The thing is, we’re all trying to raise good kids.
We’re all hoping and praying that they become decent human beings.
We’re all begging God for the wisdom to teach them to live right and grow into good adults.
But that’s just it. These kids aren’t raised yet. They aren’t grown yet.
They might be good kids some—maybe MOST—of the time.
They might befriend the friendless.
They might let their hearts shine through their words and actions.
They might be honest and work hard and make good choices.
They might be rule-followers.
They might be humble and kind and respectful.
They might lift up those who have been knocked down.
They might be givers and helpers and truth-tellers.
They might speak life into those around them.
They might choose to stand alone when the crowd is headed down the wrong path.
And then other times, they might not—or more accurately, WILL NOT do the right thing.
Because they are still learning, growing, developing. They don’t always understand how their actions affect others or even themselves. Heck, we don’t always understand those things as adults. How can I expect them to be “good kids” all the time? I’m not even always a good adult!
As a mom, I know I’ve been surprised with the poor choices my own kid has made. The hurtful words she’s said, the lies she’s told, the rules she’s intentionally chosen to break.
And I’ve often wondered where and how, in her short nine years, I’ve gone wrong. How the train has derailed when I’ve tried hard to keep it chugging down the straight and narrow path.
Sometimes when I look at my oldest, I still see a baby. But a baby she is not. And no matter how hard I try to guide her, or the one who comes after her, down the path of right, they’re both still going to veer off onto the path that’s all wrong.
Because sometimes, or A LOT of the time, that’s what kids do. They veer. They go their own way precisely because we’ve told them not to.
They’re still being raised. They’re still growing. They’re still learning.
So yes, I’m trying to raise good kids into good adults.
But there are going to be times when they make bad choices and do bad things and seem like bad humans.
And it’s not always going to be my fault. And it doesn’t mean I’m a bad mom. And it doesn’t mean they’re bad kids.
It just means we’ve all still got work to do. A LOT of work to do, because isn’t there always?
I just pray that one day, God in his infinite grace, will use the mistakes—theirs and mine—for our betterment. For his glory. Somehow. Someway.
And that someday I’ll look at my kids, amazed by how good they turned out, and realize that in all the failure and doubt and loneliness and confusion, I was never doing it alone. And that in the midst of their poor choices, neither were they.
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