Quick: What movie is that from?
I’ve been doing some thinking about culture, family culture. I’ve been wondering what our children will remember when they grow up and move away. What is the feeling that they will remember, the smells? What visions will they have of their childhood home(s, since we are a military family, after all)?
I really hope that they remember the smell of cookies baking and the sounds of laughter more than they remember me nagging them to pick up their junk toys and the frustrated look that I am sure I get when they do something wrong.
With all the chaos of the last year, it’s been a bit overwhelming to think that this.is.it. This is their childhood; this is the big time, the time to make memories and laugh and play and have fun. This is what they are going to remember when they are away at college and (hopefully) homesick or when they are married and have their first home or when they have their own children.
It is overwhelming to think that I am teaching them how to manage money, manage a home, cook, clean, and raise children. I’m not teaching them on purpose, but it is happening. It is happening when I am “the good mom” who quotes Mr. Potato Head and hangs on every word that springs from the mouths of my children and only has encouraging things to say, but it is also happening when I frown and put somebody in time out.
I used to find comfort in the fact that my children were too young to remember. Now I am ridiculously frightened by the notion that not only will they remember, they will probably quote me. My words will echo in their minds, and someday my words will pour out of their mouths into the minds of their own children.
I pray often that God would fill in the gaps with His good. I pray this, because I know that my words are not perfect…some days they aren’t even good. I know that no matter how hard I try, I can not ever be the perfect parent that I want to be. I will always be too tired or irratible or short on time…but God isn’t. So I pray that when my children are frustrated with their own offspring that they would not remember my frustration and my furrowed brow but that they would remember the encouraging hand of the Father, always patient, always forgiving.
I’ve missed you. I like the way to put into words my very thoughts.
I am edified. And admonished.
Thank you.
Amen and amen.