Parenting Page: "I'm Sorry"

There are a myriad of things I never pictured would be part of my life as a parent: poop… Poop in so many places you never wanted to poop to be; pacing the floors at 3am with a baby who’s been screaming for two hours; the way my belly button sinks into this donut shape flap of wrinkled skin; peeing on the side of the road because I’d rather be arrested for indecent exposure than un-strap all 3 of my kids and corral them in a gas station bathroom; and nursing, changing a diaper, and going to the bathroom all at the same time. How is that for TMI!

There are also a myriad of things I never thought I would say as a parent: “Stop stuffing peas down your shirt”; “Take your brother out of that headlock”; “Who’s poop is this on the floor?”; and “No, you may not try to fit into the dishwasher.”

Of all the many things that come out of my mouth that cause me to think, “I can’t believe I’m saying that,” the hardest thing for me to say continues to be “I’m sorry.”

I have learned through the years at Riverside that we cannot expect to be perfect or treat each other perfectly. I have learned that living the gospel in relationships is being willing to confess when you’ve been wrong and apologize. I have read in parenting books and heard parenting sermons on the incredible value of saying sorry to our children. I tell my children God loves to hear us say sorry. In my head, I get it.

I get the frustration of knowing in your gut your parents are wrong and feeling crazy because they won’t admit it — I’ve lived that life. I get that confessing our failures to our kids teaches them they don’t have to be perfect. I get that if we want them to be free to make mistakes, we have to not hide our mistakes in shame. I get it…in my head.

But the connection between what I get in my head and what I actually live out in my life is often lost. Many times I find myself defending my inappropriate actions to Tyler when I’ve clearly wronged him, shifting the blame for my behavior to him, or continuing in a course of action that I know is wrong because I’d have to admit I’m wrong to stop.

What’s even more telling of what I truly believe in my heart is how I behave after I’ve wronged one of my children. Rather than admit my fault, I try to demonstrate, with gusto, my love for them in other ways. I’ll do what I can to appease my guilt and try to assure them that I’m still a good mom and vow to do better the next time without ever confessing to them or looking to God for forgiveness.

In my head I get the necessity for saying sorry but in my heart I live in fear that each time I mess up, my kids are more likely to be doomed to the life of a serial killer. So, rather than admit I’ve messed up and need God; I pretend I did no wrong or work harder to make up for it. Last week, I felt like God broke into the fear of my heart with a simple, “Remember me?”

“Remember that I am working on behalf of your children. Remember that it’s not up to you how they turn out, entrust them to me. Remember that I am bigger than the wounds you’ve received in your life and bigger than the wounds you will inflict on your children. Remember most of all that I paid for your mistakes on the cross and I am the atonement for your sins. Remember it is my love that covers a multitude of sins. Remember it’s not up to you to make it right, I have already made it right”

God in your mercy, help me remember.

“Have mercy on me, O God, according to your loving kindness; according to the multitude of your tender mercies, blot out my transgressions. Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin” Psalm 51:1-2