Raising The Children

It was Saturday evening, and Certain Man and I were having dinner at Bird-in-Hand Restaurant, waiting for the musical, The Home Game, to begin.  We had bought the meal+performance ticket that came with the unlimited food/salad bar, and I was on my first trip to the Salad station.  It had been a lovely day, and we had made memories, gotten really tired, and I was looking forward to a peaceful evening.  But far off, somewhere in the restaurant, a child was crying.  The child wasn’t throwing a tantrum but was fretfully and insistently crying.

An older gentleman was filling his plate beside me.  I was building my salad and said, just to make conversation, “That child is rather unhappy!”

I was totally unprepared for his reaction.  “I hate kids!” he said vehemently.  “That kid needs someone to smash it over the face.  That’s the trouble with kids these days.  Doesn’t the Bible say, ‘Spare the rod and spoil the child’?”

My mind went scrambling.  He had caught me flatfooted.  “No,” I said, rather tentatively, “I’m pretty sure it doesn’t!”

“Well, that’s what it means,” he said pointedly.  He went on about modern day discipline and how terrible kids are these days.  “I wouldn’t ever been allowed to act like that!  Would you?”

That was a whole different story, one I didn’t want to get in to.  The truth was, I probably wouldn’t have been allowed to act like that, but the truth also was, I don’t remember our parents ever taking us to a restaurant to eat.  When we traveled (which was seldom) we packed lunches or waited until we got where we were going. But here was this irate person wanting an answer.

I said something to the effect that I would not have been allowed to act like that, but though I believe in discipline, there are better ways of dealing with children than “smashing them across the mouth,” and I fled to my seat, far more troubled by the exchange I had with him than I was over the (still wailing) child.

Sometimes I wonder at the coincidences of my life.  We had been seated for maybe half an hour when the table behind me was vacated, and a new set of diners came in.  It was a grandmother, her daughter, a boy that looked like he was maybe 14 and two younger boys.  The tirade started before they ever got settled.

“No!  Get out of there!  The two of you may not sit together!  All you will do is fight!” The tone was raucous, and the words penetrated my heart.  The daughter, evidently the mother of the younger two boys, obviously had one that she was fed up with.  She was constantly fussing at him.  Then there was this bit of a scuffle and suddenly I heard him quietly sobbing.

“Stop it!” She said harshly.

“But it hurts,” he said while crying softly.

“I said to stop it!” she again spoke in an unkind tone.

“But my arm really hurts!” he sobbed, still quietly.

“If you don’t stop, I’m going to do it harder,” she said, and the child fell silent.

I know that I do not know what happened.  I know that this child may have been getting on her last nerve all day.  Maybe she wasn’t feeling good (She didn’t look amiss, but still!)  I know that I’m getting to be an old softie about so many things.  But can’t we discipline our children without anger?  Without “smashing?”  I will always believe that there is a time and a place for discipline, but it needs to be done in love, and it shouldn’t be done with harsh words in a public place.  And yet, my heart aches for parents who have so little to guide them and so much criticism and are floundering in the “dos and don’ts” of our world’s current opinions.

My heart aches even more for the children who seem to be growing up without a healthy balance of discipline.  The thing is, our children are going to need it to make it in this world.  There has to be discipline and instruction and example and, above all, LOVE.  My Daddy had a saying, “It’s never wrong to be kind.”  I wonder why so many parents divorce kindness and firmness.  The two are not incompatible, and a child that knows they are loved is going to respond better to correction.  I didn’t get it right all the time.  Believe me, I didn’t.  And hindsight is better than . . .well, you know!  But I tried! I loved our children intensely.  And I’ve asked for forgiveness where I failed.  I wish I had spanked less, and I wish I had understood better.  In spite of my failures, and even our disagreements about child discipline today, our adult offspringin’s haven’t disowned us and seem to love us.

And I can honestly say that the five of them grew to responsible adulthood without ever, not even once, being “smashed across the face” by either of their parents.  Which is definitely more of a tribute to Grace given by our Heavenly Father than it is to our parenting or (Sorry, Yutzy Five) their behavior.  Which brings me back again to something that we found integral in raising children that’s missing in so many families today.  The understanding that there is a God who deeply loves them as well as us, gave His Son for our salvation, forgives and redeems, but also has a standard for behavior that cannot be ignored.  (I’m not talking about childishness, here.  We often expect our children to behave like born again adults when they are children and they are going to act like children. That’s an unrealistic expectation and it will discourage).

Parenting is hard work.  It’s sacred.  It’s scary.  It’s impacting.  There are no hard and fast, sure-fire rules.  But we cannot give up.  There’s too much at stake. So make it a point to know your children. Hug those little ones, pray for your children and grandchildren, and go easy on judging.  Encourage if you can, and if there is a child whose crying/behavior is irritating you, extend grace to the parents as well as the child.

And no smashing!  Face or otherwise!