Seashell Assumptions

broken-shell
sea shell skeleton (c) Carole Sparks

We wandered down the beach in the early light, the first to imprint the sand with our feet that morning. We stopped with almost every step, scanning the sand for seashells. The sand was much further away for me than for my four-year-old. I was selective, only making the effort to bend over if I saw exceptional colors on perfectly formed shells. She wasn’t so selective. “Look at this one, Mama!” she said for the forty-seventh time in ten minutes. More often than not, “this one” was dirt brown and broken, well on its way to becoming sand.

“Oh, throw that one back. It’s not beautiful,” I told her more than once. “Look at this one, how perfect it is, how nice the colors are.”

“But I like it.” She looked a little sad. “It’s interesting. Look how you can see the inside—all the spaces. I think this is beautiful, too.”

An objection formed on my month but didn’t escape my lips. What was I teaching my child by insisting that “beautiful” and “perfect” or “whole” were the same thing? What did that assumption imply about people? Surely, I didn’t think the only beautiful people were those considered whole, attractive, and pristine in the world’s eyes!

I didn’t mean to teach my child that, but I was.

She saw the woman in the wheelchair at the grocery store. She saw the burned man at the next table in the restaurant. She saw the homeless man wandering down the street, talking to himself as I drove past him. I valued such people—ones the world might consider broken—and knew they were loved. I tried to show respect when I could. But such people weren’t part of our everyday experience any more than walks on the beach, so we hadn’t really talked about it. By rejecting the broken shells, I implied that some things (maybe even people) were more valuable than others because of their appearance. I knew I needed to correct myself before my daughter subconsciously acquired my tainted values.

I squatted down beside her and held out my hand to receive the broken shell. She ran down to wash it off in the water before placing it carefully in my palm. It was beautiful: intricate structure and shades of color that revealed a Creator much more clearly than the smooth outer surface of my “perfect” shells ever could, but it also, through its brokenness, told a story, and even though I didn’t know the story, I knew it was a beautiful story.

The Scriptures say we are each woven together in our mothers’ wombs (Psalm 139), that He has plans for each of our lives (Jeremiah 29:11), and that he values us above everything else He created (Matthew 6:25-34). We easily apply these Truths to ourselves but find it more difficult to apply the same standards to others. If I want to live out the Word of God in my own life and as a parent, I must believe these verses are true for every person, regardless of their outward appearance, not just for me as the reader. Then I must intentionally lead my children to believe the same thing.

All of us have prejudices (or at least assumptions). They are part of our sin-tainted worldviews, sometimes buried so deep we don’t even realize they are there. The challenge comes in discovering them because they are so deeply ingrained. With intentional parenting, God calls us to lay bare those assumptions and purge them from our lives and our words before we unwittingly implant them in our children’s minds.

Throw back the broken ones? No, they’re beautiful too, just like people. (click to tweet)

What have you taught your kids without realizing it? What assumptions have colored your conversations so that you had to correct them later? I know I’m not alone in this. Please share!

**A shorter version of this story appeared on Just18Summers in March 2018.**

 

 

Mistakes Made & Lessons Learned (guest post)

I'm pleased to host fellow Bible study writer and Mom, Emily Wickham, today. I
think you'll find her insights helpful, and I pray that her encouragement blesses
you like it has blessed me since the first time I met her! Read more about Emily
at the end of the post.

By faith, Moses, when he was born, was hidden for three months by his parents, because they saw he was a beautiful child; and they were not afraid of the king’s edict. Hebrews 11:23 NASB

I don’t know about you, but I’ve made many mistakes as a mom—especially when my children were young.  Tiredness, selfishness, and fear top my list as reasons why failures occurred. As I reflect on those years, I’m thankful for God’s boundless supply of grace as described in 2 Corinthians 12:9, “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness.” God’s grace redeems my mistakes into future opportunities for me to rely on Him and become more Christlike.

I wish I’d been more intentional as a young mom about seeking God’s help. Even so, God continues to grow me in this area. His grace flows into my regrets, washing away the past and renewing my mind today.

A couple of lessons from Jochebed’s life inspire me, and I’m hopeful these parenting tools will encourage you as well. As we implement the truths God reveals to us, He’ll show us more ways to please Him. The Lord doesn’t expect us to parent perfectly—He calls us to parent biblically as He teaches us His ways. (Click to Tweet)

Lesson #1: Jochebed and her husband lacked fear.

They hid their son rather than killing him according to Pharaoh’s order. I’m wowed by their fearlessness because I recognize how fear has hindered my mothering. I haven’t always realized its presence, but it has stretched its gnarly fingers into numerous aspects of my mom-identity. Perhaps its chief influence involved a repeated whisper that I’m just not a good mom, a lie from which God has delivered me. While Moses’s parents lacked fear from outward threats, I’ve battled fears from within.

Lesson #2: Jochebed acted wisely.

Rather than allowing her emotions to rule, she calmly prepared a waterproof basket for her baby son. Carefully she placed it in an area where the Pharaoh’s daughter bathed, leaving her daughter, Miriam, to offer the princess a nursemaid—Jochebed herself! Just as Moses’s mother received wisdom from God, we can gain its benefit today.

If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask of God, who gives to all men generously and without reproach, and it will be given to him. James 1:5

Instead of facing our motherhood challenges with feelings of incompetence, we should call on the Lord for wisdom. He’s available for every need, every challenge, and every crisis. He freely provides without criticizing our parenting deficiencies.

Friend, wherever we are on our parenting journeys, God walks beside us. We’ve no reason to fear because He holds our hands, and He kindly gives wisdom when we ask. Let’s allow His sufficiency to impact the way we parent here and now. Though we can’t undo our past mistakes, we can rely on God’s grace to succeed in the present.

            Loving Father,

            You are fearless and wise. I confess sometimes I’ve allowed fear and feelings of incompetence to affect my parenting actions, but I thank You for Your grace along the way. Please replace my weaknesses as a mom with Your strength. In Jesus’ mighty name, amen.

Jochebed (Moses’ mother): bold, faithful parenting in the midst of difficult circumstances. (click to tweet)

Carole here. Isn't she great? (I also thought it was nice that she wrote about
Jochedbed because I recently wrote about her myself--for a guest post!) If you
were blessed or have a response for Emily, please leave a note in the comments
or connect with her directly through any of her social media links below. Be
sure to follow and/or "like" her, too.

emily-wickham-head-shotPassionate about stirring hearts toward Jesus, Emily Wickham writes for Journey Magazine, blogs at www.proclaiminghimtowomen.com, and contributes material to ZMI Family Ministries International. A Bible study author and speaker, she welcomes connection via Facebook, Twitter, and e-mail. Emily, grateful to God for His Son, lives with her husband and children in North Carolina.