July 2022

How to Raise a Friend

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The National Friendship Day 2022 is on August 7th

My heart aches for moms and daughters who are estranged. How can I help prevent this? What encouragement can I share with young moms so they will enjoy friendships with their children when they’re grown? I decided to ask the experts: three of my closest friends who happen to be my daughters. “What did I do as a parent that paved the way for the close relationships we enjoy today?”

Know the Goal

Anna, my youngest daughter (she’s a new mom), responded first. “When we were adolescents, you told us that you were raising adults, not children.”

Young mom, begin with the end in mind.

Our job is to work ourselves out of a job. We must prepare our offspring to become responsible adults. Grownups should get up and go to work—on their own—understand how to manage money, be good citizens, and someday good parents for our grandchildren.

As moms of infants and toddlers, we spend so much time keeping them close, not letting them out of our sight. It’s easy to forget that, at some point, we need to let them run ahead without us. Hovering too close, like a helicopter, whips a lot of wind. That force either pushes children away or beats them down. Moms, let’s give them the space and lift they need to launch.

 Teach children to do things for themselves. One of my favorite mom moments was a phone call from daughter number two at the end of her first year of college. “Mom, I’m so glad you made me learn to do things for myself! I’ve spent all week helping girls who have no clue how to do anything for themselves.” The college she chose was 3,000 miles from home. Before she left, I walked Jenni through making plane reservations and helped her decide what to bring and how to pack everything. She already knew how to navigate an airport. When we flew together as a family, I’d point out how to read arrival and departure boards. Our job is to teach them to leave.

Anna also said, “You gave us bumpers and a wide lane.” Godly parents set boundaries that leave room for children to fail. Choices have consequences. If we create a narrow rut by always choosing for them, children won’t learn how to choose. They need a wide lane.

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Boundaries serve to keep children from fatal harm, not failure. Let your kid forget their coat or shoes once in a while. I know a mom who made her forgetful, barefoot child use his allowance to buy flip-flops instead of a new toy. Failure is not an enemy; failure is a teacher.

Insulating children from the consequences of their choices disables them. Children need boundaries enforced, and enforcers are rarely popular. Let your kids take a low or failing grade on an exam. Let them forget to do a chore. Instead of nagging, let them feel the sting of laziness as they hit the bumper of working to bring that grade up or lose a privilege. Bumpers keep kids out of the gutters. My friend used to say, “I spank my kids so society doesn’t have to.” Sometimes you have to be the joy-killer to be a good parent. Raising happy children may be the world’s goal, but it’s not the goal of godly parents.

“I hate you!” screamed each of my children more than once. I’d always reply, “I still love you, and you still need to obey.” When my children balked at consequences, I reminded them, “The goal of all discipline is self-discipline. If you don’t want (fill in the blank: time out, a spanking, grounding), then don’t disobey.”

If you want your children to be your friends as adults, quit trying to be their best buddy before they grow up. Parent your children while they’re young, so they can grow into adults who choose to be your friends. Keep in mind that a vital part of this is being present for your children.

Be Present and Available

More important than being popular with your kids is being present. My oldest daughter, Rachel, said, “You were always around and willing to hang out.” You can’t develop a relationship with someone if you don’t spend time with them. Hurry consumes far too much family time. We rush our kids from one activity to another, packing the calendar with events and obligations. As a result of providing opportunities—some for them, some for us—we crowd out room to rest, to just be together.

Doing nothing is essential; God ordained Sabbath.

It refreshes our patience with our children. We can welcome their interruptions and invite them into our work, so they’re learning new skills.

A neighborhood girl was a frequent visitor to our home. One day as she helped me garden, she said, “My mom’s always on the computer. I’m glad you let me come be with you.” Being present for my children made me available to other kids in my neighborhood. Oh, young mamas, please come home if you can. Our communities are falling apart without adult supervision. Your children will grow and go. Many. Meaningful. Moments. It’s the 3M tape that sticks hearts together.

Be Interested in Who They Are

It’s hard to like someone who isn’t interested in you. When I held my first baby, I wondered, “Who is this little person?” I studied each child the Lord entrusted to my care. That pursuit paid off. My middle daughter, Jenni, said, “You took interest and gave constructive criticism to my artistic pursuits.”

I also noticed the first time Jenni counted blocks at six months old. Before she knew the names of the numbers, Jenni knew precisely how many blocks the four-year-old had stolen off her walker tray. She hollered until the thief restored all four blocks. After earning a bachelor’s in accounting, Jenni became a lawyer. Today, she’s a major law firm partner, wheeling and dealing big money. Art provides her with relaxation. We love strolling art museums together.

I also spent hours reading to daughter number one, the bookworm. Today Rachel’s a present homeschool mom providing classical education for her five children. She and I both write. We exchange books and discuss what we’re learning together.

I cheered from the sidelines, encouraging my youngest, Anna, the athlete, to climb higher, run faster, and flip further. The daughter who appreciated my “wide lanes and bumpers” serves as a State Trooper.

Anna entered the academy, meeting the male fitness requirements! We love taking walks when we’re together. Lately, we visit a lot on FaceTime, discussing the challenges of a new baby.

These women are my heroes. I never imposed my dreams on them. I let my daughters be dreamers. Together we discovered who God intended them to be. And I’m very thankful they each choose to be my friend.

My Heros: Rachel, Anna, and Jenni!

Learning ConTENTment

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This isn’t home!

Every follower of Jesus ought to spend at least one night in a tent because tent camping illustrates lessons we too easily forget, like how to be content in all our circumstances.

When Bill and I moved to Iowa after he graduated from seminary, we settled into a daylight basement apartment. I use the term daylight loosely as the only full windows happened to be in the bedrooms, where it’s nice to have darkness. Two narrow window wells allowed little light into our living room. This dwelling challenged my sanctification because I’m a woman who loves living in the light. I’m not too fond of dimly lit rooms. That apartment provoked a complaining spirit in my soul. I was not content until the Lord reminded me of tents.

I enjoyed camping trips as a child, many under a tent. I remember playing card games through rain storms in a tent. The dim flame of a lantern provided just enough light to see the cards and enjoy the smiling faces of my family. The raindrops tapped on the canvas like unseen fingers striking piano keys to serenade us. And when the rain relented, we’d exit our weekend dwelling and return to enjoy God’s great outdoors, refreshed and glistening with His goodness.

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That day in my Iowa dungeon (as I often called it), as I was reading my Bible and praying, the Lord reminded me that tents have no windows, and as a follower of Jesus, this world is not my home.

Dear Sisters, every roof we live under while we are on terra firma is a temporary dwelling, a tent. Understanding the apartment in Iowa was just a temporary dwelling helped me choose contentment. Remembering my happy childhood days surrounded by a canvas draped over poles helped improve my attitude as I traded my dungeon perspective for a tent mentality. But oh, how quickly I would forget.

Two years later, after living in a bright, second-story apartment in Madison, Wisconsin, my husband and I bought our first house. I forgot it was only a tent. I painted and wallpapered and spent countless hours perusing catalogs (much like browsing online)—in reality, covetlogs—dreaming of the day I could afford new furniture and the perfect home décor accessories. Soon a burglar broke in and stole my contentment. His name is Covetousness. Have you met him?

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I had acted like a dim wit trying to turn a tent into a place. I had to confess my sin and be reminded again that I am a pilgrim just passing through. My dream home is Heaven; no store sells furnishings as fine as those in my Father’s house.

I remember Dr. Dobson saying on one of his radio shows that women married for a few years often become discontent with their homes. It’s true. We get bored of the décor, feel finical limits that keep us from the house we really want, and often the messes left by the messy people living in our tent messes with our attitudes. Yet, God expects us to learn contentment no matter what our tent looks like (Philippians 4:11).

After twelve years in Madison, we moved to Oregon and bought our second house. We traded up from three bedrooms to five. The difficult trade-off was losing my huge kitchen in Wisconsin and settling into a tiny galley kitchen in the new house. Apparently, I didn’t settle well. My eighteen-year-old daughter took a summer mission trip to Uganda six years after our move. When she returned, she showed me a picture of a lovely woman named Grace.

“Mom, look at Grace’s kitchen,” it was a simple wood-burning stove in a tiny cement block house. “She cooks for almost a hundred orphans in that kitchen every day. Look at her smile. Mom, please, don’t ever complain about our kitchen again.”

Ouch! Faithful are the wounds of a daughter growing into a loving friend. I needed that tent lesson. I began thanking the Lord for my kitchen, Grace’s example, and a daughter who loved me enough to admonish me when I needed it.

Bill and I now reside in our third tent together. My oldest granddaughter describes it as a palace, but I remind her it’s only a tent. I remind myself and others often it’s all junk until Jesus comes. At sixty-one, I’m still learning new tent lessons. And I promise to share a few more with you as we steep in God’s truth and camp out together (ahh, another joy of camping hot wets in the morning from water boiled over a campfire). Let’s help our hearts learn to be content by humming an old familiar tune (or looking it up on YouTube if it’s new to you),

“This world is not my home. I’m just passing through. My treasures are laid up somewhere beyond the blue. The angels beckon me to Heaven’s open door, and I can’t feel at home in this world anymore!”