I am currently reading the book Boundaries with kids by Dr. Henry Cloud and Dr. John Townsend. Though I'm not a parent but a teacher, this chapter speaks to me so much that I couldn't help but to share it.
Lesson number one in parenting and life is "Growth involves pain." Lesson number two is "Not all pain produces growth." Learning to tell the difference is the key to having someone stay on the bottom, or grow past where he or she is.
When I played basketball in junior high, our coach had a big banner across the locker room that read, NO PAIN, NO GAIN. This saying became our team's mantra as we conditioned, trained, and practiced, sometimes past the point we thought we could endure.
I had experienced the reality of this phrase before, but I had never understood it quite like this. If I'm not struggling, I'm not getting better at what I have to do. This lesson has served me well for life. If you are independent, you are used to doing things that "hurt" so you can receive something you desire.
For example, as I write this chapter, I am very tired. I'm tired from traveling, and I'm tired of writing. It's a weekend, and I don't like working on the weekend. In addition, I haven't managed my time too well lately, and I'm behind. But as I write, I also know that to continue through the struggle is the only way to get what I desire. I want this book to be published. I want you, the parent, to have it. I want to fulfill this part of what I think God has called me to do. And if the book sells, I can also buy food.
As I write at this late hour, I also groan and gripe about it. Luckily, no one is listening. But what if I called my mother and cried to her about how difficult writing is, how hard it is to make things work in today's world, how cruel life is? And what if she had no boundaries herself, felt "sorry" for my pain, and sent me a check? What if she "compassionately" listened and agreed that I should not push myself so hard? (Don't worry, this is not killing me. But good complainer I am, I could make it sound that way for a codependent mother.) I could be assuaged out of my suffering enough to just let it go and feel okay about not accomplishing my task.
I can actually remember just such a day when I was in the sixth greade and tried this with my mother. I had had mononucleosis and had missed a month of school. When I came back, I was overwhelmed with the amount of work I had to catch up on. I remembered going to my mother and saying, "I do not want to go to school today. It's just too much. I can't take it anymore."
I will never forget what she said. I can see her and hear her words tonight as if I were standing there today: "Sometimes I don't want to go to work either. But I have to go." Then she hugged me and told me to get ready for school.
I was hurting. I was tired. I was in pain. But my mom knew it would not harm me to keep going. She evaluated my pain - the pain of momentary discipline - and encouraged me to keep going. Today, I am thankful for her boundaries. Without them my life would be full of half-done projects and unfulfilled goals. Later, I talked to her about this, and she told me parts of the story I had never heard before.
When I was four years old, a childhood bone disease caused me to lose the use of my left leg for two years. At times I had to use a wheelchair, and at other times I wore restrictive braces and walked on crutches. I was unable to get around much and play with other children.
As you can imagine, this was difficult for my parents to watch. However, when I see home movies, I see an active youngster wheeling through the zoo, going to birthday parties, and hopping around on braces and crutches. For a crippled kid, I did a lot.
I never knew what my parents had to go through to help me become this self-sufficient. The orthopedist told them that they were going to "ruin" me if they did things for me. She told them that they had to let me suffer through learning how to walk on crutches, steer the wheelchair, and explain to others what was wrong with me.
It was extremely painful for my parents to watch me struggle. They already felt sorry for their four-year-old son, who had lost the ability to walk like other children. They wanted to rescue me when I cried about having to wear the brace, or when I was in pain. Instead, they spanked me for trying to walk on my bad leg (something that would have deformed me for life). After she disciplined me, my mom revealed later, she would have to call a friend and cry.
My mother also told me of one day when I was struggling to get up the stairs to church. She overheard someone say, "Can you believe those parents, making him do that? How cruel they are!" But she was able to keep the limits. Another day, my crutch slipped on the marble steps of the post office; I came tumbling down, shaken, bruised, and cut up. But Mom continued to make me go up stairs on my own.
I cried, complained, and tried all of a four-year-old's games to manipulate my mom and dad into not allowing me to suffer the pain of learning self-sufficiency. But they kept their limits, and we made it through.
The end result is that I was soon able to get around and live a reasonably active and normal life with other children, and my leg eventually healed. Today I am grateful for their making me go through pain that hurt me, but did not harm me.
The parent who hears every cry or complaint as the ultimate concern will never develop boundaries and character in the child. When your children cry about homework, chores, or a missed opportunity because they did not do their part, what are you going to do? How you answer this question will have a tremendous effect on the course of your child's life.
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