Little Lane's Legacy

Parenting is hard.  Really hard.  And so we second guess ourselves, and our kids, and each other.  It’s hard to make all the right decisions, and to be vigilant every moment, and to know what to do, all the time.  The pressure can make us weary, and make us doubt ourselves, and even make us make mistakes.  I know I’m not the perfect parent, and I suspect you’ll admit that you aren’t, either.  So why?  Why on earth are we so hard on each other, and so quick to hurl judgments at each other?  It seems like lately, every time there is a news story about something happening to a child, it is quickly followed by a hateful flurry of social media condemning the parents, even if all the facts of the story are not yet known.

Today, my heart broke a little, as I read the story of the precious 2 year old little boy who lost his life in an alligator attack in Orlando.  This family was on vacation, at the most “magical place on earth”, enjoying a respite from “real life”.  And then “real life” came crashing in like an uninvited guest, destroying their days of magic, and changing their reality forever.  This child was simply wetting his tiny feet a little at the edge of the lake at their resort, with his parents close by.  He wasn’t being neglected, or abused, or mistreated.  He was just having fun.  And in a matter of seconds, his little body was snatched by an alligator, and even with his parents RIGHT THERE, they could not save him.  And joy turned to mourning, and laughter to tears.  The worst thing a parent can ever experience was now their reality.  And when they wake up tomorrow, and the next day, and the next month, and the next year, that reality will still be a wound in their hearts that won’t completely heal this side of heaven.  And that just breaks my heart.

But you know what else breaks my heart?  That these parents, in the midst of their worst nightmare, didn’t find comfort in the kindness of people, but were instead skewered on the sharp judgments of others, who weren’t even there.  Instead of compassion, they were met with hatred.  In perusing some of the comments from readers on various news sites, my stomach turned.  The parents were called all sorts of names that I won’t repeat here, some called for their arrest, and much venom was spewed as this tragedy was discussed.  Thankfully, there were others who spoke with kindness, but the number of people who spoke hatefully was quite significant.  And, unfortunately, this doesn’t seem to be an isolated incident.  If you’ve followed the story of the little boy who fell into the gorilla enclosure at the zoo in Cincinnati last month, you’ve probably seen even worse, even though that story ended with the child being safely rescued (although at the cost of the gorilla’s life).  I think these are simply symptomatic of the kind of world we have built…where judgment prevails over mercy and vitriol trumps compassion. 

So, let’s don’t let little Lane’s legacy be just alligator safety or more rules and regulations, but in his honor, let’s make the world just a little nicer.  Let’s pray for each other, instead of lord it over each other.  Let’s extend the hand of compassion instead of the pointing finger.  Let’s be quick to offer grace instead of fly to judgment.  Let’s think before we speak, and like Thumper from Bambi, “if you can’t say something nice, don’t say nothing at all.”

Just Yesterday...

I remember when, as a young mother, older women would repeatedly say, “Enjoy every moment…it goes so fast.” And inside, I would think, “Really? Because it seems like years since I had a full night’s sleep.” Not that I wasn’t enjoying every minute…but I sure was tired. Sometimes the days seemed long, when I was home all alone with three little ones needing every ounce of my attention and nurturing. Sometimes the nights seemed even longer. I never wished away the moments, although I did occasionally think “Okay, I am REALLY done with potty training now!” Sometimes the weeks seemed long, when my husband traveled on business and I tackled the parenting alone. Sometimes the seasons seemed long, when we entered a difficult phase with one of the children. But then something would happen to give me pause, like a baby learning to walk, a child losing his first tooth, or a kindergartener heading off to school, looking so grownup with their carefully chosen backpack on their back. And I’d think, “No, wait! It’s all going too fast!” And as each year passed, and my babies got older, it seemed that the calendar pages just started to fly. Soon we went from having one in school, to having three in homeschool. Overnight, it seemed, we went from being young parents with small children, to (gasp!) middle-aged parents with teenagers.

And today, we enter a new phase…that of parents to an adult. Eighteen years ago today, our precious firstborn entered the world and we became parents. I remember taking her home from the hospital and my husband and I looking at each other in disbelief that we were really solely responsible for this tiny little creature. Oh, and it couldn’t possibly be eighteen years ago…it was just yesterday, wasn’t it? It was just yesterday that we prayed desperate prayers that God would give us a child. It was just yesterday that she finally joined our family, the answer to a thousand prayers. It was just yesterday that she sang her way through our house, one minute being Cinderella and the next Snow White. It was just yesterday that she headed off to school and broke my heart when she came home with the oft-repeated phrase, “But, Mommy, Mrs. S. does it THIS way.” It was just yesterday when we pulled her out of school to continue educating her at home and we battled for a year before she became content with homeschooling. It had to be just yesterday when she fervently pledged her life to Christ and was baptized in our Jacuzzi tub. I’m certain that it was just yesterday when she started to grow into this lovely young woman who took my breath away when she danced. It was just yesterday when I saw her all decked out in a Civil War ball gown, with her hair in a beautiful updo and her makeup so perfect, heading off to the ball on her daddy’s arm. It was just yesterday that we began planning her future, with college choices and scholarship applications and late night talks about life and love. And now, here she stands, a beautiful young woman with a passionate heart and a determined outlook, ready to take those first steps into her adulthood. And I think my heart will overflow.

And now I know that those little old ladies were wise beyond measure…time really does fly and there is nothing we can do to slow it down. Those endless nights of rocking and feeding that tiny little baby will soon turn into late nights of waiting for your teenager to come home from work, and praying for her safety on the snow-covered streets. Those days of thinking you’ll never have an adult conversation again will soon turn into late night gabfests with your almost adult child. The carefree years of thinking they will always eat at your table, or be with you on vacation, or celebrate Christmas around your tree will all too soon be days of waving goodbye as she drives off to work, or watching proudly as he dons his cap and gown, or wiping away a tear as she walks down that aisle dressed in white to begin her life with another. You know what? The little old ladies were right.

So, as I celebrate my sweet girl today, I will be listening a little more closely, taking a little more time to just talk, and remembering each precious moment. And even as I grieve the “lasts”, I will be rejoicing in the satisfaction of watching a little girl grow into a woman who loves her family and her Lord and is ready to take those tentative first steps into the rest of her life. God be with you, my precious Molly. We are so proud of the lovely young lady you have become. You are a treasure and a gift, and your daddy and I will love you forever.

To read Molly's thoughts on turning eighteen...

A Legacy of Faithfulness - Part II

Recent statistics have shown that our children are abandoning their faith in record numbers after leaving home. One such study claims that 75-88% of children raised in Christian homes will leave their faith by the end of their freshman year in college. That number should terrify us and motivate us to reexamine what we are doing in our own homes to pass down a legacy of faith to our children. Obviously, we are failing our children in the most important aspect of parenting. So, what do we do? Do we just hope for the best and stumble blindly toward the finish line of parenting, hoping that they will “turn out okay”? We would never accept this answer if the question were our children’s education. We spend an incredible amount of time and money making sure they get the best possible education, and we spend countless hours (and dollars) taking them to dance classes, sports practices and music lessons to give them every advantage. Why, then, have we placed so little importance on their spiritual upbringing?

We are raising a generation of children who have no spiritual heritage. Because of this, we are sending them out into the world as easy prey for the one who seeks to destroy them. Even Karl Marx recognized this, saying, “A people without a heritage are easily persuaded.” We need to be giving our children a strong foundation for their faith, making sure they know what they believe, why they believe it, and that they are part of a legacy going back two thousand years to the birth of a Savior in a humble manger in Bethlehem. So, how does this happen?

God makes it clear to us in Deuteronomy 6 exactly how this is to take place. He says, “Hear, O Israel: The LORD our God, the LORD is one. Love the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength. These commandments that I give you today are to be on your hearts. Impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up. Tie them as symbols on your hands and bind them on your foreheads. Write them on the doorframes of your houses and on your gates.” God doesn’t say to casually impart His commandments to our children, or to take them to church once a week and hope that they somehow “catch” our faith. He says to impress them on our children. I looked up “impress” in the dictionary to get a better feel for what that word means. It means “to affect deeply or strongly in mind or feelings; to fix deeply or firmly on the mind or memory; and to urge, as something to be remembered or done.” To me, this implies something very purposeful and serious. First, God commands us to love Him completely; then, He commands us to pass on this command to our children. We should be teaching our children about Him at every opportunity, not just at church, or on Christmas and Easter. Talking about spiritual matters should permeate our days, including discussing such things at the dinner table, in the car on those many drives to baseball practice and in those heart-to-heart talks when their hearts are aching with hurt or frustration. When you read the newspaper at breakfast, talk about what you see in the world. Help them to recognize differences in worldview and how that affects what people see and believe. If we are not purposeful in making this happen, the years will fly by and our children will be gone…and possibly, so will their faith.

We also must be faithful in teaching them truth…that there is ONE truth, not many, and it comes from the Word of God. We must teach them to search Scripture to see if what they are being taught is true. We must make sure the education they are receiving is filled with truth, not lies. We must give them an appreciation for history and help them to recognize God’s hand of providence as they study stories of the past. As Os Guinness says, “Those who don’t know history have no sense of identity, and no sense of wisdom as they explore where they’re going to go. Without history, we’re lost!” Deuteronomy 32:7 tells us to “Remember the days of old; consider the generations long past. Ask your father and he will tell you, your elders, and they will explain to you.” We need to pass on stories of God’s faithful people and how they persevered through trials, often giving their lives rather than surrender their faith. We need to instill in them a passion for truth in doctrine, as well. The Nehemiah Institute released a study showing that less than 10% of churched teens have a true, Biblical worldview. The world is apparently doing a whole lot better job of instilling its worldview into our children than we are…and that is shameful.

As we raise our children, we need to be disciplining them in ways that are intended for long-term results, not short-term peace. Just as pacifying a screaming child with candy at the grocery store gives a short-term answer (we are no longer embarrassed!) but leads to long-term disaster (a disobedient child who learns they can get whatever they want by misbehaving), our “quick-fixes” in spiritual matters often fail as well. While the world teaches us that we should desire happy children, God teaches us that our goal should be holy children. Be purposeful and persevering in looking to the end goal, a young adult who is surrendered to God and to His will. Let’s give our children a sense of vision and a purpose much bigger than themselves. Let’s raise children who will change the world for God, not lose their faith the minute they are no longer under our supervision. Let’s pass down a legacy of faithfulness which will continue for a thousand generations. Let’s wake up and take responsibility for our families before it is too late.

What kind of legacy are you leaving your children?

“Know therefore that the LORD your God is God; he is the faithful God, keeping his covenant of love to a thousand generations of those who love him and keep his commandments.”
Deut. 7:9

A Legacy of Faithfulness - Part I

A few months ago, we threw a big celebration. The occasion was my parents’ fiftieth wedding anniversary and our goal was to host a party that was memorable, fun, and that honored my parents’ love for each other through the years. The party was in a 50’s theme, complete with poodle skirts and swing dancing. We performed a skit, showing memorable scenes of my parents’ fifty years together, which brought much laughter and maybe even a few tears to the family and friends gathered to honor this much-loved couple. While the party was tons of fun, we also had a message that we desperately hoped to convey.

In recent years, the idea of legacy has had a profound impact on my family. We have come to understand that God intends for us to do much more than raise our children to be successful adults. We believe that God calls us to pass down much more than life skills or money-making talents, inheritances or college funds; He calls us to pass on a legacy of godliness and devotion to His will. If we raise our children to be fiscally responsible and well-educated, we still may have failed. Even if we raise our children to be hard workers and popular with their peers, it still isn’t enough.

Over and over again in the Old Testament, God promises something to us. He promises His faithful love “to a thousand generations of those who love him and keep his commandments (Deut. 7:9).” This verse has had a profound impact on my family. We have begun praying for this blessing for our family, praying not just for our children, but for our grandchildren, and our great-grandchildren, and our great-great-grandchildren. We pray for this blessing for generations we will never meet, but hope to influence. My parents pray this prayer faithfully for their grandchildren and for their grandchildren’s grandchildren, knowing that the prayers they pray now will have profound influence on the generations to come, long after they are gone. Our family legacy that we pray desperately to pass on to our children is simple: we pray that they will serve God faithfully and passionately for a thousand generations. If we have have nothing material to give our children when we are gone, yet succeed in teaching them this, we will have succeeded beyond all measure.

As a young mother, I think my vision for my kids went something like this: “I hope to raise them to love God, be financially stable and well-educated.” Some days, it went like this: “I just hope to get this kid potty-trained before kindergarten.” Other days, I despaired of ever raising them right. The vision was cloudy and changeable, and often I lived my daily life without really thinking of a vision at all. Now, my vision for them is much, much bigger, and much clearer: “I pray that my kids will change the world. I pray my kids will have lots of kids themselves and teach them to change the world for Christ. I pray that my family will serve the Lord God faithfully for a thousand generations.” I have started a book that I hope will be passed down in our family for generations. It is called “The Metzger Family Standing Stones”, representing the idea that God set forth in the Old Testament of building monuments to remind the Israelites of what God had done for them. In this book, I plan to write stories of the Metzger family…stories of God’s provision, His faithfulness and His everlasting love. I envision reading these stories to my grandchildren someday, helping their parents to teach them of a very special legacy. We will record our family stories for future generations, so they can see exactly how God’s faithful love spans the generations.

My parents have begun a beautiful thing in their fifty years of marriage. They came to know Christ early in their married life, and as they grew in their love for Him, they passed on that desire to serve Him to their children. As we grew up, married and had children of our own, we, too, grew in our love for Him, and now we seek to pass on that legacy of love to our children. I am blessed beyond measure to have been given such a beginning, and I pray that my husband and I will be diligent and purposeful in passing on the torch of faithfulness to the next generation.

Becoming a Parent Who Prays - Praying for Our Children Part I

This summer, I am spending a lot of time studying the idea of being a parent who prays. My mother and I are teaching a class at church for mothers and grandmothers who desire to learn more about how to pray effectively for the children they love. As usual, we are the ones who are learning the most! My next few posts will be from materials put together as we teach this class…I pray it will be an encouragement to you and that it will inspire you to pray fervently for your children.

The first thing to understand is what God says about prayer. There are many verses in the Bible about prayer, which teach us how to pray, what to pray for, etc. He tells us to pray without ceasing (I Thess. 5:17), to not give up (Luke 18:1), and that nothing is impossible for Him (Luke 1:37). He also tells us that we have a helper to intercede for us (the Holy Spirit) when we are so upset or confused that we don’t even know what to pray. He gives us an example in Samuel, the Old Testament Prophet, who tells the people of Israel that it is actually a sin NOT to pray (I Samuel 12:23-24). My favorite hidden treasure that was uncovered in my studying, however, was the fact that God says He will answer even BEFORE we finish speaking (Isaiah 65:24). What a comfort to know that God is listening, He knows our needs even before we finish telling Him, and that He even helps us to be able to pray in our time of need.

So why is it important to pray for our children? If God knows what they need anyway, why does it matter whether or not we pray for them? I believe it does, indeed, matter. In fact, I would venture to say that it is our most effective parenting tool. I don’t know about you, but I can readily admit that I am not capable of being the perfect parent. I make mistakes, I lose my temper, I make wrong decisions all the time. The good news? There is a perfect parent who is waiting for us to ask for help, and when we ask, He promises He will answer. Instead of turning to the latest parenting “experts” (whose advice seems to change every few years!), we can turn to the real expert…the One who created our precious children and knows them better than we do. When we are struggling to figure out their behavior, or what makes them act the way they do, He already knows. And He is more than willing to guide us in our parenting…all we need to do is ask.

I also believe it is important to pray for our children because our prayers unleash the power of God in our children’s lives. When we are willing to admit our helplessness, we are becoming the vessel through which God’s power can act. It is a stepping out of the way so that God can work. Instead of blocking His power with our stubbornness or pride, we can humble ourselves and let His power and wisdom have their way in our children, and the results will be beautiful. How could we possibly know better than the very God who made every aspect of their character?

Another benefit of praying for our children is the effect our prayers have on Satan. If we are protecting our children in prayer, his power over their lives is lessened. By putting up this shield around them, we are freeing them to be able to make right choices and follow God’s will for their lives. We should remember that when we are praying for our children, we are actually doing battle for their very lives. Satan has determined to see them fail. He wants desperately to devour our children and keep their hearts from God. Don’t ever be fooled into thinking that your prayers are insignificant. While God has a good and perfect plan for your child’s life, Satan has an evil and devastating plan for them. Your prayers may be the weapon that keeps Satan from having his way with your child…what could be more motivating than that?

One of the beautiful blessings of being a praying parent is that God will also fill our hearts with peace as we trust His path for our children. We will be freed from the anxiety and unrest that comes with trying to control the lives of our children and keep them from all harm. Whenever I find myself worrying about a specific aspect of my child’s life (such as their health, or who they will marry), I remind myself that God already has it all worked out and that He loves them…even more than I do. What could be more reassuring than that?

Stealing Lexi's Hope

This summer, my youngest daughter participated in a two-week drama intensive camp. They met from 9 am to 5 pm each day, learning singing, acting and dancing skills, as well as rehearsing a Junior Broadway production of “Annie”, which they performed in two shows at a local theater. Lexi has long held a love for acting, singing and dancing, so this was a wonderful opportunity for her. She talked about it for weeks and was so excited when the first day finally arrived. She and I drove to the studio on the first morning, and as we walked in, I felt her excitement turn to apprehension. It quickly became apparent that almost all of these kids knew each other, and had acted with this theater group before. They loudly and wildly greeted each other, ignoring this tiny blonde newcomer. She clung to my hand, which Lexi almost never does, and I could tell that she was reluctant for me to leave. I, too, was having a hard time leaving, as this was really the first time I had turned her over to other people for any length of time (she has always been homeschooled) and it was very unusual for her to turn shy. She is my adventurous one, the one who makes friends quickly and has never looked back when you drop her off at dance class or Sunday school. Her out-of-character reluctance fed my own fears of leaving her with this group of strangers. I had grave misgivings as I finally left the building after the parents’ meeting. I confess, I cried all the way home.

On top of my anxiety about her sudden attack of shyness, I was worried about my daughter’s heart. I knew that they would be giving vocal and acting auditions this first day, and would learn their part by the end of that day’s camp. Lexi had very emphatically told me what part she wanted in the play…that of Lily St. Regis, the blonde bombshell scam artist who, along with her partner Rooster, tries to con Daddy Warbucks. She was most definitely not interested in being an orphan or even in the part of Annie, but had her very heart set on receiving this part. Being the practical and protective mom that I am, I tried to gently warn her that because she was the youngest age in the camp, and being especially tiny, she would probably not win an “adult” role, since they might not find it believable to have the role of Lily played by someone shorter than most of the orphans. I knew she had the ability to play any role in the play, but knew that physical appearance often plays a major role in determining who fits each character. She assured me that she could win it, and I again argued with her that it would be fun no matter which role she received and to not have her heart set on any particular role. I was so afraid that she would be disappointed, and pictured her tears upon receiving an “orphan” role. We discussed this many times over the days preceding her camp, and I tried in vain to dissuade her from expecting the part of Lily. The day of her audition, I was a nervous wreck. I kept picturing her sad little face as I left her at camp, and prayed continually for her audition and for her response when she found out what role she had been assigned.

Later that afternoon, as my son and I drove to pick her up, I worried out loud about how she was doing, and how she had handled the auditions and role assignments. Had she cried when I wasn’t there to comfort her? Was her heart broken? Had she made any friends at all in this group of kids who seemed to not even notice her? Upon arriving at the studio, we walked in to hear a conversation between one of the mothers and one of the women who worked there (who also had a child in the camp). The mother asked the camp worker how the kids had done when the parts were announced. The camp worker replied, “There were quite a few tears.” My heart twinged as the mother asked, “Was it mine?” The worker laughingly replied that it was mostly hers, who as an “experienced” camper expected to waltz in and get a leading role without much effort. She said that many of the kids who had participated before were surprised to be cast in smaller roles, thinking that they deserved all the best parts. Then she went on to say that there were a couple of new kids who had come in and wowed the judges with their auditions. She continued talking about one in particular, who she called this “tiny little blonde thing” who came in and asked to audition for Lily and then stunned the judges by reading the role with a hilarious Brooklyn accent. The worker said they were falling out of their seats laughing and knew immediately that she should have the part. Noah tugged on my sleeve and whispered, “It’s Lex, Mom”. My heart began to pound and I waited anxiously for Lexi to come out. As she entered the lobby where we were waiting, she looked downcast and wouldn’t meet my eyes. She said, “Let’s go, Mom.” I was pretty sure she was faking, but anxiously followed her to the car. She slowly buckled herself in and waited until I finally said, “Don’t keep me in suspense…I’ve been waiting all day!!!” She sighed deeply and said, “Well, I really had my heart set on the part of Lily…and THAT’S WHAT I GOT!” Then I asked her about her audition, and if she was the one who auditioned with a Brooklyn accent. She looked at me smugly and nodded with a grin. I asked her, “Do you even know where Brooklyn is?!” to which she shook her head “no”. I laughed and asked her how she knew what a Brooklyn accent sounded like. She answered, “I’ve seen the movie, Mom…I just pretended I was Kristin Chenoweth!”

Later, as I thought about this experience, I realized something. While my intentions were good (protecting my daughter’s heart), my actions were wrong. In trying to prevent the possibility of her pain, I was stealing her hope. Because I had experienced disappointment in similar circumstances as a child, I wanted to spare her. I knew the crushing disillusionment from a failed audition, and I did not want my precious little pixie to experience it. Instead of encouraging her to go for her dream, I wanted her to be “safe”. I thought if she had lower aspirations, it wouldn’t hurt as much if she failed, like I had. I loved drama growing up, but I was cursed with a sometimes paralyzing shyness when it came time to audition. The one time I valiantly overcame my fear and gave an awesome audition (my senior year), the director called me back for the lead role, but then gave it to the other girl (a junior) because she was reluctant to believe I could do it, since she hadn’t seen that in me the previous years. She told me that although I read the role better, and seniors usually got the lead, she wouldn’t give it to me. It absolutely broke my heart and that was the last time I acted.

Now I see that I was viewing Lexi’s experience through my own failure. I desperately wanted to protect her from the pain that I had felt. Instead of giving my daughter wings, I was tethering her to the ground, so she wouldn’t be hurt. And, boy, did she show me. She went in, gave it her all, and succeeded. She had the best two weeks of her life, and the experience of playing “Lily St. Regis” in Annie, Jr. is something she will never, ever forget, as long as she lives. She was an unqualified success, bringing the audience to laughter and rave reviews (people stopped us outside the theater to compliment us on her performance). But as much as she learned, I think I learned more. My job is not to clip her wings, but to help her fly. Life is full of disappointment, but if I shield her from it, she will never learn to persevere through it. I need to teach her the tools to flourish even in the midst of disappointment, not keep her from ever experiencing it. In trying to protect her, I was actually doing her a disservice. I think, in our society, we have failed our children by trying to protect them from every disappointment. We have created a generation of kids who expect to get what they want when they want it because we don’t want to “disappoint” them. We have created a school system that has removed all competition and reward, because it might hurt someone’s “self-esteem”. Instead of teaching our children to give it their best, and how to go to their Father’s arms for comfort when they fail, we have tried to prevent them from ever failing.

Next time, I will try to let Lexi hope without tarnishing it for her. And if she fails, she will know that her mother is here to hold her, and to share her hurt, and to help her find her way to the Father of all comfort.