Blowing It With Your Child - Pt. 1
Part 1 of the 'What If I Blew It' Blog Series
We’ve all had moments in our lives when we’d rather not admit that we blew it.
For me, it stings that much more when my child is the one I’ve lost my cool over, and I’ve responded poorly. When my feelings or values are stepped on, or I feel threatened, I can respond sharply and return hurt feelings in kind. I don’t like to be blamed, especially if you accuse me of something I neither did nor said. If you misinterpret my intentions or put words in my mouth, I’m likely to lash back at you.
I’m not proud of that answer, nor am I excusing my bad behavior. I am, after all, a fallible human. I’ve needed to ask for forgiveness more than once in my life for being an insensitive dope or a triggered maniac.
I know what the Bible says. Proverbs 15:1 "A gentle answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger."
I know better, but I blew it anyway. You too? I kinda forgot Psalm 141:3 "Set a guard over my mouth, Lord; keep watch over the door of my lips." Dagnabbit.
Perhaps you’re grieving with me over what we did or didn’t say when our child came out, whether gay, bisexual, transgender, or non-binary. Were we angry and explosive? If our child opened the gate of anger, did we barrel through it and amplify the volume? Did we feel like we had the right to be upset for our child’s contradiction to Scripture? Did we not-so-kindly ‘remind’ our child about the things God hates? Did we promise to fix them, or else? Did we deliver an ultimatum? Did we flat-out reject them and kick them out of our homes or our lives? Did we freeze up and fail to respond at all?
The most pressing question for me: Did I forget that there is a human being, with real feelings and fears, on the other side of my words?
I know what it’s like to blow it.
I’ve been there. Blowing it with my children stabs my heart the deepest, because they (and my hubby) are my greatest treasures. If we’ve cut our children deeply in the most vulnerable place they could imagine, chances are good they’re bleeding out and desperately need a lifeline. They don’t need any old surgeon to stitch them up. They need us to show up, not with a needle and sutures. They need us to arrive with a giant dose of humility, with a posture of remorse, cloaked in sorrow over our cutting words and harsh attitudes. They may not be ready to receive us, because they are still processing the hurt and damage they felt by our words.
Whether we lashed out over grief, disbelief, or our own guilt that we believe caused our child to be gay or transgender, something triggered our response. Was it fear? Was it our child’s disobedience? Our own disgust? Was it a deep underlying sadness that we wished things would have turned out differently? Maybe it’s a combination of all those things. Nonetheless, we have some pieces to pick up, and we’re at a loss over where to begin.
Our child walked. Far away—wounded or angry; probably both. They’ve wept the painful tears of rejection and isolation. Now they know how we really feel, and all their fears have been realized. They left, perhaps because they were told to; maybe because they’re choosing the distance so they don’t have to face the fact that they never wanted to find out if we’d actually kick them to the curb.
You, my fellow parent, are not alone. I have yet to meet a family who’s handled this very multi-faceted scenario with perfection. Every story is messy, and every one of our stories has one common thread. It’s not that we have an LGBTQ+ family member.
It’s that every family is full of sinners who mess up complicated situations every day of our lives.
The question is where to go from here.
I’m hopeful we find humility on both sides of our relationships. As a parent, I need to find the humility to approach my child to apologize for my poor response. As believers, we’re instructed in Ephesians 4:31-32: "Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice. Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you."
That makes me think we have some work to do. It would be ideal to have a personal conversation, because face time and personal interaction is everything. If our child has left, they may not even pick up our call. Try anyway. A phone call with a request to meet and speak in person will always trump a phone conversation. If that doesn’t work, send a text. Keep asking to meet.
Our child may have to be humble enough to come back if they blew their stack on us in anger. That will be difficult for them. Humility and the human response are fickle things, so let’s approach each other and our circumstances carefully.
Hey!
