Parenting the Weight of Glory

This past Friday I took Matthew to OMSI (Oregon Museum of Science and Industry). Before we went, I sat him down and had a little talk. Lately, Matthew has been pushing other kids. I think part of it is my fault because I have been wrestling with him. The other part is that he pushes as a response when another kid messes with him. Messing with Matthew usually means taking a toy that he was playing with. so, before we went on Friday, I say him down and told him, "No pushing."

Well, we started out having a great time for about an hour and a half. Then, some kid tried to take stuff he was playing with, and, guess way? He pushed the kid. In fact he pushed him so hard that the kid fell backwards and hit his head. I grabbed Matthew right away, made him say "sorry" to the kid he pushed, and told him in no uncertain terms that if he pushed again, we were leaving. Again, he did well for about twenty minutes, and then, when a kid tried to take his blocks, he pushed him. I took Matthew's hand and said that we were leaving. He was devastated. He cried and cried. I don't think his crying was because he was complaining, or even that he thought it was unfair. I think he was just so, so sad that he had to leave.

I remember one time when I was a kid (somewhere between 5 and 8, I don't know how old for sure). I was in an awnry mood and having a lot of run-ins with my mom. I was exerted my will by slamming doors, and she told me that if I slammed one more door, I would get no dinner and have to stay in my room. Later on, I slammed another door. I hadn't thought about it, and as soon as I did it, I regretted it. My mom told me that I would have to stay in my room and miss dinner, and I was absolutely crushed. I was heartbroken. I cried pretty much the whole time from when it happened until dinner was over. I wasn't crying because I thought it was unfair. I was just sad. I remember my mom coming into my room and sympathizing with me (very genuinely), but not backing down. By the way, Mom, if you are reading this, I thought you really did great.

This event from my youth related to this last one with Matthew. Normally when he cries I tell him to cut it out after a while. I want him to move on. This time I didn't do that. As difficult as it was, and it was really difficult, I just let him cry as long as he wanted to. The car ride home was painful. There were a couple of times that I whelled up. It was the first time that I really remember being heartbroken over having to discipline my child. He cried and cried. He was so sad.

The reason I let Matthew cry because I wanted him to feel the weight of his decision. I wanted him to remember how sad he was at having to leave, and I hoped that this might help him to want not to push anyone. I wanted him to experience that his decisions have real weight to them, and that there are real consequences and results.

Some of you reading this might think this was the wrong move. I guess it might have been. Parenting is tough. At the same time I don't regret doing it because I think it is a powerful thing for us to learn and experience the weight of who we are. This is what C.S. Lewis was talking about in "The Weight of Glory." We are significant, each one of us. Our actions are incredibly important. So many times we feel like what we do doesn't matter, but it does.

I had to ask myself if I really wanted God to allow me to feel the weight of who I am. I kind of fear that. I want him to protect me from the consequences of my actions. And many times he does.

At the same time, I know that I do want to experience the weight of glory. I want my actions to matter. I want to experience the high stakes of life and death, heaven and hell, good and evil. It makes me nervous to even say that, but I know I do.

I hope I can walk with my son and help him to experience the weight of who he is. And I hope to seek to have my Father in heaven walk me through experiencing the weight of who I am.

P.S. New movie reviews up for The Departed, Flags of Our Fathers, and Pan's Labirynth.