Let your Children Fall

 

 

Kate Baker, in a recent blog post, describes her unique struggle as a parent on the playground. She makes a simple request of other parents at the park:

Please don’t help my kids

 

 

“I am not sitting here, 15 whole feet away from my kids, because I am
too lazy to get up. I am sitting here because I didn’t bring them to the
park so they could learn how to manipulate others into doing the hard
work for them. I brought them here so they could learn to do it
themselves.

They’re not here to be at the top of the ladder; they are here to
learn to climb. If they can’t do it on their own, they will survive the
disappointment. What’s more, they will have a goal and the incentive to
work to achieve it.

In the meantime, they can use the stairs. I want them to tire of
their own limitations and decide to push past them and put in the effort
to make that happen without any help from me.

It is not my job — and it is certainly not yours — to prevent my
children from feeling frustration, fear, or discomfort. If I do, I have
robbed them of the opportunity to learn that those things are not the
end of the world, and can be overcome or used to their advantage…

…I want my girls to know the exhilaration of overcoming fear and doubt and achieving a hard-won success. 

I want them to believe in their own abilities and be confident and determined in their actions. 

I want them to accept their limitations until they can figure out a way past them on their own significant power.

I want them to feel capable of making their own decisions, developing
their own skills, taking their own risks, and coping with their own
feelings.

I want them to climb that ladder without any help, however well-intentioned, from you.

Because they can. I know it. And if I give them a little space, they will soon know it, too.

So I’ll thank you to stand back and let me do my job, here, which
consists mostly of resisting the very same impulses you are indulging,
and biting my tongue when I want to yell, “BE CAREFUL,” and choosing,
deliberately, painfully, repeatedly, to stand back instead of rush
forward.


Because, as they grow up, the ladders will only get taller, and
scarier, and much more difficult to climb. And I don’t know about you,
but I’d rather help them learn the skills they’ll need to navigate them
now, while a misstep means a bumped head or scraped knee that can be
healed with a kiss, while the most difficult of hills can be conquered
by chanting, “I think I can, I think I can”, and while those 15 whole
feet between us still feels, to them, like I’m much too far away.”

 

Have you ever felt this way as a parent?

Honestly, I have yet to experience this – which is why I am glad to read Baker’s perspective. It is a profound joy for me to help my daughter in any way that I can.

But she is 6 months old. Eventually, I will have to take a step back and let my daughter fail or fall. I expect that to be more painful for myself than for my daughter.

 

The Fundamental Difference

There’s no way to be sure from this article, but the impression I receive is that the chief end of this exercise for Baker is her daughter’s self-esteem and strength. This is not an inherently evil motive. But it is not enough.

You see, no amount of self-esteem or strength will help my daughter through the trials and temptations of life. Only if she is living for the here and now, survival of the fittest, be the best you can be (etc.), will these character traits pay off in the end.

The fundamental difference is that children must gain healthy independence from mom and dad, but must also be nurtured in necessary, total dependence on Jesus. Without this, we will raise a generation of confident, strong lost girls and boys. Without dependence on Jesus, children are destined to discover and embrace a world of self interest. Without dependence on Jesus, our children will learn to trust no one but themselves.

So let your children fall and fail. But whether in the home, on the play ground, or at summer camp, make sure there are Christian mentors to comfort them when they fall, and point them to the God of All Comfort when it hurts. Point them to the only One who loved them just as they were – failures before God’s standard – and teach them to rest in the perfect success of Jesus on their behalf when they fail.

A Personal Challenge

So parents, if you see me on the play ground with my daughter, remind me not to help too much – for her own good. But also remind me that it’s for my own good to let her fall, and to rest and trust in Jesus when I fall and fail as a parent.