Facing Fears

Max faced a fear today.  He got a haircut.

At the very mention of a haircut, Max becomes very somber and he adamantly states that he will never get a haircut because it is just too scary.  "Your hair will grow and grow, like Rapunzel," we tell him, which he does not like to hear, at all.  "No! I am not a girl!" he roars. "Then you should get a haircut!" we suggest.

I'm not sure how Max developed this phobia, as it seems pretty irrational, but I try to empathize because I am no stranger to irrational fears.  In fact, I kind of collect them.

When I was young (and even not-so-young), I was terrified of dogs.  I have vivid memories of my mom carrying me from our car and into friends' homes, past their dogs, with my legs hugging her body in an attempt to save myself from any nips or licks that were surely going to kill me.

So, yeah, dogs.  Also, house fires, home invasions, drowning, needles, car accidents, brain aneurysms... oh, and mice.  Oh, and New Years Eve freaks me out. Just to name a few. 

My most recent debilitating irrational fear is that I am going to screw up my kids. 

I am afraid that I am doing this mom-thing all wrong and that they will all grow up and make bad choices and hate me for ruining their lives. 

I take a small bit of comfort in the fact that I am not alone; I recently read that in a survey conducted by Focus on the Family, the most frequent comment from mothers was that they felt like failures. 

I am reading a parenting book called Give Them Grace, by Elyse M. Fitzpatrick and Jessica Thompson, and the chapter that I read this week began by describing in detail the most frightening ride at Disney's California Adventure, Mickey's Fun Wheel.  This massive ferris wheel scared the poo out of me when I took a ride a couple of summers ago.  I even have a picture-

Have any of you been on Mickey's Fun Wheel?  Did you survive? 

Sure, I'm smiling, but inside I was thinking, Wow, so this is how it all ends.  I am going to die on a ferris wheel.  Anyway, the authors use this crazy ride as a metaphor for how it feels to abandon the formula of "good parenting in, good children out" and instead trust in God and in his ability to shape my children as he designed them to be.  Scary. 

I've been believing the "tyrannical misconception that our children's success is entirely up to us."  A good parent does not guarantee a good child.  My eyes were opened to the way that I have been taking on more responsibility as a parent than I need to.  I certainly am not qualified to do God's work.

We are always to do our best, striving to be obedient and to love, nurture, and discipline them.  But we are to do it with faith in the Lord's ability to transform hearts, not in our ability to be consistent or faithful.  Seeking to be faithfully obedient parents is our responsibility; granting faith to our children is his.  Freedom to love and enjoy our children flows out of the knowledge that God saves them in spite of our best efforts, not because of them.... We have far too high a view of our ability to shape our children and far too low a view of God's love and trustworthiness.  (Give Them Grace)

I pray that Joe, Lucy, and Max will grow in their faith and that they will become kind, generous, compassionate, thoughtful people.  And I must not be afraid, thus exercising my own faith. 

I wish it was all as easy as getting a haircut.  I wish that I could go to a salon, select a chair, Want the one that looks like a firetruck?  How about an airplane?  How about the chair that looks like Thomas the Train?  Oh, you just want mama to hold you while you get your haircut? and be cheered on (as well as bribed) while I boldly face my fears.  I'm working on it.

In the mean time, Joe might pass all of his classes, or at least most of them.  And Lucy is wrapping up her year in preschool, and I'm desperately taking in every moment that I get with her, because the moments are passing at a rapid pace.  And Max is looking quite handsome with his fresh haircut, which he proudly says "looks like Joe."