Reading Time: 5 minutes

doubt

As part of the premise of this blog, I commit to uncomfortable conversations worth having. And the onus of that falls on me—toward authenticity in the midst of my own doubt and weirdness.

So today, I’m opening the convo with something I regret.

I regret sabotaging my own engagement to my husband. This falls in the regret category because 21 years later, there are (thankfully, so thankfully) few decisions I regret less than marrying my husband.

Every now and then I think, What if I didn’t have you?

But at that time–when most girls are elated in the cotton-candy ecstasy of A-lines and invitations and registries–the decision felt murky.

The “Why” Behind the Doubt

I’ll sketch the outline, if you’re interested…?

It was the age of I Kissed Dating Goodbye—before Western Christianity and the book’s author regretted it—but of which I was a proponent (there it is: regrettably).

So I’d arrived at college with remaining single for God’s sake (…literally) as my default mode. It means I didn’t see pairing up necessarily as a way to honor God, but as something that might well detract from that. Dating implied I was a mere mortal.

And who I would marry carried tremendous weight—not something I necessarily disagree with; few decisions alter one’s life more. Yet I’ll concede nearly all of us at some point wonder, “Did I marry the right person?” 

And at that point, our faith is ultimately in the Cosigner of our marriage—God—not in a spouse being the ideal person.

But the plot thickens. At the time I met my not-yet-husband, I saw myself as going overseas. And he didn’t.

“I don’t have the gift of evangelism,” he reasoned.

Three years post-Africa, he and I now see the “gift of evangelism” as a myth potentially preventing people from looking in a missional direction. But at the time, it just made me wonder if I was selling out.

Two decades later, marrying my husband is one of the top five choices in my life that has sought God’s Kingdom (Matthew 6:33). It’s also easy to recognize I would have been the World’s Worst, Most Insecure and Destructive Missionary had I gone out single. I would have replicated my unseen brokenness.

My marriage, my particular husband, is a place of wholeness-making for me. It’s where I personally am saturated in the Gospel.

You can tell, though, how 21 years ago, doubt was real. (And did I mention I was 19 years old?)

In hindsight, I do regret I couldn’t throw myself fully into the bliss of being engaged. Small arguments with my fiance or someone’s raised eyebrows (let’s be honest–even if I imagined their eyebrows arching) placed a finger on the scale of my doubt.

And I missed out on some joy I can’t get back.

Doubt, and Self-Sabotaging Once Again

This came to mind this past week when an old enemy swept me up:

Fear.

On our first couple of days on a family getaway to a remote cabin, anxiety gathered beneath my ribcage. My kids’ weaknesses seemed on full display—translating fluidly into my own failure, and all that could happen in the future.

The pairings of kids who fight all the time were, in fact, fighting all the time, employing petty, cutting insults and roaring overreactions. My teenagers were acting like (GAH!) teenagers. Whereas I was forming some free time into a bit of a spiritual retreat, my kids were drawn to screens like moths to a flame. (Acting like kids! GAH!)

So much of what I wanted for my kids spiritually and in their character seemed to be circling the drain. (My heart turns melodramatic when in pain. And BTW? Having a book coming out on parenting compounds everything. I’ve joked about retitling it I’ve Got Nothin’.)

And I didn’t anticipate how launching teenagers into the world they would feel so…unfinished, so vulnerable and un-ready. (I almost typed “half-baked.”)

I responded to my doubt with more inputs into my kids’ lives, more “helpful nudging”, more control. This, as it happens, is a bit of a vacation-killer.

My husband cast me more than one Look during a round of Nerts or Never Have I Ever. Is that really a battle we need to pick right now?

Praying about this, I realized fear was doing what our Enemy loves to do: steal, kill, and destroy. Namely, it was robbing me of my gratitude and delight in my kids.

I don’t have many vacation days left with my teenagers. But as to regret: I’d spent at least one nitpicking and driving rather than enjoying them.

Memos on Parenting and Doubt

Observations on keeping fear in check:

I had to walk through doubt. I couldn’t just pretend it wasn’t there.

And the presence of doubt twenty years ago and now does mean I ask myself thoughtful questions.

But there’s a difference between bringing that fear, my whole self, to God—and twisting my zoom lens continually on the fear rather than the God so much…so much…bigger.

I’d rather pray Show me your glory in my kids and this family, Lord–rather than praying for my custom-ordered kids.

My God is not reluctant to give more of himself to me, to my kids.

This afternoon I prayed Ephesians 3:14-19 for them, to the God who loves to do “far more abundantly than all that we ask or think, according to the power at work within us” (v. 20).

Some of my doubt over scarcity–not having what I want for my kids (in them or in my own inadequacy) stems from my own lack of rootedness in God’s love.

Does this mean God promises me faithful kids if I just believe?

Nope. It just means I can trust him to love me deeply and well. Even when I don’t find success on what matters most to me.

Enjoying my kids–and not being anxious–requires a looser schedule.

Recently I’ve watched old home movies of myself with the kids when they were young.

People used to tell me the days were long but the years were short, yada yada–but I remember thinking, That’s cool. But hey, I’m basically running a preschool. If you’re thinking I should enjoy them, mind folding a load of laundry so I can take a shower?

And there in the first days on vacation, I was still running in 5th gear after trying to just get on vacation. But seeing what God’s doing in our kids, choosing thankfulness, and responding with emotional health simply takes capacity. It takes paring down the rest of our lives so we have space to see them; space to stay off autopilot (which for me, is where anxiety heightens.)

Are you in the STRESSED VERSION OF YOUR PARENTING?

 

Functioning out of faith–rather than terror–transforms me as a parent. Twenty years from now, here’s to not regretting these sweet days.

Like this post? You might like