William A Ritter
First United Methodist Church, Birmingham, Michigan,
Scripture: Matthew 6:25-34
Yesterday morning, before retreating to do my writing, I did a little reading of the newspaper….that hybrid thing the News and Free Press pony up to print on Saturday. Imagine my surprise to discover that the three most interesting stories, relative to Mother’s Day, were deadly.
In one, a mother and her two sons were buried, in what funeral directors from Dorfman Chapel called “our largest such service, ever.” They were dead, thanks to an out-of-control Denali, driven by an out-of-control drunk on the streets of Farmington Hills, late Tuesday afternoon.
In the second, a toddler weighing forty pounds was mauled by a pair of dogs weighing 140 pounds….possibly, even likely, while her mother was sleeping.
In the third, a long-awaited and much-heralded opera, Margaret Garner, opened last night in Detroit, which tells the powerful and painful story of a runaway slave who decides to kill her children rather than see them returned to slavery when their recapture becomes imminent.
Whew! Not exactly the introduction to Mother’s Day that Hallmark would have us envision. Speaking personally, I didn’t have any of those stories on my radar screen when I selected today’s text and title:
The text being: “Do not be anxious.”
The title reading: “Spills, and Great Laughter: Enjoying the Moguls of Parenting”
Obviously, there is much to be anxious about. And some of the spills are more fatal than funny.
Last week, in a sermon on church shopping (which more and more of you do, and which Kris and I will soon do), I said that the second most important question shoppers ask of churches is: “Can you help us raise our children?” And the only reason it isn’t the first question is because, statistically speaking, not all of the shoppers have children. And in my brief remarks following the raising of that question, I said: “More than any time within my pastoral memory, I sense a lot of parental anxiety….anxiety about:
the job being harder than before,
the pitfalls, greater than before,
the baggage, piled higher than before,
and the stakes, more important than before.”
I can’t document any of that statistically, but I can report it anecdotally….given my sensitivity to your worry….to which I am exposed regularly and repeatedly. Suggesting that, where parenting is concerned, many of you are putting more into it but deriving less from it…..if, among the things you hope to derive from it, are intangibles like comfort and joy.
So is the job really harder? I suppose you could talk about that over brunch. The people in Farmington Hills would probably say: “We don’t know if the job is harder, but the cars are certainly faster.” Even as the people in Waterford might add: “We don’t know if the job is harder, either, but the dogs are certainly bigger.” Although opera goers would happily concede: “We don’t have the faintest idea whether the job is harder but, praise God, slaves are fewer.”
Death aside (to whatever degree Detroiters can, this Mother’s Day, push death aside), one would have to admit that fewer children die than used to die. In earlier eras, the question was: “Will the kids survive?” Which was a good reason for having a lot of them….in case some didn’t. John Wesley was one of nineteen. But how many of those children lived to maturity? Not many. Only nine. Disease being the predator then. And, in some parts of the world, poverty joining disease as twin predators now. Along with war. Certainly war. But I hear less talk about such things here in Birmingham. Oh, they’re real. But their reality is limited, locally.
Although there are predators today. Unfortunately, they are harder to identify. Drug dealers, certainly. Sex offenders, arguably. Priests, peers, parental abusers and pornographers, occasionally. Drunk drivers and deranged dogs, relatively rarely (albeit tragically). When we heard about the runaway bride in Georgia, the fact that our first thoughts were of kidnap and murder give us away. We believe there are people out there just waiting to prey on the young and the innocent, and that we had better be on the lookout for them. Even though we don’t know them. Especially since we don’t know them. They could be very ordinary people. Why, they could even be very good people. Which is why churches, including this one, are required to check backgrounds on everybody who works with kids. Because you never know. Unfortunately, when your suspicion widens, your anxiety deepens. Again, because you really never know.
But not all of the worry is about things predatory, given that a lot of bad stuff happens to kids internally. They get messed up in their heads….the way they think. They get messed up in their hearts….the way they feel. They even get messed up in their stomachs….the way they eat, or don’t eat. Friends of mine in another part of the country answered my inquiry about their daughter, who recently returned to the family after an extended time away, where she received therapy for an eating malady. They write:
As far as our daughter goes, it truly has been a roller coaster. Predictably, the first three weeks after she returned home were good weeks….positive interactions, good communication, lots of motivation, etc. As time has passed, it has become more of a struggle for her and for us. To utilize the therapeutic parlance, she is “actively engaged in the eating disorder again” and it almost seems like this digression is worse for all of us. She gets alternately discouraged and angry, and her mother and I struggle to find that ever-delicate balance between expressing unconditional love in the midst of trying to hold her accountable for her actions. My perception is that all of us are at that juncture where we are wondering what comes next. Is it going to get any better? And if so, how is it going to get any better? I am sure this sounds like a lot of mumbo-jumbo, but I would appreciate any prayers you could offer on our behalf, and particularly for our daughter.
Kids make choices. And choices have consequences. Which we sometimes see sooner than they do. And clearer than they do. We have had fourteen cases of alcohol poisoning this year at the college I serve as a Trustee. The number is quadruple that of any previous year. Which is a statistic that is “par for the course” collegiately across the country (state schools and private schools….church-affiliated schools and totally secular schools). And we know it is only a matter of time before someone dies as a result. We’re not talking “if,” we’re talking “when.” So we worry. And worry drives our strategy. Which includes some stick, some carrot, a lot of creative teaching, and some caring monitoring. We’re doing all the stuff parents do when they worry, even though a quarter of a century ago we were told that colleges should get out of the parenting business completely.
Until you have been named in a lawsuit by a father claiming his daughter was date-raped at your school (even though he concedes she was bombed out of her skull at the time)…. arguing that you, as a Trustee involved in the school’s governance, should have anticipated that and done something so as to prevent and protect against it….only then do you realize how wide the responsibility stretches and how pervasive the anxiety is.
No wonder a lot of you are looking for help….and some of you, even for hope. “Can you help us raise our children?” you ask. And we can. Not perfectly. But assuredly. We will make the space. We will spend the money. We will hire the staffers. We will offer the classes. We will also sponsor the trips, establish the boundaries and model the behaviors. Which may help. Never once….at least on my watch…..have we turned down a request, said “no” to a program, or failed to provide the money when it involved kid stuff or family stuff. We know where the need is. We also know where the payoff is. And if it really does take a village to raise a child, we know that as families become more scattered, communities become more anonymous, neighbors become more suspicious, and schools become caught in the squeeze between higher expectations and fewer dollars, buildings like ours….and people like us….will have to become more and more village-like in our ministries and in our outreach.
You want to talk about villages, just talk to Karl and Sarah Zimmermann. With two small children at home and a long-scheduled moving day staring ominously down the calendar, they learned that Sarah would have to have a tumor (her second in four years) removed from the area behind her eye and in front of her brain. Fortunately, it was benign. Miraculously, it was accomplished.
But it was the young mothers of Sarah’s GRIP Group (Growth, Relationships, Inspiration and Partnership) here at the church….along with their husbands….who orchestrated the move, settled the furniture, filled the drawers, stocked the cupboards, minded the kids, cooked the meals, and said the prayers that kept Karl and Sarah going and got them through. Incredibly “village-y”….if I say so, proudly.
But my concern this morning is less institutional than biblical. I’d like to discuss parental anxiety, not from the perspective of skills to address it or supporters to share it. Instead, I’d like to talk about parental anxiety from the perspective of spiritual resources to diminish it. After all, we’re supposed to enjoy this business called “family.” “It is not good to be alone.” I read that in the Bible, early and repeatedly. I also observe that the word “creation” means little apart from the word “relation.” This is not something I feel a need to defend. This is something most of us know and all of us desire. But let me divert you to the Sermon on the Mount.
“Don’t be anxious,” says Jesus. Don’t be anxious about food. Don’t be anxious about drink. Don’t be anxious about clothes. But, by implication, the list could include anything….including kids. Don’t be anxious about your kids.
Which leads to a “why” question followed by a “how” question.
Why shouldn’t we be anxious?
Because our heavenly Father knows what we need, even before we ask.
How should we avoid being anxious?
By seeking first the Kingdom of God (after which everything else will pretty much
fall into place).
Which I take to mean that once you get things prioritized, they’ll work. You need to remember who is God, and who isn’t. The fact being, you aren’t.
As I have said to you before, the root of parental anxiety (and the source of parental guilt) comes from what I call “the myth of parental omnipotence”….which is the belief that you can be all, do all, assure all and guarantee all when it comes to your children. I have illustrated this before with a fairly common scenario. In the middle of the night, your child cries out in the dark. Generally speaking, you can sleep through an earthquake….through a helicopter landing on the front lawn….or through your house being burgled by the Pirates of the Caribbean. But the merest whimper of your child, you hear. Rushing to the room, you inquire as to what is wrong. But before it becomes even remotely clear as to what is wrong….or whether anything is wrong…. you hear yourself saying: “There, there, everything is going to be all right.” Which is a statement of faith, given that you don’t know if everything is going to be all right….or if you can make everything all right. And even if you can, you know the night will soon come when (no matter how hard you try), you can’t. Except that you never are able to shake the thought that you should….make it all right, I mean.
Colleague Tracey Robinson-Harris relates the story of a five-year-old little girl who, in the middle of a long and frightening night, wakes up in tears. She is staying with her grandparents because her own parents have gone off for the weekend in an attempt to put the broken pieces of their marriage back together. The little girl is understandably anxious, given that she doesn’t know what will happen, either to them or to herself.
When the girl awakens, she cries out: “Grandpa, I’m scared.” “It’s all right, dear,” says Grandpa. “I’m here, I’m here.” And indeed he is….sleeping in the other bed in the same room….half dozing, half listening for his granddaughter’s anticipated cry. The girl hears his reassuring words, “I’m here.” Yet crying still, she says: “I know, Grandpa. I know you’re here. But is your face turned toward me?”
We are not omnipotent. We won’t always be able to supply the fix. But, hopefully, we will always be able to supply the face. “Hide not thy face from me, O God,” prays the psalmist. The implication being there’s a connection between face time and faith time. I am sure that all of you have heard the phrase: “That’s a face only a mother could love.” But every child should have a face that a mother can face. As a child, I could handle anything that family members did or said, except for those occasions (fortunately rare) when they refused to look at me.
Which happens. Because parents are not omnipotent. And neither is the family. Family is good. But family is not God. When told that his mother and brothers are more than a little upset with him, even as they are cooling their heels outside waiting for him, Jesus asked: “Who is my mother? Who are my brothers?” Then, answering his own question, Jesus said: “Those who do the will of my Father….that’s who my mother and brothers are.”
Which took place years after Jesus told his mother and father they should have known he’d be in the Temple (when they presumed him lost and were sick with worry). Leading one woman to announce (after hearing me preach that story): “If he’d have been my kid, I’d have slapped him silly.”
Well, maybe Jesus needed it….smart-mouthing his mama like that. Although I’m not an advocate of slapping kids for any reason. But those texts….along with others like them….are there to say: Families are important. But not ultimately important. Worthy of affection? Yes. Worthy of devotion? Yes. Worthy of worship? No. Families are human and, as such, come damaged in the package….getting no guarantees….giving no guarantees. As a parent, you cannot guarantee much of anything. You cannot guarantee your children’s safety. You cannot guarantee your children's loyalty. Nor can you guarantee your children’s happiness. I am with Tony Campolo on the “happiness thing.” I want to cringe every time I hear a parent say: “All I want is for my child to be happy.” Surely you want for something more than that….hope for something more than that….pray for something more than that. If you want to pray for something, pray for your child’s goodness rather than your child’s happiness. Because if God’s world rotates the way I think it does, that’s the order in which those things come. Goodness first, happiness second. If my daughter is good, I believe that (over the long haul) she stands a better than even chance of being happy.
* * * * *
In today’s title, I referenced skiing. Which I don’t anymore. At least I don’t downhill anymore. And wasn’t very good at it when I did. But I did watch skiers in the recent Winter Olympics. Jumpers, soaring. Slalomers, whirling. Downhillers, flying. But it was the mogulers who earned my admiration. Because their course was pockmarked (like a face permanently damaged by zits). Bumps here. Dips there. Holes and mounds everywhere. Unlike the slalom, where all the winners have to do is avoid the poles, there is no avoiding the moguls. They are part of the course. So what do you do? I’ll tell you what you do. You slow down. You watch out. You adjust to the changing conditions at a moment’s notice. And you ride as light (on your skis) as you can…. staying as loose as you can….for as long as you can. Spills being axiomatic. But seldom catastrophic. I doubt you can ski the moguls if your only question is “But what if I fall?”
Which is good advice for parents. Who do fall. Will fall. Cannot help but fall. Falling being the human condition. So for God’s sake (and with God’s help), lighten up….laugh more….fret less….and do your best to enjoy the ride.
Note: GRIP Groups (of which we have several) fall under the creative leadership of Mary Feldmaier, who oversees programming for our youngest children and the families of our youngest children. While each group takes on its own character, most of the participants are young moms who gather to swap stories, gain insights and read books, even as they find ways to encourage and support one another.
As concerns the family working through issues related to their daughter’s eating disorder, I have chosen to protect their identity, even though their journey is one traveled by many. They are exceptional people and I covet for them (and for their daughter) a highway through the valley.
