A Night of Nostalgia

This past weekend, we celebrated my dad’s fifty-eighth birthday. My sister came up with an idea: the dinner celebration would be just the five of us—Mom, Dad, my sister, my brother, and me. Our husbands would stay home, take care of the kids, and put them to bed.

With their children leaving the nest and beginning lives of their own, my parents have probably become used to the level of activity that takes place during our family get-togethers. Oftentimes, the children are the source of entertainment. Meals take place at home more than in public restaurants (it’s a whole lot easier to handle four very active kids). Setting the table for a meal usually requires counting and then recounting the number of bodies in the room. It’s either multiple conversations take place at the dinner table simultaneously, or single conversations remain brief because of the attention the children regularly need.

Last night, the five of us opted for meeting at a Japanese restaurant near our residences. However, after waiting for fifteen minutes or so after we sat down, neither of the two waitresses in the restaurant served us. They barely looked in our direction when we waved to them (I’ve had problems with this restaurant franchise before). Given that this was our special evening with the family, we were not willing to put up with subpar service, so my mom suggested we get up and leave.

Rather than taking all of our separate cars, my mom decided that all of us should go into my dad’s car and he’d just drop us off at the parking lot to pick up our cars when we were done dinner. Of course, my sister and brother had to joke that the shortest person had to sit in the middle—which was me. So there we three siblings were, jammed in the backseat together, asking my parents, “So where are we going?” Everyone in the car must have been feeling or thinking the same thing—when was the last time the five of us sat in my parents’ car, like our childhood days, waiting for my dad to drive us to the destination, meanwhile the siblings talked and joked—as if we were the same brothers and sisters a decade, even two decades ago?

We ended up going to Moxie’s. The waitress seated us in a corner booth. We looked at our menus. (Whenever the children decide to treat either of the parents to a meal for a special occasion, my mom usually tries to order something “cheap” so that the bill won’t be too high for us. She doesn’t have to—but every time she does it, I’m reminded of how she never stops thinking of us, no matter how old we get.) My sister and I scanned the menu, our indecisiveness probably stemming from the unfamiliar feeling of freedom—wow, we get to eat a meal without worrying about having to feed the kids sitting next to us—what to eat, what to eat?

Now, if I’m talking about family, and how it used to be with the five us, then I have to say—my dad going on for thirty minutes, talking about work, would usually be interrupted by my mom. “Okay… no more talking about work,” she used to say. “This is family time.” But, last night, there was no interruption. Partly because it was his birthday—so all of us yielded to my dad being the focus of the conversation.

Besides jokes, anecdotes, funny stories about the children, and arbitrary sharing—discussions also centered on the spiritual and theological. My dad, as usual, prayed before we ate our meal. The subject of salvation came up—those in our circle whom we were praying for, who were suffering, who were living in darkness, and deeply needed to hear the gospel. My sister began talking about how her eldest daughter is very eager to share about Jesus with the children around her. This is childlike faith, she observed. How far away are we from sharing about our faith like children? With no reservations. With enthusiasm. With love. But I remember we used to be like that, I replied. Back in the primary grades, I used to bring the Bible to school and tell people about Jesus. I remember even sitting in class once and memorizing Bible verses with one of my classmates. That’s how our parents raised us. They were always willing to drive our school friends to church with us on Sunday’s.

For two hours last night, it was refreshing and heartwarming to relive old times with the family again.

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About a month ago, Lee and I watched a DVD video of one of Rev. Charles Price’s sermons, which I believe was entitled “Experiencing the Parenthood of God” (I should have taken notes while I was listening to it!) One of the points he made was the importance of establishing family traditions. Help your children develop good memories of the past so that one day, when they grow up, even if they stumble upon a dark place in their adult life, they will always have with them memories of a good time, good place. A place they can return to. Be comforted by. Feel the goodness of. When your children think of home, “God” should be on their minds.

I think, last night, I was moved to think about the advice that Rev. Charles Price gave. While my family has had its up’s and down’s, of course, like any other family—the good humour, the camaraderie, the spiritual depth and understanding among all of us—made me swell up in warmth, thankfulness, joy, and wonder. I praise my Father in Heaven for creating families, families built on more than just a superficial foundation, but a meaningful one, an eternal one.

I look forward to Lee and I carrying out our own traditions for the family we have started. God willing, I pray that one day Nathaniel will be able to look back on his childhood, and—by the grace of God—feel the profundity of the faith that our family has nurtured.

Praying for Discernment in Parenting

Fourteen-month Nathaniel is really starting to express himself. I’ve done my best to establish some form of communication system with him to minimize the “yelling” and the “whining.” The situation has been improving. Most of the time, he signs “please,” “more,” and “help,” and knows to say “thank you” if I cue him.

But since he still doesn’t know how to talk (and I can’t reason with him), he can become quite frustrated when he’s trying to communicate something to me, and I just don’t get it.

Or when Nathaniel tries to perform a more challenging task on his own—fitting different shaped blocks into their respective holes, building a tower with blocks, trying to take a toy apart and reassemble it—if he doesn’t get it after the second, third, fourth try, he begins to bang on the toy or cry (if I happen to not be around to assist or guide him).

Or when he’s sitting on the high chair and he points to the fridge or the pantry, communicating that he wants a snack to eat, but I can’t give it to him because he has yet to finish his actual healthy meal. He gets upset (though this doesn’t happen often). Sometimes, he’ll purposely drop the food he’s eating on the floor to express his protestation.

For the most part, I tell myself that I can’t let him win the battle. I sit in front of him, for what feels like a very long time, and make him eat his meal. He’s in tears, and I’m exasperated. Or I raise my voice, give him a stern look, and shake my head, “No, no.” Last week, when I had done the latter, he stared back at me with those big, perplexed eyes, and began clapping his hands, as if applauding my performance (I tried not to chuckle). Clearly, he didn’t get what I was trying to do, or maybe he thought if he tried being “cute” I would lose the stern face.

There are times when I am unsure of whether I’m doing the right thing. Sometimes I wonder whether I’m being too strict—is he too young to understand what I expect of him? Other times, I wonder whether I’m being too lenient—maybe he’s old enough to understand the meaning behind his actions.

The husband and I are currently reading Douglas Wilson’s Standing on the Promises: A Handbook for Biblical Childrearing. Though the days of exasperation are few (one thing I’ve learned: don’t let those harder days rob you of your enjoying your child)—when I do feel concerned about my dealings with Nathaniel, I am deeply comforted that Lee and I do not have to stand alone in our parenting. The Bible is full of wisdom on how to parent children. Not only that, the Bible is full of promises for the future of our children if we obey God’s instruction on childrearing.

I feel uplifted and encouraged by Douglas Wilson’s book so far. Not only because he is so scriptural but because he is so firm in what the Bible does say about the raising of our children. Consider the introductory chapter:

“Parents are responsible to maintain a biblical culture in the home through loving discipline, teaching, and prayer, and by screening all the sinful cultivating influences coming from the outside world—whether on television, on the radio, in books, at school, or from friends.

This means that children should view the home as not simply the place where they eat and sleep, but where they are taught and shaped. They should view home as the center of their world. They should see it as their primary culture—and always view the larger culture in the light of what they have learned at home.” (11)

Upon reading this, parents may feel overwhelmed by the burden that seems to be placed on them. But, again, what gives us determination is that we do not do it alone. We have clear instruction from God’s Word. We know that we can hold God to His Word. Consider how Wilson ends the chapter:

“Some may object and say that this is a burden that no fallen parent can bear—who is sufficient for these things? The answer of course is that in ourselves none of us is sufficient. But these promises were given, not to the angels, but to us. The angels could be perfect parents, except they are not parents. The promises of the covenant are given to forgiven sinners. And because they are gospel promises they are ours by grace through faith. Christian parents should anticipate seeing their children grow up knowing the Lord. This should not be seen as an oddity—the oddity should be children who fall away… For covenantally faithful parents, because the promise of Scripture cannot be broken, the Lord’s gracious calling of our children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren is something in which we can rest.” (21)

Throughout the book, Wilson lays out the duties of parents as taught in Scripture, but points out the three basic duties of parents:

1. Personal obedience yourself (Col. 2:21). In a Christian home the children are under the authority of parents who are under authority themselves. Nothing undermines godly parenting more than hypocrisy. When children see that they are expected to be obedient to the parents’ authority while the parents have no such expectation for themselves, the results are regularly disastrous.

2. Intercession for your children (Job 1:5). As the context makes clear, Job was righteous in what he was doing. Not only did Job pray for his children, he did so as their representative. Our modern mentality is that the home is simply a traditional cultural system for organizing roommates. But Job did not pray for his children because he liked them, or because he was close to them. He prayed because he was responsible. He offered sacrifice for their sin.

3. Instruction in God’s standards (Deut. 6:4-9). We must notice that the greatest commandment is given to us in the context of a passage on bringing up our children with a Christian education. Parents are to teach their children the law of God, and they are to do so without ceasing. We see here a life-style of teaching the standards of God. (37-38)

By the grace of God—every day is a new day to do it all over again. I pray that Lee and I endure. That we don’t take shortcuts. That he, and I, and us, in our marriage, be sanctified—so that it may glorify Him, and so that Nathaniel will grow up in this home—this world—seeing God. I pray that Nathaniel will one day unearth the absolute joy that knowing the Creator brings. God, show us mercy when we fail, when we sin. Be patient with us. We are slow at learning. Fill every crevice of this home. Amen.