First, let me say that nothing I am about to write even compares to what people in coastal Texas are going through as they prepare for Ike. It sounds like many of those who evacuate are almost guaranteed to lose their homes. Along with their livelihood, their sense of place, and their history. I am praying for you.

Now, on to my paling-in-comparison crisis:

Parenthood has been kicking my butt lately.

Specifically parenting Abby, our five-year-old. She’s still disruptive in class. And I have felt totally clueless on how to help her. Nothing we’ve tried, whether positive or negative, has worked. This has led to a knot of anxiety in my stomach.

After our parent-teacher conference yesterday, my helplessness in this area was totally revealed. And I finally gave it over to God. As usual, he came through. I’ll try to describe how:

Whenever we talked about her tantrums in class, Abby would say, “Momma, I know you’re disappointed in me.” Each time I’d respond with something like, “Yes, I am disappointed with your behavior. You need to do better. I love you and am very proud of you, but you do need to stop throwing fits.”

But when she said it last night as I tucked her into bed, something came to me:  My little girl thought I didn’t love her anymore. No matter how often I said that I still loved her, disappointed and love don’t go together in a five-year-old brain.

Oh. My. Gosh.

In that moment, these thoughts flooded my brain:

I used to think that God was disappointed with me when I sinned. But a few years ago, a wise person told me that God is never disappointed in us, because disappointment comes from unmet expectations. And God always knows what to expect. How can he be disappointed when he’s never surprised?

So how does that connect with my disappointment in Abby? Obviously, I’m not all-knowing, so I do get surprised and feel disappointed.

But I believe that my relationship with my children is their primary model for the parent-child relationship they’ll have with God later in life. So I’ve got to model how he loves us. I think that means I can’t use that word anymore. Or express it in any other way.

This time God gave me the words word to say.

When Abby asked if I was disappointed, I told her “no.” Just “no.” It was really unnatural not to follow that with “,but…” But I resisted. And I can’t begin to describe the relief that I saw on her face.

I know God’s not disappointed with me, but I still feel like a heel. He’s forgiven me. Now it’s time to do better.

From this point forward with Abby, I need to focus mostly on what she’s doing right in class. She knows what she’s doing wrong, and the teachers seem to be doing a great job helping her learn new coping skills. (I love them.)

My job will be to apply something I heard months ago from Jo Frost (of Supernanny fame) during a radio Q and A.

And Jo Frost? She was already my hero, but now she’s my superhero.

Bad joke. Sorry.

Ahem.

In response to a question about tantrums in a child too old to be having them, Jo said, “That sounds like emotional immaturity to me.” (Well, duh, I thought.)

But then she gave a solution that changed my parenting worldview (I don’t remember her exact words, but here’s a paraphrase):

“To help a child mature emotionally, give them more responsibility.”

Wow. Really? Wow.

So don’t focus on the tantrums themselves? Obviously, I need to discipline them in the moment. But according to Jo, the way to get a kid to stop throwing tantrums is not to lecture her about them. (Who knew?) It’s to structure her life so that she has more responsibility.

I guess the idea is that self-direction not only gives her a sense of mastery and confidence, but also increases her self-control. Okay, that makes sense. I’ll give it a try.

I woke up today feeling a lot better. Funny how a little hope can really clear the fog of anxiety.

I still don’t know each specific thing I need to do with Abby. But I know the first step. And since that’s usually all that God gives me in other areas of life, I need to consider it enough.

I’ll keep you posted.