Back to School

Tuesday night was curriculum night at Olivia's school. I got to go and sit in her seat and hear all about what she's going to be learning this year. It was very informative, as always, and it was interesting to see some of the children I had been hearing about. I even got to make Olivia a little love note and leave it on her desk. That was fun. What I didn't know was that I was about to learn my own lesson, sitting right there in my daughter's chair.

About forty five minutes into it (fifteen minutes until the end), the door swung open with a thud and in walked a young woman wearing a very short, very tight dress, her three little children rushing like a tornado all around her. They completely interrupted everything and everyone turned to look as they took the absolute most difficult route to her son's desk,  requiring everyone in their path to get up from their chairs and make room for the little storm moving through.

I immediately recognized one of the children. She had been in Olivia's class last year. Her brother was in Olivia's class this year. As I watched this family silently make their impossible way to the child's seat, all I could pray was, "Forgive me, Lord. Forgive me, Lord. Forgive me, Lord."

Here's what I know of this little girl and why I was asking for forgiveness. The first time I ever saw this girl, I was helping out in the classroom, and when she kept nodding off after the morning bell rang, she was walked to the back of the room and led to a bean bag chair, where she proceeded to instantly fall asleep. The teacher explained that the parents had kept her out so late at the State Fair the night before that she didn't get any sleep. This wasn't the first time. The next thing I learned was that the back of her mouth was full of silver teeth at six years old, because, by her own admission, no one ever made her brush her teeth at home. Hmmm. And then, when the movie Wolf Man came out, she told Olivia that her parents were taking her to see it on, you guessed it, a school night. Just the commercials for this R-rated movie were enough to give me nightmares at 36 years old. At this little girl's age, I think I would've been scarred for life.

 All the times I had watched this girl in school, the smallest in her class, the class clown who would rather get in trouble for being silly as long as she got the attention, I always wondered who in the world her parents were. Now, her mom was sitting right beside me, dressed more appropriately for a night club than a curriculum night, and all I could pray was "Forgive me." I knew I should be praying for HER. For wisdom. For help. But the mama in me wanted to pull her aside and shake her, to cover her up so her kids might learn about modesty, to make her see how much they needed her to grow up and be a mama. Forgive me, Lord.

If a child is in danger, it is my place as a human being who cares to report it and do what I can to get them help. BUT, areas like these are very gray. Those kids may not be learning anything at home about responsibility or boundaries, but they're being fed, and they're not coming to school with broken bones or bruises. It's really not my place to show her where I believe she's dropping the ball. And it's certainly not my place to judge her choices, even though it seems obvious to me that they are wrong.

In Luke 6:37-38, Jesus is talking to me. I knew it the moment I saw that young mother, because I felt my gut reaction and I knew it was wrong. But I love how God knows that sometimes we need further motivation for doing what's right beyond just the fact that it's the right thing to do.

“Do not judge others, and you will not be judged. Do not condemn others, or it will all come back against you. Forgive others, and you will be forgiven. Give, and you will receive. Your gift will return to you in full—pressed down, shaken together to make room for more, running over, and poured into your lap. The amount you give will determine the amount you get back." (Luke 6:37-38, NLT)

The real question to keep myself in check is not whether or not I agree with this mother's mothering. It's this: what do I want returning to me in full, pressed down, shaken together and running over in my lap? Do I want a bunch of self righteous judgement and impossible expectations or do I want grace, forgiveness, and love that covers a multitude of sins?(1Peter 4:8) If you spent one day in my house to watch my parenting, I'm sure you'd know which one it is that I need. How about you?

Father, thank You for teaching me in ways I can understand. Thank You for taking my critical spirit and humbling me by showing me where I am wrong. Help me to deal with the shortcomings of others they way You so graciously and gently deal with mine. Give me a heart for those who need you, and teach me how to pray for them instead of having to ask your forgiveness for judging them.

In His gracious love,
Amy


copyright 2010, Amy Wallace