This article is part of Rooted Revisited, where we pick up conversations from the Planting Roots archives and keep them going. Visit the Substack
I was caught by a recent article by Muriel Gregory, “Shaped by Our Scars,” in which she discusses the difficulty of parenting an adult child who has acquired scars from something difficult she has walked through. What has complicated the event is that Muriel was too far away due to a PCS to physically comfort her daughter. Muriel then explains to her daughter that this life leaves scars on us, but we have a Savior who comforts us, removes our shame, and continues to give us hope in who He is and what He has already done on our behalf.
As I read the short article, it stirred so many thoughts in my own heart toward the military, parenting, and how life can provide so many opportunities for scars, not only physically, but also emotionally and spiritually.
Let’s be honest, parenting is difficult. I sometimes observe other families and think, “Did anyone else get a group of assertive, non-conformists for kids?” Every day, I have to remind at least one child that I am the adult and they live in my home. Although I do not have adult children, due to infertility and adoption, my children are very spread out. I have one in preschool, another in elementary school, and a third in middle school. On a daily basis, we have someone having a tantrum and another debating or arguing. Nothing seems to go smoothly. All of this is normal developmentally for where each child is at, but it doesn’t mean it is any less taxing on my husband and me as parents.
To add to the craziness, our family has recently gone back to homeschooling. So, the mental load of switching back and forth between algebra, second-grade coursework, and a foreign language is exhausting for me as the teacher. Many military families opt for this dynamic to create continuity in their children’s education when everything else in their lives feels fluid.
To complicate this dynamic, my husband has an MOS that moves us frequently, causing feelings of displacement and having to rebuild community often. For instance, last month, our oldest son struggled to find any kids that he enjoyed, and once he found a friend, we soon parted ways.
As Muriel taught me in her piece, we as parents deeply desire to be the ones to comfort, to heal the scar, but what if, as parents, we were just meant to be the safe space to process and we were never meant to be the one to bring the ultimate healing? What if we cannot bandage every cut or scrape or heal every scar?
My kids are going to leave my home scarred. Whether or not we move again as a military family. Whether or not I am a good homeschool teacher. I know this because I know my husband and I are not perfect parents. I know this because we live in a fallen world. I cannot force other children to befriend mine. I will not find the perfect homeschool curriculum or community. I cannot alleviate the burden of changing communities or homes on my kids.
The temptation is to make life perfect and easy for my kids. They already experience so many things that civilian kiddos don’t; I want to ease the burden and pressure on them. In doing this, I remove their ability to learn how to cope and take their problems and feelings to a Savior who loves them more than I ever will.
So, what does it look like to ultimately point my kids to the One who heals and restores? What does it look like to give my kids over and stop trying to orchestrate every friendship, PCS timing, or homeschool curriculum?
Well, first, I can help them develop an understanding of who they are in Christ. My job is to create an atmosphere conducive for learning the Bible and helping the word be sown into their hearts. I remind my kids often that they are “created in the image of God.” When they feel distraught over their physical appearance, they “are fearfully and wonderfully made.” God created them for “good works” that were prepared in advance for them to do.
My kids have emotions just like we do as adults. I have to remind my kids that emotions are real but may not be the truth. My job as their parent is to listen, create a safe space for them to share, and comfort; however, I need to take them to the Chief Comforter and Healer. Then, I am able to model my own dependence on the Comforter. There are so many days when I feel frustrated by the chaos, the messes, or the kid I cannot really control. So, in the midst of the crazy, sometimes with tears, I am real, and I pray aloud for my children to hear an imperfect mom who needs to be comforted too. Who needs her Heavenly Father to tame her emotions and allow His Spirit to remind her of His Truth. I teach my kids through my own dependence on God. His Word says, “His mercies are new every morning and great is His faithfulness.” I remind myself of this truth Jeremiah penned in the midst of tragedy, and I remember that His mercy is big enough for my day.
When worry about circumstances and children surfaces, I remind myself that my worry will not change the scenario or the problem my child is facing. Can worrying add a single hour to our lives? No, it increases my anxiety and produces chemical reactions within me, hurting my body. There’s probably an argument that worrying could take away an hour of our life … my job is not to worry or necessarily fix, but to get on my knees and pray over and through the situation, asking God for His wisdom concerning all that is happening.
So, although my children are still under my roof and I have many more years before we are empty nesters, I am reminded once again to hold this life loosely. To recognize that in this life we will have trouble, but I am to “take heart because [Christ] overcame the world.” He is the loving Savior who redeemed us. He took on our sin and shame, so we could be healed and so can our children.
Returning back to Muriel’s story, I’m reminded that the amazing thing about scars is that each scar has a story behind it. My 40-year-old body has some scars from being hurt and other scars from silly accidents. We determine how we will allow those scars to impact our lives. The stories we tell. As parents, and especially as military parents, it is our job to create the foundation and framework for our children to live their lives in a way that not only honors God but also always points them back to Him. He gives us identity and purpose. He is the healer. He is the restorer, and He can take the pain of the past and give it purpose in the future. Muriel’s daughter needed the same reminder I’m learning to give my own kids.