Words are remembered, taken with us through our days. This is true for us and it is true for our children and young adults.
Words are gifts.
Looking back over twenty-seven years of parenting eight children--toddler to adult--there are words I don't regret. Words spoken aptly. Words purposeful to the moment. Words to build up. Words carried through the day...and years.
I don't regret
"Let's go to the park!" Let me out of here! This was a common thought in my years with many littles. With a handful of bouncy children, I needed a break. Though I thought this many times a day, I don't regret staying the course and holding my tongue. In fact, replacing "let me out of here" with "let's go to the park" kept difficult moments positive with words that brought life. I don't regret, "Let's go to the park."
"Let's _____ together!" Fill in the blank. Let's bake together. Let's do a puzzle together. Let's build Legos. Yes, there was flour in the grout. Yes, we were eventually missing pieces (they likely got swept up with the flour and ball field clay). And, for those wondering, I didn't particularly like Legos. However, as our adult children have spread wings and flown from our home and as my elementary learners seem to grow by the minute, I don't regret accepting their invitation (or extending offers to them) to do our days together. Oh yes, I was tired--still am. But I couldn't have reaped the relationships I have with my children (including my adult children) without sowing "let's ____together" with wild abandon, even when soil was rocky or weeds popped out of no where--meaning I was tempted to give up and quit!
As children have become adults they continue to invite me into their lives: to shop (I am not a shopper but eagerly accept) or to coffee (I didn't enjoy coffee, but now have a coffee rewards card). There are many aspects of family life which could've contributed to our relationship--and likely did--however, I suspect the relationship began to soar with the open invitation to do life together.
Who doesn't appreciate an invitation?
"Let's take a break." Littles only sit for so long. And, if I am honest, I can only sit for so long. Yesterday, in fact, I spent several hours at the kitchen table rotating learners with questions and explanations. To stay in the game, I had to take short breaks: freshen a glass of water, stretch my legs, step outside to get the mail.
Taking breaks develops work ethic. There's a body clock in all of us, the one that signals we are about to slide off track. I'm not suggesting children take a break every time they don't like something or begin to feel uncomfortable. Just the opposite. We've all had to work through those tendencies. But if we are honest, there is a point when we become unproductive and need a mind change, if only for a moment. Helping children not only understand what their personal time frame is and then helping them lengthen it (hear attention span-that's another post) is a valuable life skill.
In addition, helping children build a repertoire of positive, productive ways to take breaks is invaluable.
I will never regret the short breaks we took: walking around the block, skipping to the neighbor's house and back, counting to 20 when frustrated, or standing up to stretch. As our children grew, breaks offered opportunities for intentionality, conversation, and life essentials.
"Your brothers and sisters will be your best friends." Fighting and bickering can get the best of a parent; it's had me often. In fact, hearing myself speak the words "your brothers and sisters will be your best friend" reminded me that my efforts could some day reap rewards. And, they did! I don't regret speaking these words.
Today, our adult children are intentional about coming to visit younger siblings to play games or bake cookies; to pull littles close, smile into their eyes, to get on their level. These are moments a parent treasures, moments I once dreamed would happen. And they did!
"Let's read a book." Beginning in the young years, I purposed to make books an acceptable, inviting option. With fond memories of personal picture book favorites and daddy's calming read-aloud tone, I wanted to offer the gift of story to my children. Reading several books a day (not always in one sitting) laid a foundation of enjoyment, invitation, wonder.
I've discovered another gift of story.
When tension rises or bodies grow weary, books offer a restful oasis.
As children matured and moved passed picture books, my comment became "let's read the next chapter".
I have a multitude of opportunities--daily--to speak words aptly, to bring life. I am sure you do as well. Will you purpose with me to choose those words today?
For, what we sow today we will reap tomorrow.
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