“Will he hate me?” I have asked myself that question before. More times than I would like to admit. It usually comes after some encounter with Jax or one of my other kids, when I’ve had to discipline, correct, or prod them. In the moment, I fear they don’t get what I am trying to do. I fear they don’t understand my motivation and explanations. So, my fear moves to the idea that the ill feelings they have toward me in the moment may extend for a lifetime.

Parenting is an enormous responsibility. In my Christian worldview, I believe when God gives us the beautiful gift of a child, he also gives the responsibility to protect, provide for, love, and mold that child. We are stewards of this gift and have a responsibility to steward well. All these aspects of parenting are difficult, but I find the molding part the most difficult and most fearful.

I like the analogy of parenting being like a potter with his clay. Similar analogies are recorded in the Bible about our relationship with God. I suppose the advantage God has in this is that He is perfect and I am not.

And in my imperfection, I can mess the clay up. 

If I don’t hold it just right, it can literally fly off the wheel. If I apply too much pressure, I can crush it irreparably. If I don’t apply enough pressure, it will never become the beautiful thing I envision.  All the while, the clay (my child) is wondering why I am doing any of this to him.

The Clay says: I’ve been slammed onto a hard, spinning wheel.
I’m flying around out of control. Under pressure,
I am being squashed and squeezed and I know a fire lies ahead.

The Potter says. Carefully I threw you onto just the right spot.
Your imperfections are being smoothed as you spin by my loving pressure of my hands.
I am holding you and mounding you. Proud and pleased with my creation.
And the fire that lies ahead will only enhance your beauty.
– Author Unknown

 I mentioned in last week’s post the difficulties of teaching Jax to ride his bike. Let me paraphrase a conversation I had with him on the bike path during a lesson.

Me: Let’s give it a try.

Jax: I’m too scared.

Me: What are you scared of? Do you think I would ask you to do something that would seriously hurt you? Do you not think I can protect you?

Jax (now crying): I don’t know why I’m scared. I can’t explain it. 

At this point, I went on a 5-minute motivational speech about how I believed in him and how life requires hard work and taking risks and overcoming fear. I shared examples in my own life and reminded him of his successes so far in life. I asked him to look forward to him in college and having a career. He stared at me through his tear-filled eyes, listening and occasionally nodding. But, he wasn’t getting on the bike!

Jax: Can I make a deal with you?

Me: What’s your deal?

Jax: Can I promise you that when I’m ready to learn to ride my bike, I’ll tell you and we can start practicing then? I’m just not ready right now.

Me: Ok, we can go with your deal. But if we do, your mom and I are no longer going to cover for you with your friends. If they come and want you to go ride with them, we are just going to tell them you don’t know how. Or if your sister decides she wants to learn, we are going to teach her and that may mean she is riding before you. Just because you aren’t ready, doesn’t mean the rest of the world slows down and waits for you.

Jax (getting on the bike crying uncontrollably): I don’t want that!

This was one of those moments when I asked myself if he was going to hate me someday. I am his dad, his protector. I am the guy he is supposed to run to for safety. And I just told him, in so many words, I wasn’t going to protect him on this anymore.

You may get embarrassed. You may get ridiculed. And I’m going to let it happen.

My motivation was to encourage him to want to try, to realize that this was a situation where he was going to have to step up and take on the challenge because no one was going to protect him from the consequences.

All the while I am wondering if I am destroying my clay pot. Will he remember this day on the bike path and hate me for it? Will he resent me for seemingly not protecting him or sympathizing with his fears? Will his takeaway be that I simply don’t care about his fears and that I am bullying him with ultimatums?

Every day as parents we have dozens of similar encounters with our children. We make split second decisions on when and how hard we are going to push them, having no idea what the ramifications of our decisions is going to be.

For me, herein lies the fear. Because we aren’t dealing with a lump of clay that is easily tossed away and replaced. We are dealing with a human life. We are dealing with a future legacy.

I don’t really have an answer for this fear. I don’t have an inspirational story of how it all turns out well. My oldest child is nine. I have a LONG way to go before he is even close to a finished project.

I can tell you that I rely on God’s grace daily. I pray he will fix any damage I’ve done when I’ve pushed too hard. And I pray He will continually grant me wisdom to do better next time. I want, despite my fears and imperfections, to be a good steward.

I want to steward my son’s legacy well until he can steward it on his own.