Kids & Parenting

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As a Pastor's wife people often assume that my children are sort of hooked up with some kind of genetic spiritual link. Naturally they are predisposed to praying out loud, singing Handel pieces, teaching Sunday School and playing the pipe organ. No, not really. My kids, hopefully like most raised in a Christian home, know their basics. At five my oldest knows all the Pre-K Christian songs and the commonly known bible stories. She also knows all the words to every Barney song and the commonly known princess stories. At five the line between real and pretend is hair thin. Her two year old sister knows that Jesus is the guy with hair on his face. Somehow though she can pick him out of the crowd at the last supper and doesn't mistake Uncle Jeff for the Son of God. I guess that's a great start!

I really thought I was doing everything I could, up to this point, to teach my children how to be good Christians. Being a "PK" means you are at Church and Sunday School every week, go to VBS, attend a Christian preschool, and always pray before meals and at bedtime. Not bad by today's standards. But I had a healthy dose of reality one night when my oldest exited her room, three minutes after I had tucked her in, crying hysterically. After much hyperventilating on her part and much coaxing on my part I finally understood that she was afraid she would have the same bad dream that she had the night before. She begged to sleep with me and my husband. She begged to sleep on the sofa. I knew better. Praise God I had prayed that morning for strength and patience when dealing with my girls! I explained to her that she could have that dream no matter where she slept and that if she slept in another place it could cause other problems for her and everyone else in the house.

I could have left it right there. I could have said, "Now go back to bed and just relax. Think happy thoughts." But God didn't let me do that. He gave me the right advice for her. Advice I'd given thoughtlessly years before when I had no children. When we were married only three years my husband did a year of training in a congregation as their Vicar. At their Sunday School Christmas Program we finally got to sit together during a service and found ourselves seated directly behind the head elder's two teenage sons. We were deep into the Lord's Prayer and the boys were just chatting and giggling away about the girls sitting in front of them. I was enraged. I really lost it. I grabbed the older boy by the back of the shirt and whispered loudly in my most stern and scary voice, "Shut up and pray!" The catch phrase of that year was, "Don't mess with the Vicar's wife."

Now there I was, consoling my sweet child, and God put it back on my brain. "Shut up and pray!" OK GOD! So I did. I made her kneel down next to me on the floor - she didn't want to at first but I insisted. I told her that she didn't have to say anything but she had to fold her hands and close her eyes and pray with me in her head and heart. And so I prayed. Out loud. Not always easy for me to do. I prayed to God to give her peace and if it was His will to spare her of any bad dreams. I prayed for Him to make her brave and help her to remember that He is always with her. She seemed to feel better after we were done. But God wasn't finished with me yet. He wanted more. So I confessed to my little child that I, at 30 years of age, still have bad dreams. I told her that I still have to pray for freedom from scary thoughts. I even cried when I told her and the second the first tear fell from my eyes the last one fell from hers. She was okay. She hugged and kissed me and went back to bed without argument. I was relieved and amazed.

I thought about it later. How she had not wanted to pray and her past history with praying. She's a bright child. She has had several versions of mealtime prayers, "Now I lay me down to sleep..." and the Lord's Prayer memorized since the age of three. She prays them every night and sings a "Thank You God" song too. I've tried to get her to pray in her own words but she's never been interested. I wonder if there is communion with the Holy Spirit or if it's just like reciting the ABC's. I hate that thought but at the same time I comfort myself with "She's just a kid." Now I was really seeing the bigger picture. How often has she heard me pray with my own words? Hardly ever. I was formerly a preschool teacher and always preached to the parents of my students that they are their children's number one role model. "They'll do what you do." I don't know how many times I said that to other mothers. It was quite a revelation. The kind that brings on the guilt, which for moms comes a size too big.

In all I suppose we both learned from the experience. For her the lesson was God is always with you and all you have to do is ask for his help. For me the lesson was that our children don't just do the things we do. They live the life we live. The Faith life. The Christian walk. They're watching us to see if we not only practice what we preach but if we believe it too. It's a little scary, as a parent, to know that we have that much influence on the most important area of our children's lives. It helps to remember that when we're scared or uncertain about it all we need to do is "Shut up and pray."

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