Our pastor said, during his sermon today, that you should "never trust a person who doesn't walk with a limp." He went on to explain that times of crisis and struggle can lead people to closely examine themselves and their God in ways that times of ease and plenty cannot. The result of this weakness and suffering is a limp, perhaps not a physical one, but a limp of the spirit -- an obvious sign of suffering and persevering.
It's the whole theory of breaking bones... Where the bone breaks is often the place where it heals even stronger than the rest of the bone. This theory is true for us as well; we are often driven to our knees before we are able to rise stronger, wiser, and better for having suffered and struggled.
As thoughts will do, this thought tumbled into a mass of other thoughts, one of which reminded me of so many parents I know. On any given day, I will deal with all kinds of parents... Parents who cannot stand to be separated from their kids, even for just a 7-hour school day; parents who forget to pick up their kids on Wednesday nights; moms who worry about abuse and neglect to the point of distraction, dragging the rest of us along into their paranoia; and parents who don't even seem to take notice of their kids.
Parents come in all shapes and sizes, and, yet, for the most part, it seems that parents -- good and bad, but maybe all moms especially -- don't want their kids to suffer, to struggle. They hope that their children never get their hearts broken, their dreams dashed, or their beliefs challenged. They pray that life, for their kids, is easy.
I have to admit that I've been that mom, too. I've made teacher requests; visited classrooms; presented myself to teachers, principals and counselors on a regular basis; and talked to other moms about what are really the situations -- and symptoms -- of childhood. I have worked tirelessly to eliminate struggle and heartbreak from my boys' lives. I have. I have totally been THAT mom.
I see all the time kids filled to their hairlines with entitlement. They believe they should be handed things on that proverbial silver platter -- things as easy as snacks and parts in a church musical to things as hard as popularity and eternal life. Kids, for the most part, believe that these things are as rightful to them as air.
It seems that parents like me -- THOSE parents -- may have created this sense of "It's mine!" in our kids. We have taken away their struggle, letting them believe that everything is theirs for the asking: All teachers are always great; childhood challenges don't exist; and problems with the principal are easily fixed. And then these kids grow up... They become adults. And they keep that idea of "It's mine!" They face troubles in the workforce, in relationships, and in the world at large.
So today, I began wondering if it's time for my boys to begin experiencing struggle and suffering of their own -- not front-row neglect or lack, but enough of a taste of what makes our world turn to prepare them for the rest of their lives. The good news is that I can do this now and be a safe, supportive place for them to fall when the world does indeed prove to be unfair. I can do that now so that they can face adulthood as men who are multi-dimensional, caring, delightful, empathetic, trustworthy, and just nice to be around.
Before today, I already had this notion in mind; I know I did, but I also know that, somehow today, explaining it became obvious. It became clear because I want my boys to be, well, interesting because of what they have suffered and struggled through. I want them to know deep in their bones that they can expect life to be unfair but that, above all else, they will be okay anyway.
So, this week, my mom prayer will be, "Dear God, please help my sweet boys learn to limp. Amen."
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