Parenting for Life

I once thought that parenthood was a season of life that began with the conception of my first kid and concluded with the last kid rolling off the payroll.  Throughout their childhoods, their troubles and triumphs were my troubles and triumphs and I expected all of that to quickly fade from view as they flew the coop to establish their own lives.  Turns out I was way, way off.  

Throughout college and into their 20's, my kids' troubles continued to be my troubles.  (I guess I should say our troubles since I am, after all, only half of this parenting team- Michele did occasionally help along the way).  Not only did we continue to carry their troubles, we could no longer swoop in and try to save the day.  What a helpless and humbling feeling that was... if it took faith in God to raise them from birth to graduation, I soon realized it was going to take a lot more faith to sit back and watch them stumble into adulthood without my brilliant guidance!

"Empty Nest" has so many connotations.  To some, it's like making parole and walking out of prison into new life as a free citizen.  To others, it's a melancholy season of adjustment to empty bedrooms and emptier calendars.  I could have predicted that I would tend toward the latter but not to such an extreme.  Before I even met Michele, I was "all in" for the parenting gig- prepared to leave nothing on the table.  Turns out she was cut from the same cloth.  I guess that explains how we first decided we were soul-mates.  

At 22, we had both signed on for a summer at Pine Cove Christian Camp in east Texas. Michele directed about a dozen high-school girls in keeping the adult camp ship-shape.  I was across the creek being the program director for the high school camp.  It wasn't love at first sight (I was never very smooth on my feet with the fairer sex) but we eventually came to recognize our common heart for God, each other and for kids.  To no surprise, we have been invested in high-schoolers for most of the 34 years that we've known each other.  (This apparently comes natural for me since Michele says I'm still a kid myself).  

As we transitioned into parenting, we felt like we were doing what we were made to do.  As I see it, we have never collaborated toward a greater achievement.  But despite all warnings, I navigated that passage without ever considering an exit strategy.  Inevitably, the drastic shift from a family of five to a family of two knocked me off my feet for more than a few years.  

While one of my sons was once home from spring break, I asked him what he had become passionate about over recent years.  To my surprise, he had a pretty good take on himself.  But then he shot back, "so Dad,  what are you passionate about?"  I don't know that he meant to drop a bomb and thankfully, he eased back into chit-chat without waiting for an answer.  But five minutes later, I was having an internal meltdown.  What was I passionate about? (Think, man!  You need to answer this as smoothly as if it was your morning mantra.)  I kept trying to articulate a rational response to the question but the only answer I could think of was parenting.  Not a good prognosis for an empty-nester.  My son may or may not have known what a wake-up call he had slammed me with but that's exactly what it was.  Unless I intended to spend the back half of my life looking through high school yearbooks and gazing at T-ball trophies, I needed to do some soul-searching.  

Like pulling old toys out of the attic, I began to recall what I wanted my life to be about before I had gotten swept into the deep water.  It was harder than I expected to re-connect with the "me" who was pre-parent and pre-husband but gradually, I began to re-stoke the embers of some old and familiar yearnings of two decades prior.  As a result, I've slowly adjusted my compass and reset my course.  An important part of that transition was grieving the end of my most fulfilling season of life thus far.  Although I didn't start wearing a gold chain and loosening the top buttons on my shirt, I can say in retrospect that this was most certainly my mid-life crisis.

But then, a funny thing happened.  Whenever one or more of our kids came home, I noticed they still called me "Dad".  I was perplexed.  Just when I was ready to relinquish that cherished title, I was having deja vu.  My pendulum had swung from "all in" to "has-been".  Now I was beginning to realize that the truth was somewhere in between.  

And that, my friend, is something they never told us about in Parent School (you took that course, didn't you?).  Not only was I having this epiphany, I surveyed the landscape and was surprised to discover that virtually nobody was talking about this idea of what an empty-nest Dad or Mom might/could/should look like.  The engineering part of me likes a user's guide that I can trust to lead me safely through a project and lower my chances of error but in this scenario, all the puzzle pieces had been dumped on the floor and I was going to have to go "off-road".  

Fast-forward ten years.  In that time, we've lived through three graduations, two weddings, and a grandson in a pear tree!  What Michele and I have discovered over this decade was a sweet surprise to both of us.  There is an ongoing parenting role for those who desire it, whose kids are somewhat receptive and who know better than to attempt it without guidance from the Expert.  

What you should be asking by now is what qualifies me to write about this and what value is it to you to read it?  Well, I'm glad you asked.  I would have to say that there was a 'perfect storm' of factors that set me up to put pen to paper (er, fingers to keyboard).  That would include a wise wife (who'da thunk it?), a good foundation with our kids from early on, a fair number of blunders along the way (read on for the "what not to do" pointers),  other parents who modeled this skill for us and, most certainly, a good measure of God's grace.  Did you hear that last one?  Lest you missed it, listen to John 15 where the Shepherd said, "Apart from me, you can do nothing".  No false humility on that point.  It still perplexes me to watch Godly, skillful parents produce a prodigal son or daughter and conversely, to see amazingly God-ward children emerge from dysfunctional and/or non-Christian families.

Maybe you're an empty-nest parent like me.  Perhaps you've still got one or more children on the payroll but they're beginning to flap their wings a bit (some sooner than others!).  Or maybe you've still got little ones who can't imagine why anyone would ever want to leave the nest.  The same good news applies to all:  not only do we continue to be parents on the back end but that may just be the best cut of meat in the deli.