sunroof at
60mph.
And it was hilarious.
We watched the shock on our friends’ faces as the money flew
back toward them….
And we laughed til the tears changed.
Her friend called her, and we giggled even harder. She also
threw one more dollar out just for good measure.
It wasn’t a Popsicle. It wasn’t a Band-Aid. But it was the
best $4 I have ever spent.
When I got home, I opened my computer and I saw those words
again…
I don’t know how to do
this.
And the truth is, I don't. But in that moment I heard my Father speak loud and clear... but I do.
Father, help us lean on you as we parent. Help us lean on you as we navigate new seasons. Help us lean on you to guide and direct our yes's and our no's. Be the Light to this path, Jesus. In Your Name we pray, AMEN.