Marissa Henley

Encouraging weary women to hope in Christ alone

Why I Stopped Handing Out Parenting Books

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When my oldest child was a toddler, I read a couple of parenting books and decided I had this parenting thing figured out.  I loved the book Don’t Make Me Count to Three by Ginger Plowman and recommended it to everyone I knew.  I was wholeheartedly on board with the idea of teaching my kids to obey me, just as they need to obey God someday.  If any of my friends encountered parenting struggles, rather than listening and praying with them, I told them to read the book.  (Seriously.  How do I still have friends??!!)

As my kids grew older, parenting got more complicated.  It became less black and white (“don’t run into the street!”) and a little more confusing (“are you supposed to punish them for being irresponsible?”).  And I was introduced to a couple of newer parenting books that talked less about first-time obedience and more about giving your children grace.

These books seemed just as biblically-based as the earlier books I had read and left me confused.  Was I supposed to demand obedience or give grace?  Or both?  And how?

I saw an article posted on social media lately that talked about not giving your kids a warning before expecting them to obey.  There was a lot of backlash in the comments, and people were clearly in two camps:  either agreeing with the article that parents should demand immediate obedience or disagreeing and saying parents need to discipline with grace.

This brought to my mind the division I see among Christian parents today.  There’s the group I will loosely term the “obedience camp” and the group I will call the “grace camp.”  These are probably unfair generalizations–I know that those in the obedience camp often give grace and preach the Gospel to their children.  And those in the grace camp set boundaries and require obedience.  But many parents and authors I know tend to fall more on one side or another.  And we silently (or sometimes not-so-silently) judge those on the other side for being too strict or too lenient.

So I wonder, which camp should I fall in?  I feel a lot of pressure from both sides.  One side has a curriculum called Growing Kids God’s Way.  Of course I want to grow my kids God’s way!  Another book I’ve read is Grace-Based Parenting.  There’s nothing more important that grace, right?  How do I choose between parenting God’s way and basing it on grace?  It’s enough to keep a mom awake at night, and trust me, that’s really saying something!

But what if the obedience camp and the grace camp are both biblically correct?  What if they are both God’s way of showing His grace to our children?

What if God, in His wisdom and sovereignty, gives parents different personalities and preferences and strengths and weaknesses that match the needs of their children? 

What if God loves our children so much that He gave them the parents they would need to grow into what He wants them to be?

What if, rather than following a formula or a book or a list of ten parenting application points, we search the Scriptures to see what God says about how to relate to our children and others?

What if not having all the answers causes us to fall on our knees every morning and beg the Lord for the wisdom to deal with whatever we will face that day as parents?  

I bet that would lead to some grace-based, obedience-demanding, radical Christian parenting.

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iPhone Detox Plan

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Last week I wrote a confession about my iPhone addiction and how it is negatively impacting my parenting.  Since then, I’ve struggled a bit with how to write this post about the changes I’ve made.  I don’t want it to come across as boastful.  “Look at me!  I’m supermom!  I’ve deleted all my fun apps, and so should you, or you’ll never be as great a mom as me!”  This is not the statement I’m trying to make.  One of my purposes for this blog is that it exalts the name of Jesus Christ, not me.

 

So I want to start by saying that these are some rules I have imposed on myself because this little rectangular screen has become an idol.  Rules that I need because, despite spending months away from my kids battling a rare cancer that still threatens to take me from them someday, I often choose meaningless entertainment over spending these fleeting days and years wisely with the children whom God has entrusted to me.

 

Not exactly anything to boast about, right?  I didn’t think so.  Now that we’ve got that out of the way, here is my iPhone Detox Plan.

 

Here’s a BEFORE shot of my iPhone:

I realized that every time I turn on my phone to make a call or answer a text, I see those tempting little numbers by my email or Facebook or Words With Friends.  So reflexively, I tap to see who likes my status or how badly my grandmother is beating me at Words.  (Embarrassing, but true.)  Next thing I know, my six-year-old is talking to me, and I’m giving him the I’m-checking-facebook-and-pretending-to-be-listening-”uh-huh.”

 

(Side note:  My six-year-old feels the need to tell me pretty much everything he thinks, all day long.  Ten years from now, it will really come in handy if he still wants to do this.  So I should probably PUT THE PHONE DOWN AND LISTEN NOW.)

 

To fight against these distracting little numbers, I decided to hide them on the third screen of my iPhone.  This is what my home screen looks like now:

 Very boring, right?  I can call, text, look up a Bible verse, take a picture, check my calendar or to-do list, and renew library books.  (Not that the Bible is boring.  But you get the point.)

 

And if I want to browse Pinterest, check email, or play a game?  I have to swipe all the way to the third screen and open a folder titled “Are Kids There?”  How’s that for conviction??  These apps are all off-limits if my kids are around.

Here is the rest of my iPhone Detox Plan:

1.  I’m not carrying my phone around in my pocket anymore.  It stays on the kitchen counter, and I check it periodically.  If someone needs something urgent, they can call my home phone.  This eliminates the temptation to answer calls or texts while reading to my kids or to check email every five minutes when I get bored.

 

2.  When I’m out with my kids, my phone stays in my purse.  This applies to spending time with friends and date nights with Noel whenever possible.  No more Pinterest at the park.

 

3.  When I’m driving, my phone stays in my purse.  My bluetooth lets me know if I get a call and who it’s from.  I can even answer it hands-free if needed.  No more texting at stoplights!  I’ve asked my kids to hold me accountable on this one.

 

4.  I’m trying to reduce talking on the phone while driving with my kids and spend that time chatting with them while I have a captive audience.

 

5.  Unless it is a special situation, I am no longer answering call-waiting.  The person I’m talking to is important and deserves my attention.  (This doesn’t have anything to do with my kids or my iPhone.  But it’s part of life in 1982 that I miss–the ability to talk to just one person at a time.)

 

6.  My husband and I have decided that 6-8 p.m. will be phone-free and computer-free time in our home.  We are not militant about it, but we are trying to be more aware and really devote those hours to spending time together as a family.  I’m much more likely to read one more bedtime story if I know I can’t use my laptop for another 20 minutes anyway.

 

As I mentioned earlier, I have already broken these rules a few times.  I’m amazed at how reflexively I reach for my back pocket, how often I wonder if I have any email, how I feel compelled to read every text message within five seconds of hearing that chime.

 

Let’s be honest.  I am a housewife.  None of my emails are urgent.  But these kids are growing up at lightening speed, and in a few years, they won’t want to talk to me or play Monopoly with me or tell me every detail of the Magic Tree House book they just read.  That’s the urgent stuff, and I want my minute-to-minute choices to reflect that.

 

If you have felt convicted about technology use or another distraction in your life, what changes are you making?  Will you leave a comment and let me know?

 

To God be the glory.

 

 

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“Hang Up and Drive”: Motherhood Edition

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Hello, my name is Marissa, and I am an iPhone addict.

 

I’ve known something was not right for awhile now.  I’ve tried putting away the laptop on the days my kids are home, but that didn’t seem to be enough.  Then recently, a friend shared this post from Hands Free Mama on Facebook.  Reading it was like getting hit in the gut.  It’s got me thinking about how truly enslaved I am to my electronic devices, especially my iPhone.

 

“Enslaved?  Really, Marissa?  That’s a little overboard.”

 

But think about it . . .

 

  • Can you go out to lunch with a friend for an hour, put your phone in your purse on silent and not even think about checking it?  Or do you worry that your husband might need something or your kid might puke at preschool?

 

  • Can you wait until you get ALL THE WAY home to check that text message, or do you grab your phone at the stoplight?  And of course, once you’ve read it, can you really keep that person waiting 20 minutes until you reply?

 

  • Can you leave your phone in the car while you take your kids to the park?  Or do you need something to entertain you while you sit on a bench or push them on the swings?  (Of course, if you just got a text, they will have to wait for that push.  You can’t push and text.  I’ve tried.)

 

  • How many times have you jumped up from reading a book to your kids because your phone summoned you with it’s little chime?

 

A week ago, my answers to these questions were embarrassing.  My eyes have been opened to my need for constant communication, my desire for interaction and entertainment, and the pressure I feel to be accessible to everyone at every moment.  And my kids are paying the price.

 

If you are my age or older, you remember a time when we all had those devices with the spiral cords hanging on our walls at home.  They didn’t have answering machines or call waiting or caller ID.  If you wanted to talk to someone, and they were at the grocery store or outside getting their mail or already talking to someone else, you had to call back later.

 

My mom never worried that the world might fall apart while she was at the grocery store.  She never had to make a decision about who was more important:  the person she was already talking to, or the person calling in on call-waiting.  When she took me to the park, she wasn’t checking Facebook or playing Words With Friends.  She didn’t have a contact list of hundreds of interesting people she could chat with while she drove me around town.

 

I’m planning a throw-back to 1982, y’all.  My kids deserve my full attention, and I don’t want to miss out on these years that they actually want to talk or play with me.  I refuse to let this little screen rule my life.

 

Stay tuned for my iPhone detox plan . . .

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Masks

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A friend sent an email awhile ago, asking a group of women about what type of masks women wear.  I’ve been thinking about this for awhile.  I think there is the obvious mask:  the Martha-Stewart, perfectly-dressed-with-perfectly-dressed-kids, have-it-all-together mom.  When you’re wearing this mask, you don’t want anyone to see any weakness or failure as you oversee the school fundraiser while cooking a three-course meal in your spotless kitchen and patiently serving as referee for your children’s bi-weekly disagreement over which one gets to take out the trash for you.

 

I think moms also wear the “I’m so obviously overwhelmed and stressed out that you shouldn’t expect anything from me” mask.  The purpose of this mask is to make sure everyone sees your shortcomings, so no one would ever ask you to plan the school fundraiser . . . after all, you can’t even dress your entire family before leaving the house.  This mask isn’t nearly as glamorous as the first, but I know I’ve pulled it out a time or two when the perfection mask wasn’t gonna happen.

 

There are probably other masks that we wear and variations of these.  We all have our strengths and take on specific roles in our group of friends.  If you are the organized one, you don’t want anyone to see your disorganized closet.  If you are the phenomenal cook, you’d hate for anyone to know that your kids are having mac’n’cheese from the box for dinner (again).  If you are the theologian, you must have an answer for every problem, complete with at least three memorized Scripture references.  If you are the social butterfly, you hope no one ever finds out how lonely you feel most of the time.

 

In true friendships, especially in the church, I have seen a push to take off those masks.  It’s trendy to be genuine and vulnerable.  And I think we peek out from behind them with those friends we can trust.  But lately I’ve been realizing how much my mask is still on, even when I think I’m being real.

 

Truly taking off your mask does not mean laughing with your mommy-friends about how frustrated you got with your kid yesterday or how annoying your husband can be.  Taking off your mask means pouring out your heart, probably with tears, about how you have no idea what to do with that child and how scared you are about where it’s all heading.  It means admitting your marriage is on rocky ground, no matter how many times you smile and grab your husband’s hand on your way into church.  Sharing your shortcomings so that people find you approachable and witty is just trading one mask for another.

 

So my question to my sisters in Christ is, when was the last time you were real with someone?  Not fake-real, not witty-real, not I’m-down-to-earth-but-I-hope-you-still-admire-me real.  Because the bottom line is that we all need the Gospel.  We all need to be reminded on a daily basis that Christ is enough and we are not.  If we are willing to share with our friends that we aren’t measuring up, they can remind us that Christ already attained perfection on our behalf.  His perfect record has been given to us by God’s grace, so we are free to be the screw-ups that we are.

 

When I admit my ugliest failures to my friends, it is an opportunity for them to preach the Gospel to me.  And when they admit their failures to me, I can do the same for them.  It might not be pretty or fun, but it is covered in God’s grace.  That is genuine, mask-less community.

 

Now, who wants to meet me for coffee and take off some masks?

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