A missionary friend told me once of a person she’d spoken with who, as a child in Africa, was slapped every time she asked a question.
I was moved by the person’s insight: “You don’t just stop asking questions,” they’d mused to my friend.
“You stop thinking them.”
I’ve been thinking on this lately–as a parent, as a leader. (All of us are leading someone, kids included.)
It’s so much easier to be a conversation stopper than a conversation starter. To control our kids than launch them. To emphasize talking more than listening and dialogue.
What about being in control?
Don’t get me wrong! Often control is what’s needed with our kids. Clear, consistent boundaries are so necessary, especially in kids’ younger years when they don’t have capacity to think abstractly. In those years, they still need powerful training wheels.
But in our overfunctioning, in the ways we pick up our kids’ socks?
Sometimes we do the opposite of empowering them.
Check out ME, OVERFUNCTIONING: 3 BAD THINGS IT’S TEACHING MY KIDSHousekeeping note: Speaking of being conversation starters–this post is a follow up on last week’s post, a review of How to Talk so Your Kids Will Listen.
Congratulations to the two book-giveaway winners, Amber and Katie–and thanks to all entrants for your warm, encouraging words!
“Do exactly this.”
In fact, I’ve sat beneath two kinds of bosses. The first were those who wanted me to be an extension of their job: Write exactly this. Project manage this, making sure no decisions are made without my approval.
But there are also those who called out potential in me and wouldn’t take the leash I handed them. With the former, I felt fearful and insecure. With the latter, I confess I surprised myself–and my boss in the process. Who knew I had that kind of creativity or leadership (or whatever ability) in me?
As I think about this concept in parenting, I love Axis’ general parenting principle that rather than just censoring our teens’ media, we use it as conversation starters. We help them process Taylor Swift’s lyrics or WandaVision’s message, teaching discernment. And there, we create ownership of their choices.
We teach them to listen to the Holy Spirit.
Sometimes I’m trying to keep my kids from small mistakes. In some decisions I make for my kids–the ways I at times stop conversation–I stunt their ability to problem-solve or become what they could be without my insistent training wheels.
While there are times a leader needs to put her foot down and make a decision? I’ve found great leaders, writers, pastors, and parents aren’t conversation stoppers. They’re conversation starters.
At times a leader needs to put her foot down, make a decision. But I've found great leaders (and parents) don't stop conversations. They start them. Share on X“That’s terrible parenting!”
When I was a kid, one of my sisters was so chronically hand-wringing about making it home for bed, she was fretful at every Wednesday night church. My parents decided to take away her bedtime in third grade.
“That’s terrible parenting!” she informed them.
(Much like my son scorned me recently for asking him to determine his fault in an argument, rather than just telling him what he did wrong. Spoon-feeding him an answer would certainly have been easier…?)
I compare this with a conversation I overheard where a sixth-grader seemed over-dependent–cloying, even–on their parents’ direction on what to pack for a long trip.
As our kids grow to maturity, are we conversation starters, empowering our kids to make wise decisions? Or do we make those decisions for them, tethering them to our control?
(Interestingly, college is occasionally a catalyzing event for anorexia. Studies show parents of anorexics tend to be more controlling or overprotective, while the students tend to demonstrate “excessive dependence on other family members.” I’ve heard it speculated that these students seek to remedy the sudden loss of control by controlling what they eat–and what others think.)
Great leadership–and parenting–can be found in starting dialogue. In not encouraging our kids to be blind sheep, but thoughtful. (Psychologists have worked for decades to comprehend the mass blind obedience of Nazi Germany, exploring obedience to authority, the power of uniforms, going along with a group, and other phenomena that encourage us not to think for ourselves.)
How do I become a conversation starter?
I’m still exploring how to be a conversation starter. Maybe it’s because I’m transitioning to raising teenagers–people I necessarily need to coach rather than control if they’re actually going to leave the house successfully.
Sometimes it means discussion-openers like these. (Tip: State these softly, rather than bringing down the ol’ hammer. …Which could bring you into a battle of the wills, rather than opening up your child’s heart.)
Discussion-openers: A sample
- What do you think about that?
- Before I tell you my opinion, what’s yours?
- What do you think would happen if people did that?
- So what’s good about that idea…and what could the danger be?
- So in what you’ve learned, what does the Bible say about that?
- Are you concerned about (insert your caution)?
- Here’s what I like about your idea. … But what could happen if…?
- Why don’t you come to me with a plan, and we’ll talk about it.
- What do you think you should do?
- I can see how part of that aligns with [insert a Scripture that reinforces your child’s value]. But I also think of verses like [insert a verse that presents your concern]. How do you grapple with truths like that?
- What values are guiding what you want to do? Are there any values you wish you could uphold, but you’re not sure how? For example, I’m wondering how that fits with [being truthful. Being kind. Humility…]
Sometimes allowing my kids to sort through their thoughts–messy and immature and naive as they are–means biting my tongue, prioritizing what’s most important to me (and thinking about how to say it in a way that will make my child feel respected).
As much as I’ve been moving my kids toward “launch” since they were little, I’m still navigating how not to overfunction for my kids, dagnabbit.
Maybe it means trusting a God who loves my kids…even more than I trust my own control.
