Blessed to be Broken

What makes a successful iron-on transfer? Typically, heat and pressure working together. But, even with those elements seemingly perfectly at play, the transfer can be incomplete. 

I didn’t want to use the word failure because you never know what type of flaw might be at play you couldn’t see. Maybe something was wrong with the transfer material. Maybe it was the item being placed under all that heat and pressure or maybe it was something as simple as moving too fast and not giving the proper attention to detail. 

This is what popped in my brain as I had a conversation with my adult child. 

Parenting. Can we be honest about that? Can we admit that it’s one of the hardest, heartbreaking, humbling, scariest, yet joy-filled and rewarding experience we get the privilege of doing?

And can we agree that even though a child grows into an adult, parents will always be parents? And the child will always be their “child”? 

Ok, where am I going with this? Parents aren’t perfect. Shocker, I know. Children aren’t perfect either. Another shocker. 

Each in their own element, is a first for both. A first time being a parent to whoever the child is, and the first time the child is being a child. 

Even more of a first, is the day we daily walk into. Oh, we might carry the same crap, different day mentality, but make no mistake, no one knows what each day will bring, and no one can predict how it will end. 

Is there a perfect book on “How-to’s” on either being a parent or a child? No. But, that’s never stopped a person from giving it their best attempt at putting both child, and parent in a tidy little box by telling you how it should be done. Key word…should. 

There’s no way anyone can predict what will happen when two people come together and either decide to intentionally or accidentally have a child. Generation after generation collide together, and create new life into the child. 

It’s really mind boggling to think about how any one of us evolves given the family tree we’re born into. So many knowns, yet so many more unknowns that die with those gone before us. 

Yet, here we are. 

One thing that’s certain; you don’t stop being a parent when your child moves out, and learns to do life outside the confines of their upbringing. 

What they learn, and do outside of our protection and temporary walls, is truly, none of our business. 

We’ve done our part. We raised them. We pray we did a good job, and we hope we didn’t scar them for life with decisions we made at the time we thought were a good idea. 

There’s no guarantee that your adult child will stay in relationship with you. 

For the parent that desperately wants to be a part of their adult child’s life but has been cut out for whatever reason, the loss of that relationship is beyond heartbreaking. 

For the adult child that desperately wants their parent to truly see them, and accept them for who they are, is also beyond heartbreaking. 

In either case, you have to ask yourself what went so horribly wrong that the only answer was estrangement? Worse yet, sometimes the answer never comes.

But, as a parent, one of the best things I can do is be ready to listen when my adult child decides to talk about his upbringing from the way he experienced it. 

Notice the active word. Listen. Not justify, not make excuses for, not belittle, but listen. You also don’t compare, and try to outdo what they went through by saying how much worse you may have had it. 

Let me tell you what. If your adult child feels safe enough to talk to you about their innermost thoughts, you probably did better than you think you did. 

I get it. We all like to think we did a better job than our parent’s. Truth be told, we really only did the best we knew how, with the information we had at the time, sometimes relying on the ways we think worked on us. 

Our kids are not iron-on transfers of us. They weren’t meant to be exactly what we’d like them to be, or mini versions of ourselves. They also weren’t made to live out our dreams that died.  

Yet, if you look, and listen close enough, you’ll see they’ve taken what they’ve learned, and evolved and you’ll see the pieces and parts they embraced and carry forward. 

I guess what I’m trying to say is, nobody comes out of this thing called life, alive. We’re given a finite piece of time here on earth and we each have our God assignments. 

The assignment of raising an actual human being is not for the faint of heart. It’s a lifetime commitment. One that can only be accomplished with grace and humility. Pride has no place here. 

The privilege of watching my son grow and learn in this adult phase of his life, is something I don’t take for granted.

Maybe I’m in the minority, but I don’t feel like my son owes me his life. I raised my son because he was my son. I gave what I gave, because it’s who I am. I love my son. But that’s not to say he didn’t rattle the chains of my patience.

My love however was never tied with conditions. And, I’ll let you in on a little secret. My son has unknowingly saved my life more than once. He’s also shaved off a few years. So there’s that! Ha!

Obligated love isn’t love. It’s obligation. No one can force a parent to love their child or for the child to love their parent. Although, I believe deep down, there’s always a love connection between a parent and child no matter the life circumstance. 

Why do I believe that? Because even though I’m estranged from my mom, I’ve never stopped loving her. I may not have agreed with her choices. I may have suffered at her hands. I may not have always liked her, but I’ve never stopped loving her. 

Who knows. Maybe she could say the same of me. 

What I do know is that we all, at one time or another have been that proverbial prodigal child. Luke 15:11-32, if you haven’t read it, is a lesson about a wayward child that decided to leave home, squander their inheritance, and inevitably return home to a father with wide open arms, whom the son previously rejected. 

It’s a reminder that no matter how far we wander, we always have a safe place to go; in the mighty arms of Jesus. No one loves better than Jesus. No one forgives like Jesus, and no one compares to Jesus. 

13 years ago on this date, I was baptized in Skaneateles Lake in Skaneateles, NY. For most of my life, I was that prodigal child living my life any which way I wanted. It almost destroyed me. 

Yet, when everything fell apart, and I had no where else to run, there was Jesus waiting with open arms to remind me who I was in Him, because of Him. Not because of what I’d done, but because of who He is. 

Before I was anything else in this world, I was a child of God. I may have wandered, but even though I’m considered an adult, a senior adult at that, I’m first, foremost, and always, a child of God. No matter how adult I think I am. 

Give yourself some grace today. You’ve beat yourself up long enough about things that are out of your control. The choices made by others was never yours to carry. So lay them down, and pick up that grace, and let joy abound. I promise, you’re doing so much better than you think. 

Peace and love to you my friends.