Well, aqui estamos in Nicaragua! The kids and I touched down in Managua to join my husband over a week ago, and after only four muggy hours in immigration and customs…have really enjoyed this nation’s stunning beauty and engaging people.
It’s rainy season here, which means that in marked contrast to Colorado’s high mountain desert, we’ve been in a downpour since before I woke this morning. (Pleasant for us; dangerous for those caught in flash floods.)
And in addition to a yard covered with what function as houseplants at home, we’ve watched a new pithaya (dragonfruit) blossom open three nights this week. It’s also mango and avocado season, which means both of those can be found about the size of both of my fists.
Did I mention I love this place?
Yes, I sweat my way through the way, as an accessory to my ever-expanding curly/fuzzy hair. And attempting to express myself in Spanish makes me feel like my IQ drops 27 points. And driving elicits my stress-sweat.
But here’s my son overlooking one of the crater lakes within the city, visible from a remarkable hole-in-the-wall outdoor pizza restaurant. You can see Lake Managua in the background.
We also hiked through a coffee farm yesterday that can only be described in words like striking and lush.
But those are only a small part of the reason we’re here. Before the coffee farm, my daughter and I checked out Tesoros de Dios, where she’s hoping to volunteer. Tesoros educates and provides therapy for nearly 200 disabled kids in this nation, where resources are scarce. (Consider sponsoring some of their beautiful kids here!)
Guys, every kid I saw was wearing such a large smile.
Here, my daughter stands in front of the Equine Therapy arena, where we watched an adorable boy with Downs Syndrome grinning from ear to ear, riding Luna here in the background.
Our missions organization, Engineering Ministries International (the one we’re here with and served in Africa with), designed the arena, and is now forming plans for Tesoros’ vocational center.
Proud parents, mortified parents
In quiet moments this morning, I was reflecting how proud I was that my daughter wants to volunteer here this summer; that I can see her heart lean toward these precious little humans.
Though I’m often intentionally seeking to praise what God’s doing in my kids–I didn’t have to try to be proud. I just was.
But this week, let’s just say there were two times in front of new missionary friends that I wasn’t proud of one or more of my kids. I was straight-up embarrassed.
(Without my kids’ permission, I won’t share the exact details here. Still would love to keep my kids out of that part of therapy they need someday because their mom’s a writer…)
When your kid embarrasses you, get forensic.
There are times embarrassment is a very appropriate emotion. (Hello, child poking Grandma’s arm-dangle.)
In fact, aren’t there times in parenting that if you weren’t embarrassed, something might be wrong?!
But I’ve also found myself feeling embarrassed just because a child is different from me. Maybe they’re more melodramatic, or more extroverted or more introverted.
Sometimes healthy management of my child becomes a desire to simply control them; to conform them to my own image, not God’s.
So you could ask questions like these:
- Am I embarrassed for holy/appropriate reasons here? Is there a moral issue, or an issue of rudeness or unloving behavior, that needs to be curbed?
- Am I embarrassed because my child is different from me?
- How should I discipline differently for childish behavior vs. outright rebellion?
What part of this is my own “image management”?
Though embarrassment is indeed an appropriate emotion at times, embarrassment can be eerily close to shame.
That’s when we communicate not just that behavior is wrong, but that the person is wrong and unworthy of connection: “I don’t understand how you could do that.”
SHAME PARENTING vs GUILT EXPOSURE: InfographicThat lack of connection makes parents volatile–often leading us to control our kids through fear. Sure, there are times when fear is a necessary motivator (“Don’t chase that ball into the street!”).
In my book, there are times it’s a-okay to communicate my embarrassment…which I did do this week. But my kids weren’t created as weighty enough to support my identity. That’s God’s job.
And when my identity hinges on my kids’ performance, that’s ripe for dysfunction, no?
Personally, when I can dissect which part of me wants image-management and set that aside, I can respond to my kids more proactively than reactively. Which is almost always the healthier version of me.
What’s the right response now? What’s the right response later?
Ephesians 4:29 explicitly tells me the only kind of words I should be speaking are those that fit the occasion.
Proverbs 25:11, too, speaks of a word “fitly spoken”–i.e. fitting for that person, at that time, in that way–as “apples of gold in settings of silver.
Really, the whole Bible talks a lot about timing (see Ecclesiastes 3, and a lot more).
So I’m looking not just at what to say, but how and when to say it. And though sometimes it takes herculean patience and self-awareness, that’s the loving and godly response to my kids.
Preparing for our first home-assignment, I remember talking with one missionary-mom friend of mine about the inevitable meltdown of a jetlagged kid on a plane, or in a relative’s home.
“People expect kids to mess up,” she shrugged. “They just look to see how the parents will respond.”
I find a lot of wisdom in this.
A simple “We’re going to go talk about this in the car/in another room” and guiding a child firmly out of the situation goes a long way. So does apologizing to the child’s audience, when the child is out of earshot. (Otherwise, it feels like a an indirect dig at the child, rather than a genuine apology for others’ discomfort: “Please forgive my child for acting so rudely” [insert glare at child].)
But whether other parents see me as dealing with the situation has to take a backseat to actually dealing with it well in God’s eyes.
…And a few more ideas when your kid embarrasses you:
- For me, both times this week, this involved me needing to keep cool, so that I added wisdom and peace to the situation, not drama and reactivity. (Not easy. I was pretty torqued.)
- In level tones, I instructed the offending child(ren) to go to a place the child could also cool off and get out of their “animal” brains. Neuroscience tells me it’s at least 20 minutes before their prefrontal cortex kicks back in for wise decision-making. Wholehearted repentance is easier in this space, too. And it’s easier for me to discipline and train kids thoughtfully rather than punishing for my embarrassment.
- In private, ask heart-probing questions about what happened and the heart attitudes behind it. I can control some of this with my own tone: i.e. “What were you THINKING?” vs. “Can you help me understand what was going on there, and how you were processing that?” Then I can maybe proceed to questions like, “Looking back on that, do you feel like that was wise? Loving? What was your heart attitude?” Doing this in private, in my experience, helps kids toward that genuine remorse, rather than their own image-management (whether that looks like a kid continuing to goof off, or rolling their eyes, or smarting off). Don’t miss When Mercy Looks like Your Kid Getting Caught.
- If it’s a moral issue, once your child is genuinely sorry, consider your child apologizing to the same circle of people offended. A child of mine had to do this not once, but twice this week.
Reality is, our world needs something far more important than our perfect kids.
They need kids and parents who know they need Jesus.
And parents who, amidst their own humiliation, choose to show their kids God’s kindness that leads to repentance (Romans 2:4).
