At war with my children.

My children struggle with transition. Here are a few examples: from bed to breakfast; from home to school; from school back home; from snack time to homework time; from looking at a screen to not; from house to church and back again; from play time to bedtime; from birthday parties...

Transition times become a war zone. When I am properly prepared, I go in strong. Ex: “It is time for bed, and I need you to obey without crying. If you don’t, you will lose a story at reading time”. I have to remain firm with my words and follow through with spoken punishments. If I consciously prepare to shield myself against the bullets and arrows of sadness, hunger, thirst, and other excuses, then I stand strong and win the war.

When I have had a long, hard day and am distracted with my own baggage of daily happenings, over-analizations, or hurt feelings, that is when I let my guard down. Then to my shame, my children “win”.

Parenthood has broken me down. I was a perfect parent before the birth of my first child. The older my children get, the more inadequate I feel.

In a way, things do get easier: I am no longer changing diapers or waking up at regular intervals every night. All of our five point harness car seats have gone to various homes. All three of my precious offspring can feed themselves and help out around the house. It is such a blessing to get to know them as little people emerging with real opinions and prayer lives. I am no longer blankly answering “yes”, “that’s great”, or “really?” over and over again during car commutes with a babbling toddler in the back.

But now that my middle schooler has asked about sex, is longing to watch questionable television shows, and challenges the places where we have placed boundaries in his life, I feel overwhelmed. My sword feels rusty, and the strap on my shield falls off sometimes. I find myself either being more lenient than I should or hollering more than I thought I would.

At the heart of the struggle is understanding what I am truly warring against. I get embarrassed when my children throw fits or get sassy in public. My desires get muddled with the love of others’ good opinion, and when I can’t control my children (I never will), then suddenly, I blame them, and we are at war.

“For we are not fighting against flesh-and-blood enemies, but against evil rulers and authorities of the unseen world, against mighty powers in this dark world, and against evil spirits in the heavenly places.” Ephesians 6:12.

Yes, I am at war with my children, but we are fighting together, on the same side.

I am married to a wonderful man who is a pastor. Sunday mornings can be a struggle.  Don goes to church early and the kids and I go later. Thankfully, we live five minutes from the church. Yet it is amazing how Satan can come and wreak havoc in those precious five minutes. Sometimes I can’t even get down the driveway without arguments starting. When I arrive at church I am a complete basket case. I have learned how to paste a smile on my face and fake my way into church, without revealing the horrors of the morning commute.

         One day God gave me a thought: pray for our five minute car ride. I began praying or asking one of my children to pray when it was time to leave for church. It was amazing to see God begin working and calming us down. There is no prayer too small for God to answer, and let’s face it: much of our lives happens in those small things. They can make us miserable, or happy.

My boys and I: we’re all on the same team. We are all in a battle to keep peace in our car and in our home, to keep the enemy’s temptation at bay.

When my youngest throws a fit, I send him to his room. Sometimes when he calms down and feels sad about his behavior I encourage him to pray and ask God to help him not to throw fits anymore. It’s encouraging to see him get on board with me. In his heart he wants to be a good boy. Even though I know that the war is still going on and that we will face this same struggle again, it does my own heart good to see him fighting with me, praying, asking God for help. Does God hear those four year old prayers? You better believe it!

Let’s dust off our armor. Adjust your shoulder strap that keeps the shield in place. Let’s help our kids get ready. We have a battle to fight, and in the words of high school musical: we’re all in this together.  ;)

We are at war: together.