Posted in family, identity, jesus, me, parenting

truly safe? (what we want for our kids: financial security)

My first post in this series, on wanting a great career for our kids, threw up a whole load of complex ideas and thoughts – so much so that I’ve broken them down into three main areas. The last post was on status, the next will be on gender roles – and, right now, I’m looking at financial security.

I think probably many of us are happy to admit we want ‘financial security’ for our children as they fly the nest and become independent – but when we stop and question what our definition of ‘security’ actually is, we might find ourselves becoming unstuck.

For example, we may think of things like: having a job which pays the bills, being able to buy a house, paying into a decent pension scheme or having a savings account. But are these things actually ‘secure’? The financial crash of 2008 is not so far into our history that we should forget that these things can and do go wrong. Financial ‘security’ in this sense can never be 100% secure.

However, when Jesus said “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth” (Matthew 6:19), I’m not sure it was so much a comment on how insecure these treasures are, but on how secure Kingdom treasure is. He goes on to talk about wordly treasures being destroyed by moths and rust, or stolen by thieves. Well, in this age of online banking and increasing numbers of cashless payments, the first two dangers aren’t so relevant, and the third is certainly a lot harder than it was in Biblical times – but the point here is that however secure we make our worldly treasures, however advanced our technology and alarm systems and police presence – still Kingdom treasure is way more secure. Why? Because it lives with God, untouched by any of the threats that could endanger earthly treasure.

So, if not placing our security in finances, then in what? I take “treasures in heaven” to mean a variety of different things, all with the common strand of being an ‘investment’ in our relationship with God. It could be an ongoing prayer relationship, a moment of revelation through Scripture, a word or a prophecy over our lives, a deepening of our walk with God, a powerful worship experience, a fresh idea for enabling God’s blessing to be poured out in a community, the unity of a group of Christians working together for good, the delight of seeing a friend come to Christ for the first time, or draw closer to Christ, the joy of addictions being broken, debts paid off, abusive relationships come to an end, the triumph of good over evil…and I could go on. Any investment in our relationship with God is safe forever – 100% safe, 100% secure.

So onto our children…do we really want them to have ‘financial security’? I certainly want mine to have security, but it seems that this probably doesn’t come from finances. Indeed, it seems that in trying to aspire to the wrong sort of security  for our children, we may actually expose them to more danger. Whilst we try to protect our children from financial failure, we may be opening them up to temptations and distractions which may draw them away from Jesus. Is that what we want for our kids? Or do we want them to know and enjoy a life thrown onto God the Rock, knowing His security and trusting in His provision?

At this point, the financially prudent amongst you will be saying, “Yeah, yeah, that’s all very well – but how does faith pay the bills?” Well, I could tell you about our friend who worked two years for our church unpaid. It was tough – but God sustained him through free accommodation and the occasional financial gift from others. I think this friend would tell you that one of the things God was crafting in him during this time was a simpler, more sacrificial lifestyle, and a greater awareness of the value of material things, having grown up in a fairly affluent home. I could tell you about my friends who raise their child on one less-than-full-time salary – but still make ends meet. Their story is one of rejecting what the world tells them their child ‘needs’. I could tell you about my friends who, due to great generosity throughout their adult life, entered their 70s in a rented property, unable to buy their own home for all they’d given to others. God provided them a fantastic home with low rent, guaranteed till they go to be with Jesus. Their story is that when you seek God’s kingdom first, ‘all these things will be given to you as well’.

Do you see? When Jesus asks us to invest in heavenly treasures, He doesn’t just abandon us to it, but comes good on His promise to provide everything we need. Perhaps the reason we don’t teach this to our children is because we’re not quite sure we believe it ourselves.

I hope you know of stories like this in your own life, or the lives of your friends. If not, perhaps you need to make a few new friends! In any case, as I raise my kids, I know I need to be very careful about what sort of ‘security’ my lifestyle promotes. Here are some ideas to avoid this:

  1. Read the gospels. OK, so I’ve said this before. But there’s no counter-attack to the values of our society than Jesus’ radical lifestyle and claims. As we get to know better the Jesus who had nothing, yet wanted for nothing, and as we read about the topsy-turvy generosity of the Kingdom (a young boy giving his packed lunch for a crowd of thousands, a widow giving her last remaining coins), we can’t help but be transformed into Kingdom-investers.
  2. Practise these values with your kids. Consider carefully your material purchases for them. Kingdom kids will not have everything their friends have. Model this yourself, and nurture it in your children. My kids see me wearing second-hand clothes, and know that there’s no shame in preloved!
  3. Tell, and re-tell, the stories of God’s generosity in your life – to your kids as well as to yourself.
  4. Hang around with others who have faith-filled stories to share. Let your kids see that Jesus is 100% secure, and totally unshakeable. He will not succumb to a financial crash!
  5. Practise generosity. Kids are SO good at this – they just can’t see any reason why they wouldn’t give all their money away to kids who need it! (They don’t have to pay the bills – this probably has something to do with it!) Research charities and missions around the world. Watch the news with your kids, so they can see true suffering. If opportunities arise, take them to places where they will experience those who are suffering, first-hand. I was shaped by such trips in my teens.

Friends, we do this together. I fall into the trap of wanting salaries, savings and pensions as much as the next person. These things are not sinful in themselves – of course they are often the main way God provides for us – but they’re not what we prioritise. I’ll say it again, “Seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well” (Matthew 6:33). We don’t need to worry – He has it all in hand.

Posted in family, identity, me, parenting

what we want for our kids: status

One of the wonderful things about blogging is the buzz of excitement when people really engage with something you’ve written. The first installment of ‘What we want for our kids’, dealing with the concept of ‘career’, attracted a lot of discussion, not least because the example I chose (my daughter aspiring to ‘mummy’) raised several gender questions.

I’ve re-read the post a few times to check it said what I meant – and I’m satisfied that it did. So I’m not about to qualify what I wrote – but the dialogue that ensued made me realise that I needed to cover ‘career’ in more depth. So, instead of racing on to other topics, I’m going to break down ‘career’ into three related blog posts: status, financial security, and gender roles – starting with status.

These are not easy blog posts to write, and I suspect they’re not easy to read, but I feel so strongly that we parents need to have these conversations. Thanks for the comments – please keep them coming!

 

Status 

There is a difference between what we aspire for our children and what their futures will actually look like. Perhaps the difference will not be so great, or perhaps we won’t struggle to adjust our aspirations as their future starts to pan out differently to how we expected. I mentioned here that part of our adoption training asked us incisive questions about what we wanted for our children’s future. Why? Because, after years of experience, social workers know that parents can be massively disappointed if their children don’t achieve what they were hoping. And the same children can experience guilt and/or a sense of failure. And all these feelings can manifest in a wounded parent-child relationship as the child grows into adulthood – or, worst case scenario, a broken relationship.

So it is vitally important that any status aspirations we have for our children are founded on the right principles. For me, and I know many of you, these principles need to be Biblical – but whichever faith or philosophy you get your principles from, they need to be fluid and broad enough to allow our children to find their own way in life, whilst also clinging to the knowledge that things might not turn out that way, and being prepared to prioritise our relationship with our child over any differences of opinion. Love must always win.

The example of Missy aspiring to parenthood was not the whole story. I deliberately left out the other aspirations she has (to be a teacher, to run Londis!) because the point is not “What will she do besides being ‘Mummy’?”, the point is “Am I OK with her status/salary being less than what I’m expecting it to be?”. And I need to be. Why? Because we all know people for whom life has not turned out the way they (or their parents) planned. I know adults who haven’t been able to pursue their first-choice careers because they’ve found themselves caring for a disabled child or partner. I know adults who are plagued by mental and physical ill health, and cannot fulfil the demands of a paid job – even if their gifts and intellect are striking. I know adults who have sacrificed their own careers in order to support the demanding career of a partner – some have taken jobs well below their capability, some have stopped paid work altogether. For the sake of their families, many adults do not do anything that the world sees as impressive or boast-worthy – even if they could have done, given another set of circumstances. If all my daughter did as an adult was be a mummy, perhaps because she encountered ill health, or married someone with a demanding career, or (God forbid) her life was cut short, would I be OK with that?

Here’s my suggestion: not that we avoid aspiring for ‘status’ for our children altogether, but that we consider carefully what ‘status’ we are talking about. The world defines status in terms of prominence, fame, achievement, awards, qualifications, management level, responsibility and so on. But if we call ourselves Christians, we’re subscribing to a totally different idea of ‘status’, because our very aim in life is to allow God to transform us into His likeness, and we see what this is in the person of Jesus Christ, who had the highest status possible – and yet rejected it for the sake of his calling. Paul talks about this in my favourite Bible passage:

“[Jesus], being in very nature God,
    did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage;
rather, he made himself nothing
    by taking the very nature of a servant,
    being made in human likeness.
And being found in appearance as a man,
    he humbled himself
    by becoming obedient to death—
        even death on a cross!” (Philippians 2: 6-8)

Are we prepared for our children to take the ‘very nature of a servant’ as they grow up? Or are we encouraging them, however subtly, to use what God has given them ‘to their own advantage’?

At the dedication services for each of our children, we have answered this question, “Do you dedicate ___ to God, so that even if God were to call them to a life of great sacrifice, you would neither complain nor hold them back but seek only God’s will for their lives?” I’ve previously imagined this ‘great sacrifice’ to mean some exciting and dangerous missionary role overseas, something where my children are esteemed within the Church for their great faith and courage. But that, in itself, is still a type of ‘status’ which is an unhealthy aspiration for my children. Don’t get me wrong, I’d love to see my children do that with their lives! But what if God called them to patiently endure MS, or depression, or recurring cancer? There would be no medals, no accolades, not much ‘on paper’ to show what they’d achieved – and yet, by God’s standards, they would have achieved ‘status’. James 1:12 says:

“Blessed is the one who perseveres under trial because, having stood the test, that person will receive the crown of life that the Lord has promised to those who love him.”

Friends, the choice is there. Will we aspire for our children to receive the crown of status in this life, or the crown of life in the next? I’m praying, for myself and my own children, that the crown of life will be the status we prioritise as we raise them – in our speech, our actions, our encouragements, our career advice. There is nothing better!

Find the next post in the series here.

Posted in identity, me, parenting

am i ok with my daughter aspiring to ‘mummy’? (what we want for our kids: a great career)

img_20170223_211934Every once in a while a familiar article sweeps its way through the press. From whichever angle it’s coming, the premise is that children whose parents ‘don’t work’ are less likely to work when they grow up.

Although I know that the article is mainly referring to a demographic of which I am not part, it still makes me bristle and ask a thousand questions. What is ‘work’? Does work have to be paid, in order to make it worthwhile? Why must we all do paid work? What is the value of parenting? What if the work of a stay-at-home parent is more visible to their children than if they were going out ‘to work’?

Last year my daughter came home from Nursery with a smiling photo of herself holding a chalkboard saying ‘Mummy’. Apparently, the teacher had asked them all what they wanted to be when they were older. I expect I should have felt honoured that my daughter had watched me at work and wanted to replicate. But largely I felt like I’d let her down. Here was a sharp, articulate, opinionated, creative, funny and thoughtful little person, with a huge range of talents. Why was she not aspiring to ‘more’? Later on, I was able to see the full display of children’s photos in the classroom, with all the chosen careers of a bunch of 4 year olds. They ranged from ‘cleaner’ to ‘teacher’ and ‘doctor’, with the odd ‘pirate’, my personal favourite. My daughter’s response, however, was in the minority.

Of course the irony was not lost on me, and within seconds I realised my double standards. Here I was, having made a deliberate decision to break my paid career in order to raise our children myself, never feeling like I was wasting my education, intelligence or talents in doing the demanding job of crafting small people into becoming confident, happy, selfless members of society, shouting about the pros and pros of this lifestyle to anyone who would listen – and yet, for my own daughter, this same decision was apparently going to cause me a lifetime of disappointment.

The truth is, of course, that none of my children could ever be a disappointment to me – but, if I’m totally honest (and this series is about just that), then I would love them to discover exciting and satisfying careers – and motherhood just doesn’t seem to cut it. Money is not my motivation, although it is for more parents than would like to admit it. (My husband, a former student pastor, was always shocked at the number of students from apparently Christian homes whose parents were putting pressure on them to enter well-paid professions.) For me, the career thing is about finding yourself, discovering what you’re good at, and learning how to contribute your gifts to society. I suppose that what it eventually comes down to is my need to know that I’ve passed on valuable talents to my children. They reflect me – in genes, in upbringing, in the experiences I’ve opened up for them. If they can’t do anything brilliant with this cocktail, then I’m frightened for what it says about me.

But if it’s ultimately about gifts and talents, why can’t I reconcile myself with the idea of my daughter (or my sons, for that matter) using their innate abilities to become wonderful parents, crafting the next generation as I’ve taken pride in crafting theirs? Perhaps I’m actually more concerned with status than I’d like to let on.

Can you relate? Do you hope and pray your children find careers which fulfil and satisfy them? Do you long for them to achieve financial prosperity through their hard work? Or status and recognition in their field of expertise? Would you be ever-so-slightly disappointed if ‘all’ they chose to do was a voluntary job, looking after young children or a sick partner? If they chose a low-paid job for a church or charity? If they went overseas and lived by faith?

Let’s try and pull out a few ideas which might help us overcome these unhealthy leanings towards our children’s careers:

  1. Read the gospels and allow yourself to be changed by them. I don’t need to tell you how unconcerned Jesus was with status. Listen, if my son was Jesus I’d be the proudest Mum alive – and yet he had no academic qualifications, no impressive CV, no management role, no salary. And he invested time in others who had little or no status when it came to their jobs. He also lost patience with those who were successful in the world’s eyes. What do we really want for our kids? Success with man or with Jesus? Success in this life or the next?
  2. Admit it’s your problem, not your child’s. This is huge. Say it out loud to God. Admit it, repent, ask for His help going forward.
  3. Confide any fears you have regarding your children’s future to a close Christian friend. Being accountable to one or two others is such a great model, found in Scripture, not least because it removes the blinkers in our own lives. As well as admitting your fears to God, admit them to your closest Christian friend so that they can pray for and with you about these issues too – they probably won’t disappear overnight, so we can do with all the help we can get.
  4. Pray, pray, pray that your children would become knowledgeable of, and confident in, the gifts God has given them as they grow older. Pray that they would end up in jobs which used these gifts. As we pray, God changes us, so I strongly believe that if we pray for what we know we should, then eventually we find ourselves praying for it because it is what we want.
  5. Spend some time with those you know who do ‘alternative’ careers – whether that’s something unpaid, or low-paid; a caring job or administrative role; something which the world does not deem ‘valuable’ enough to assign a salary to. Talk to them, listen to them, hang out with them – how do they see themselves? Why have they chosen this path? Are they any more or less satisfied? Do they crave money, power, responsibility and status? Opening our eyes to the varied ways in which people work will give us broader perspective as our kids grow and we help them navigate their own careers.

Your child is also God’s child. Like you, He wants the best for them. Unlike you, He created them and designed them to be the way they are. If we would only learn to trust Him with our little people then we might discover all sorts of new definitions for ‘great career’.

This is part of a new series called ‘What we want for our kids’. You can find the introduction here and the next post can be found here. Please share it on your social media channels if you’ve found it helpful. Ta!

Posted in identity, york

when the waters recede: who will still show up?

Recently my beautiful city flooded. There are two rivers here in York – the Ouse floods every year, sometimes several times, but, because the city is built for this, with nearby housing designed on the first floor upwards, the damage is limited. This time, the floods were so bad that the flood barrier had to be raised in order to let out some of the Ouse’s water into the Foss. This is the river near us and, whilst we are fortunately high enough above the river not to be affected, several friends had to evacuate their homes, with damage which will take several costly months to repair.

We were away at the time, and could only sympathise from afar via social media. As news of the events unfolded on local Facebook groups, it became apparent that a mammoth volunteering force was springing up – locals from all over the city (and non-locals from all over the country) were jumping to the aid of those they didn’t know: donating cleaning supplies, baby essentials, food and furniture; cooking and delivering hot meals to volunteers, the emergency services and the army; coordinating drop-off points, collections and deliveries. It was, by all accounts, an incredible example of the desire deep inside us to be generous, kind, sacrificial.

One guy posted on Facebook something which stuck with me. The gist was that his Christmas hadn’t turned out the way he’d expected – he’d ended up helping out in the donation centres – but that this had been the highlight of his Christmas, being able to help, and seeing so many others prepared to give of their time, energy, money and possessions.

It wasn’t a surprise to me that he felt more fulfilled helping others than indulging in chocolate or wine or whatever he might have been doing on Christmas Day. We’re designed to live in community, which means that we each have a desire to help those around us. Of all the ways we could spend our time, helping others is something which never disappoints, never leaves us dissatisfied. I’m not sure we will ever reach our full potential if we’re not actively engaged in serving those around us – it’s part of who we were designed to be.

One of the glossier round-robins we received at Christmas left me a little uncomfortable. For a few days, I couldn’t put my finger on what it was – and then the penny dropped: there was no mention of any activity designed to serve someone else’s needs. There were paid jobs, and there were indulgent hobbies – and that was it.

I’m not going to pretend that it is pure altruism which motivates people to give voluntarily of their time and energy, although of course that is a big part of it. Actually, people who spend some of their time volunteering have recognised that something in us lights up when we serve others. We’re made to do it, and when we do it we discover a little more of the people we were designed to be.

Friends, York is in need 24-7, 365 days of the year – and your locality is too. There are people who are addicted to all sorts of things, living right near where you live. Families are breaking down. People are living on the streets, or in carpet-less council flats, with barely enough money to feed their families. Pushing back evil with good is necessary all year round.

However, the good news for stressed-out parents, busy career types, elderly folk with declining energy levels, is that we don’t have to do this in our own strength. We don’t even ‘have’ to do anything. The battle is won, God is victorious – we simply show up and take part on the winning side. The question is: where are you showing up? Are you showing up at a toddler group each week, which could do with a hand welcoming new people or clearing up afterwards? Are you showing up at a school gate, where some of the parents are going through hell and need your listening ear? Are you showing up at a lunch for older folk who really need to know something of God’s hope? Are you showing up at work, where colleagues need to know their work is valued and respected?

Or are you just showing up and going home?

I know I said 2016 was not about resolutions (actually I’ve been a hypocrite and made one – more on that later) BUT perhaps it should be the year for Showing Up – proper eyes-open, ears-alert, hands-ready Showing Up. Who knows where God will take us?

Therefore, I urge you, brothers and sisters, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God—this is your true and proper worship. (Romans 12:1)

Posted in birthdays, celebration, change, family, identity, me, parenting, school

he turned 6: learning to mourn the past but love the future

Last week, my boy turned 6.

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I’m looking back at the last year and, as well as a huge growth spurt evidenced by the birthday-measuring tradition we completed on Birthday Morning, there are so many ways that he has grown and flourished in this last year, his first at school.

In fact, the simple reality that I spent his birthday child-free, celebrating his birthday with a keyboard and a computer screen, drafting this blog post, while he was celebrating it at school with his friends and teachers, eating Minion cakes and getting sung to by other people, shows how much he is growing up. The independence frightens me and delights me. He doesn’t need me constantly – there is so much he can do – nay, prefers to do – by himself, whether that’s choosing what to wear, making a card for someone else, or walking into his classroom of a morning. (The exception to this is Birthday Morning, when un-cool Mummy is bringing cakes, and therefore becomes an acceptable companion into class.)

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But of course there are still so many situations in which he needs our guidance, mentoring, advice and suggestions. His dad and I are still the greatest influences on his life – for how long, I wonder? He needs us to help him learn to read, add up, and understand the world. He needs us to help him cross the road, to fill in forms, take him to the doctor, make his meals. He needs us to introduce him to different creative expressions: new music, art or literature. He needs us to validate his emotions, give him language to understand them, and help him navigate the tricky ups and downs of life.

And this is the definition of parenting, right? You work hard to bring life into the world – and then, once that life has arrived, your job is to gradually encourage their independence, their moving away from you. In other words, you’re making yourself redundant. Of course, you’re never fully redundant – even grown-ups need the love, support, childcare and financial bail-outs that their parents give – but sometimes, looking at my son, I feel the quickness of the years, and the phases which have passed, and I need to remember to parent in the moment.

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This year, Mister has developed his interest in gymnastics (and can now do some pretty clever things on the bars), learnt to write whole stories, continued with his Lego addiction, rediscovered the fun of Playmobil, and (of course) continued his love of football, now attending a Football Club at school. He’s learnt to sing more-or-less in tune, and sung a solo in his school nativity last Christmas. Just as soon as I’d written this post, about how I throw away my kids’ numerous art creations, and a friend had commented “Just be thankful they’re not in 3D yet”, Mister started to bring home 3D creations. I mean – literally the day after that post was published, we started to amass a collection of shoeboxes with a variety of recyclable items stuck to them.

This year, I need to pay tribute to the teachers who have helped shape Mister’s life these past 12 months – for their unfailing enthusiasm, energy, and professionalism – always striving to give Mister (and his classmates) the best, most personalised education experience, within a communal setting. No easy task. Up until now, it was me and my husband whose influence affected Mister’s existence most strongly – now his life is entwined with all sorts of influential strands from his teachers, and we’re so grateful for all they invest in him.

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Character-wise, while Mister has always been fairly placid, increasingly we’re seeing a steely inner determination. Sometimes this manifests in competitiveness (read: he’s a bad loser), sometimes in carrying out his own ideas, asking for little or no help from anyone else. I’m so proud of him when he makes the right choices at school, free from the Parental Stares which would otherwise communicate which path he should take.

We can’t live our children’s lives for them – we can simply teach them what we know, trusting that God will make up the difference, and then sit back and watch the people they become. This year, although I might mourn the hours we now spend apart from each other, I can’t help but watch and love my boy, delighted in the person he is and is becoming.

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Posted in birthdays, celebration, change, identity, jesus, me, parenting

she turned 4: on working out what it means to mother a daughter

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It’s become a tradition on this blog to write a little tribute post to my children around the time of their birthdays. It feels such a big deal, somehow, when they’re growing so fast, to celebrate each year with gratitude and amazement at the people they’re becoming. Perhaps, when they’re 18, I’ll give them a little book of all their blog posts, so they can see what they were like, or how I perceived them, at each age.

(It’s also becoming tradition that these birthday blogs mark the return of blogging after an inevitably silent summer. I’m sorry. What can I say? I tried to write, I drafted a few bits and pieces, but in all honesty we were having non-stop summer fun and loveliness, and there was barely enough time to get to the computer, let alone publish something I was proud of. Sorry.)

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Anyway, the girl TURNED FOUR. You read that right. In the blink of an eye – or so it seems – the scrunched-up, dark-haired, screaming newborn has become a confident, intelligent, creative individual. She’s brilliant company, and she drives me up the wall. She’s eccentric and quirky (and sometimes just WEIRD), yet also sensible, thoughtful and kind. She’s all of these things. And in this last year, when her older brother has been at school, and she and I have spent an awful lot more time together, there have been two big questions on my mind. What kind of mother-daughter relationship do I want to build? And how do I raise her to be a strong, secure, content and self-assured woman of God?

The best mother-daughter relationships I know stem from a genuine interest in each other, and hence a delight in spending time together, which is sustained into adulthood. And it doesn’t start at a particular age – in fact, the older a child gets, the harder it is to ‘begin’ this closeness. So, in my relationship with Missy (not her real name, for blog newcomers!) I need to be genuinely interested in all the things that matter to her. At the moment, playing shops or dolls or dressing up as Elsa may seem pretty superficial, but I know that if I ignore her attempts at building a relationship with me now, she’ll stop sharing her life so openly in the future, and I’ll regret it forever. Recently, I’ve tried to make a conscious effort to be more active in our time together – to put my phone in a different room so I’m free from distractions; to save the housework for later; to follow her ideas for how we spend our days. In short: to send the message, loud and clear, that I am here for her, rooting for her, delighted in her.

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And I’ve noticed so much about her: her attention to the teeniest detail (in particular when it comes to buggies – she’s obsessed with all things doll-related, but especially double buggies!); her contentment to just mooch around the house, have a read, help with (her choice of) jobs; the extent of her fascination with babies; the closeness of her relationship with her brother; her fearlessness; her love of singing and music; her growing independence when it comes to being creative, and making things for others. I love spending time with this crazy girl – and since we only have another year before she abandons me for school, I intend to spend it wisely.

The second question I have no easy answers to. All around me I see women struck down with various forms of low self-esteem and confidence. It manifests itself in all sorts of ways: depression, anxiety, panic attacks, eating disorders, alcoholism, workaholism, consumerism/materialism, unhealthy body image and/or over-dependence on beauty products/regimes. What is it about us girls that we struggle to accept who God made us to be? If I’m honest, it makes me fearful for Missy’s future – how will she cope with growing up female, with womanhood, with resisting the unhelpful pressures all around her?

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The simple answer is that I can’t do much about this. My own parenting, much as it’s usually well-considered and thoughtful, is deeply flawed. My own insecurities peep through regularly, as do the parts of my character I would rather my children never saw. Missy will grow up as much wounded by my sin as by her own. There is no way out.

But there is prayer and there is a God who made her and loves her and wants her to blossom into the person He created her to be, fully rooted in Christ, and able to use her unique giftings for his purposes. So, as we celebrate four years of having our beautiful Missy in our lives, I re-dedicate her to her loving Father, trusting that He will hold her tight, and praying for her relationship with Him to flourish as our mother-daughter relationship has done this year.

Posted in family, identity, me, parenting

expelling two myths of the stay-at-home parent

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The pros and cons of stay-at-home parenting are something that’s never left my mind since I quit work to have kids six years ago, but recently – perhaps prompted by Shared Parental Leave and associated press articles – I’ve been working through two particular lines of thought often expressed by those who would want to see me back in my teaching profession and paying for external childcare.

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Please understand that this is not an argument against those who work/use childcare! We’re all raising kids in different situations, and what’s best for one family won’t be best for the next family. Personally, I don’t think whether parents work outside the home or not makes much difference to the kids – it’s what you do in the time you have together that counts.

No, this definitely isn’t an ‘anti-working-parents’ article – instead, consider it a bit of comeback for those times when the media makes us stay-at-home parents feel just a little less worthy for making this decision. I’d love to hear your comments. 🙂

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1. It’s much healthier for your kids to see you working then staying at home.

The other day someone I don’t know very well said to me “Well, you see, our mum worked so it’s just natural for us to want to work”. Yeah, right. Whilst my slouch of a mum just bummed around feeding me, playing with me, taking me to groups, keeping the house reasonable and running a number of community initiatives – and I’m just following her lazy layabout example.

My kids see me running toddler groups, serving drinks to others, stacking chairs, setting out toys and other activities, washing up, leading songs and stories, scrubbing play dough off the floor, leading discussions and forums. They come with me when I go to the school office for governor business. They’ve shared their home with others as I’ve led Bible studies in our house. Whilst I do try and keep my commitments to evenings and when the youngest is at preschool, they do occasionally see me writing emails and making phone calls. And this is aside from the ‘obvious’ work of making their meals, clearing the kitchen, tidying their rooms and washing their clothes – which they observe on an hourly basis.

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In short – my children are under no impression that I am free from work. In fact, as part of a Facebook meme which did the rounds recently, I asked my son ‘What is Mummy’s work?’ and he said ‘Being a governor’. This is only a small part of my week, but interesting that he recognises this as work. Perhaps kids of stay-at-home parents simply grow up with a broader definition of ‘work’ – that it doesn’t have to be paid, or full-time, or purely devoted to one area. It can be voluntary, fitted around children, in and out of the home. This is healthy, right?

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2. You’ll lose confidence if you take time out of your career to raise your kids.

If you leave paid work to spend all your time with your children within the confines of your own four walls, then yes, I can see how your confidence will drop. But if you instead use the time to make new friends, explore your community, see how you can contribute your skills in new ways, and discover new gifts as well, I think it’s highly unlikely that you’ll experience a confidence drop.

My stay-at-home parent friends run groups for other parents and kids, they fundraise for the NCT, they write blogs and books, they visit prisoners, they connect with local charities to support vulnerable people, they volunteer at their children’s schools, they campaign for things they feel passionately about, they start toy libraries. All these things – and there’ll be plenty more examples in the lives of those you know – increase confidence through building upon existing skills and liaising with a more diverse population than might have been possible in the workplace.

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Make no mistake: as a result of pausing my career I have lost my salary, recent training, the opportunity to acquire new skills and a fair chunk of my pension. It’s fair to say that this former teacher now largely gets her education news through Twitter. But let’s be clear: for all I’ve lost, I haven’t lost my confidence. If I were to go back into the classroom tomorrow, to teach a lesson as opposed to dropping my son off, I think I would be more confident than when I left, six years ago. OK my skill-set would be a little rusty, and the GCSE syllabus would have changed beyond recognition (six years, three governments), but, essentially, my professional toolkit is just brimming with new skills and ideas that the experience of the last six years has developed in me.

What other stay-at-home ‘myths’ do you encounter? Go on, give me some fodder for a future blog post…!

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