8 ways to prepare yourself to say goodbye to your first-time college kid

1. Remind yourself that this is a necessary next step in growing up.

2. Remind yourself to not make them feel responsible for you crying so much.

3. Remind yourself to tell them you love them in the way they understand.

4. Remind yourself that you have been giving advice for the past 18 years and it is too late to cram.

5. Remind yourself that they are about to know everything and you will know nothing, and that the way to survive that is not to argue facts but to love the heart.

6. Remind yourself that life as you know it is ending but life as you don’t know it yet is just beginning–as has happened every day of your life.

7. Remind yourself to drive away.

8. Remind yourself to breathe.

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and here’s what her mom wrote about goodbyes.

chainsaws and mentors

My parents came to visit for a couple days. They come our way once or twice a year to live in our schedules. It was a great visit.

A couple years ago, I was using the family chainsaw to cut down a tree. Halfway through the trunk, it stopped running properly. I borrowed a saw to get the tree down, and rented a saw to cut it in pieces. Our saw ended up in the garage, needing to be looked at “sometime”. My brother-in-law needs the saw. Suddenly, Friday afternoon, it was “sometime.”

Dad and I started taking it apart. Technically, I took it apart. He watched.

He has a hard time with tools these days, the result of a couple strokes. He used to be the one that tore things apart, working with the belief that anything could be fixed. I picked up the mindset, and now I’m the one that picks up the tools.

Here’s the truth, however. We took it apart. For two years, I hadn’t taken the time to start the project. I hadn’t had the confidence that I would be able to figure it out. With dad here, I figured that he would recognize parts, that he might be able to point out possibilities, that together we could fix it.

And we did. After taking off covers and cleaning out crud and sanding the sparkplug and putting it together and trying it and taking it apart and disconnecting the points and finding out that they are impossible to find and putting them back together and letting it dry out and buying a new sparkplug, it started. 3rd pull.

I’ve been thinking a lot about mentors and accountability partners recently. People we ask to hold us accountable are often peers. They often don’t know any more than we do, but they are willing to be touchpoints, to be sounding boards.

They matter.

However, we need mentors as well. Call them teachers, rabbis, disciplers, guides, coaches, parents. They are people who know more than we do, at least about something. They may not touch what we are working on, but they give us someone to ask, “this part? This place? This way?”

I am concerned sometimes that in our desperation for equality and humility and teamwork and esteem for others,  we are unwilling to acknowledge that there are things that we actually do know better than others. This doesn’t make us better, or more worthy, it just means that we can’t be falsely modest.

What do you know better than others? Who looks up to you when they want to learn that? Are you willing to acknowledge that you know it better or do you say, “This? Anyone can do this.” Are you willing to watch people work, to share your knowledge without knowing everything? Are you willing to share the little piece that you know?

Are you willing?

8 ways goes parenting

I write elsewhere on occasion. This week I took my 8 ways series to GNMParents.com with 8 ways parenting is not like real life.

Here’s a sample:

3. In real life what you wear matters most when you are a teen. In parenting what you wear matters most to your teen.
4. In real life sleeping late is a weekly reward. In parenting, sleep is a weekly reward.

For the rest of the list, head over here.

looking back – pass it on

(First published May 31, 2007)

Today Chris was talking about the importance of teaching, of taking what we know and passing it on. His point is affirming and challenging and frustrating to me. At times I hear my response to that point: “I don’t know much. No one needs what I know. I don’t have the time.” In fact, as Nancy and I were walking last night (keeping a purpose set in December), we were talking about our neighbor who has done quite well as an academic author and I said, “I don’t know anything that well.”

However, the more I thought, the more I realized that I better pass on the advice I gave someone recently. This person, who has children and loves them and is loved by them, is having a difficult time praying. Somehow the words aren’t tracking right. Somehow it feels like the intention isn’t quite right or that God must be questioning how the praying is happening or maybe God is saying, “I gave you everything you need, what are you waiting for?” This is a person near the edge.

So I said “Spend the next few days listening to how your children talk to you and your spouse. Listen to what is requested. Listen to the talking for talking sake. Listen to inflection and urgency and desire to be with you and hear you and love you. And then talk to God the same way.”

We get so stuck in formality, in pleasing, in rituals that we forget completely that we are talking to Dad. At least that’s what I read.

I’m praying that it helps this person. And maybe you.

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“Looking Back” is an opportunity to republish posts which have mattered to me. They may matter to you, too.

what i’ve learned in the last 21 years

Okay, you aren’t going to get everything I’ve learned during that time, but I have learned a lot. About God.

Some context.

Today is Andrew’s 21st birthday. He and I celebrated at lunch today (with a free burger and a free ice cream sundae at Red Robin). I told him, as I told the rest of the world over at GNMParents.com today, that when he was born, I wasn’t too sure about having a son.

I’m over that now and am incredibly grateful for Andrew (and Hope and Nancy).

One of the things that being a dad has taught me is about God. I mean, there is this biblical image of Father. And so it is possible that as I have learned about being a dad, I have learned something about how a heavenly father might look at us. (In fact, Jesus does draw this very comparison).

1. I can always love and still have to direct and discipline. I have never not loved Andrew. Never. However, in the middle of that love there have been times that I have said no, times that I have spanked, (one time that I slapped myself to take his punishment on myself (but relax, I never would have slapped him)), times I have not given permission to go where he wanted to go or to do what he wanted to do.

2. A smile from our kids delights my heart. It happened again today. Andrew grinned at me and my heart melted. I knew that he was relaxed and just enjoying something that I had done. I didn’t need some big speech about his undying gratefulness. I would have been offended if he assumed that he needed to do something for me to make up for my action to him. I just want him to have joy in my presence.

3. Different ages have brought different expectations. I haven’t always expected the same things from Andrew. And as he has grown and can understand more, I have trusted him with more knowledge about what I’m doing and planning. Of course, there has also been more responsibility.

4. I love lots of people, but I don’t always answer the phone or the door or my schedule for other people.

5. When Andrew asks me for help, I mean actually needs me and acknowledges that need, I pay attention.

6. When Andrew asks me to help someone else, or help him help someone else, I do my very best to help, and to help him learn how to help.

7.  When Andrew tries to talk to me and is exhausted or hungry or sick, I don’t expect much. I just do what I can to help him feel better.

8. If he needs to make changes in his life so that he can avoid being exhausted or hungry or sick, I remind him of those changes.

Am I done learning? Not at all. It will take me the rest of my life to understand how to live these things out.

But in the meantime, I’ve the smile from this kid to cheer me on.

8 ways to ruin your day.

1. Assume the worst about your friend’s intentions.

2. Wait too long to eat lunch.

3. Holler at your child and then don’t apologize when you feel bad about it.

4. Decide that the future is inevitable…and quit.

5. Watch your favorite be voted off “dancing with the stars” (or actually have a favorite).

6. Worry.

7. Completely ignore the sky…or trees…or stars…or clouds.

8. Ignore the simple pleasures of fresh coffee, hot tea, dark chocolate, hugs, someone who knows how you feel not telling you that they know how you feel, or sleep.

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Others in the 8 ways series:
To be thanked
To increase your stress
To lose your faith
To make yourself angry
To make yourself jealous
To make yourself depressed
To ruin your marriage

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8 ways to destroy a child.

1. Never say “no” (Kids need boundaries)

2. Never say “yes” (Kids need delight)

3. Never say “thanks” (Kids need dignity)

4. Never say “please” (Kids need opportunity)

5. Never say “you’re welcome” (Kids need respect)

6. Never say “God” (Kids need relationship)

7. Never say “I love you” (Kids need love)

8. Always say “but” (Kids need it unconditionally)

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Others in the 8 ways series:

To increase your stress
To lose your faith
To make yourself angry
To make yourself jealous
To make yourself depressed
To ruin your marriage

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waiting

As you may remember, I’m working with Hope on the set for a high school play. Last Friday afternoon I figured out how to solve one construction issue. I brought home some pieces and went this morning to pick up the rest. When I got home about 8:45 am, I took the lumber to the garage, marked my cuts and then stopped.

Andrew was still asleep.

Andrew has class on Mondays at 11:00, which means that he likes to sleep in. (I would like to as well, Monday being my day off, but that’s a different post.) Anything I do with powertools is very audible in his room. So I had a dilemma: let him sleep and make Hope wait, or wake him up and get her work done.

Some dads would say, “Hey, it’s morning.  By 9:00 the day is half gone. Let him wake up.” Some dads would say, “the oldest child has rights. Hope will just have to wait.”

Those of you who have wisdom, however, are already saying, “What time does she need the work done? Can’t you use hand tools? How much cutting needs to be done? Why did you wait til the day it’s needed, anyway, Jon?”

And most of you are right, except for those who assumed I procrastinated. This time, I didn’t. What I ended up doing was waiting until this afternoon to accomplish the task. Andrew slept, Hope was pleased.

Why is this significant?

Because when we pray, we often don’t think that God may have a clearer–and kinder–sense of timing than we do.

I’ve been laying low, technologically speaking, for the last few days. It was part of some fasting, asking for clarity, asking for something now. And I’m not getting an answer now. Or maybe, more accurately, I’m not getting what I would regard as the most helpful answer now. Metaphorically speaking, my part of the set is not getting built now.

But perhaps, I’m not hearing what I want right now because someone else is needing rest. Construction on my project would mean disruption of their (whoever they are) rest. And maybe My part of the set isn’t needing for awhile. I’d like it done so I would know that it’s done…but I don’t get to do the scheduling.

As I juggle the needs of our children, I know better than either what they BOTH need and how those needs can be coordinated. (and, truth in advertising, Nancy knows better than I do).  And if I, in my finiteness, can understand that, then how much more my heavenly Dad knows what I need to know when I need to know it.

In the meantime, I will just keep doing what I know.  Including coming back to my online world.

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