Parenting, Culture Shock, and turning over the worry...

I keep reading all of these positive things about how difficult, yet rewarding, parenting is or can be.  I believe them all and they make me laugh.  Trouble is it doesn't relieve the sheer overwhelming feeling of "Am I doing it right?"  I've been watching a sermon series by Andy Stanley called, "Why Worry?"  It's fantastic, and he states that "You worry about that which you are most passionate and committed to."  This made me evaluate what I actually worry about.  It's my kids.  It's their well-being, their health, their minds, their self-esteem, their faith, their successes, their failures.  I want them to be happy, but not so happy that they miss the tough lessons of life.  I want them to miss heartache, but not to the degree that they miss having compassion for others.  Once I discovered what I worry about most, and connected that to what I'm most passionate about, I confess I had a moment of "Well, at least maybe I'm not COMPLETELY self-absorbed; and short of being totally and fully committed to Christ and trusting Him with my worries, this isn't the WORST thing to worry about."  It's possible that I momentarily forgot the point of the message.

It's true that I need to turn all of my worries over to a higher authority...to the God that I, in theory, trust implicitly with my every tomorrow.  But these feelings of insecurity and of "being unsettled," continue to creep back into my daily life.  This made me think harder about "why" I feel this way.  And then I remembered..."culture shock."  It's a nasty little thing.  It creeps into your world, and undermines your greatest feelings of accomplishment.  It's silent and like that black web from Spiderman 3, it wraps itself around you and suddenly, you feel black and dark and you don't know why.  I had that feeling throughout my first year in Nairobi.  Once I left for summer and had a "break" from my own daily grind, I returned with a new sense of "home."  I came back and suddenly it was "MY crazy world" and I fit into it so much better.  I was comfortable in my own skin again.  We are getting very close to summer break after nearly a year in Romania...

So doesn't it stand to reason that after this summer, I'll feel better when I return?  I hope so...but like that black web, there are feelings of doubt.  What if I simply DON'T fit in here?  What if I've finally reached that place in my own life and in adulthood where I can't adapt?  I'm done.  I've grown too old to make new friends?  Suddenly this sounds familiar...the old paranoia of transition and culture shock is ringing true.  It simply has to "make it's rounds" in my head in order for me to rationalize it and put it back into it's proper place.  I have to turn that over, too.  To allow God to re-invent my thinking.  To give me peace when I can't find it on my own.  To turn the focus off of myself and back onto those around me...the ones I'm so passionate about.  And then that old worry of "Am I getting it right?" creeps back in...and so is the cycle of life in the Foreign Service...transition, adjusting, re-adjusting, helping your children adjust, feeling settled for about 10 minutes, and then preparing for transition again. I'm presently in search of that "10 minutes."

Sadly, having culture shock doesn't allow us a reprieve from parenting. We can't STOP parenting because we are in transition.  I think in our attempt to be good parents, we have to make difficult decisions that are often not popular with the masses, feeding into the feelings of personal isolation.  Not allowing my 12 year old to have her ears pierced until she's 13, so we'll have something fun to look forward to when we hit our "teens," is wildly unpopular.  Not attending Middle School dances is also  unpopular.  No facebook accounts, no privacy with electronics, no violent Wii games, no electronic games during the week, no walking around the mall alone, no R rated movies, no company in the house while I'm away, you can't play with matches, or knives, wear a helmet and shoes when on your bike, no food in the living room, no dessert until you've eaten your dinner, you can't ask the neighbors for food, you can't knock on anyone's door until after 10 a.m. and noon on Sunday, no cell phones until I see a need, take your plate to the sink, make your bed...I'm a real stickler for following the rules.  Crazy rules, I guess.  When other parents don't share our convictions or our love for rules, then we are suddenly the "strict, unrelenting," parent.  It's less about what someone else might say and more of a "feeling."  My kids tell me I live in the dark ages and that THEIR friends get to do all of these things!  Naturally, I don't always believe them, but I do know it happens.  And in truth, I only like rules because I think they are designed to keep our children safe.  They create natural boundaries so children are not putting themselves at risk both physically and emotionally.  It also develops a sense of respect...for themselves, and for others.  I don't want to rob their joy, or keep them imprisoned, or make them completely dependent on me.  I know they must begin to make their own decisions, and emerge into society as strong, INDEPENDENT people.  I hope the "rules" allow that transition to take place. But I also want them to be free to enjoy being children.  We all know that adulthood is upon us all too soon, with all of it's responsibilities and chores; and suddenly childhood and the pleasures of being young are gone.  I've convinced myself that I'm doing okay, but it's still sometimes a lonely road.

I know I must turn this worry over, too.  I have to seek His face and trust my children's well-being and even my own insecurities over to a higher power...but only after I've done all that I can physically do.  It is then, when I've stood firm in the face of judgement and difficult situations, and hopefully equipped my children to make good decisions, that I can rest and let God handle the rest.  In the meantime, I'm packing for a summer trip. ;-)