I’ve Had My Turn

“Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne? Though she may forget, I will not forget you! See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands.”

ISAIAH 49:15–16

KELSEY AND I WERE ENJOYING BREAKFAST AT KELSEY’S favorite restaurant—the International House of Pancakes. Celebrating her eleventh birthday, Kelsey felt in a bit of a panic because her beloved “Funny Face Pancakes” are served only to customers twelve and under; she had just fifty-two weeks left to enjoy those chocolate chip confections passed off as a breakfast. Three elderly men, whom we see almost every time we visit, sat behind us. If these men aren’t in their eighties, they must be in their nineties, and they have to be just about the most pleasant group of men I’ve ever seen. The waitresses all get a hug, and every diner receives a hearty hello for a greeting—and they clearly have a deep affection for one another. One man held the arm of the other as he shuffled into the booth.

As is common with people with less-than-sharp hearing, they speak loudly. “Loud,” in fact, understates the case. One of these men has a voice roughly equal to a foghorn. “Gimme one of those senior breakfasts,” he called out to a waitress a good fifteen feet away—but you could’ve heard him across the freeway.

“Just one?”

“No, wait. Joe’s coming. Better make that two. Bill, he likes something else.”

Kelsey smiled, leaned in close to me, and whispered, “Daddy?”

“Yeah, honey?”

“When you get to be that old, I’m going to do the ordering for you.”

I can’t tell you how thrilled I was to hear Kelsey talk about going to IHOP with me when I’m in my eighties. Right now, I go there for her. The food doesn’t do much for me, but Kelsey loves it. I can certainly imagine a time, however, when that dynamic will flip-flop, and Kelsey will pick me up to make sure I get out of the house.

Looking forward to this long-term relationship with my child made me all the more sad to read of a woman who rarely sees her children or grandchildren. Instead, she spends all her time caring for her pets. Her daughter keeps trying to get Grandma to visit, but “Betty Jean tells her the same thing each time: She’s terribly busy and doesn’t have time. ‘I’ve done that, and it’s somebody else’s turn,’ she said with a shrug. ‘The dogs need my time and attention. They can’t be left for long.’ ”^a

I’ve heard this sentiment—“I’ve done that, and it’s somebody else’s turn”—quite often, and it strikes me as particularly sad. Allison, Graham, and Kelsey don’t represent a “turn” in my life; they represent a lifelong commitment and a lifelong object of affection. That’s why I feel somewhat uneasy with the phrase “raising kids.” It can diminish family life to a farm activity—raising crops or raising pets. Kids are so profoundly different. I’m relating to them, caring for them, involved with them. I don’t want the utilitarian aspect—growing them into adults—to become the defining point of our relationship.

Imagining life thirty years from now can help us keep the big picture in view. We can get so busy trying to make sure our children complete their homework, display good manners, not watch too much television, get enough exercise, and eat well that we can forget to enjoy them and relate to them. Kelsey’s comment—“When you get to be that old, I’m going to do the ordering for you”—reminded me of the most precious aspect of parenting, namely, building a lifelong relationship with another human being.

This emphasis on the relationship is essential if we are to mirror the father and mother love of God. The Lord tells Israel: “Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne? Though she may forget, I will not forget you! See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands” (Isaiah 49:15–16). Our heavenly Parent will never forget us because he has engraved us on the palms of his hands. He doesn’t want us to just mind our manners and obey a few key rules; he feels passionate about getting close to us.

Likewise, our affection for our children should run deep into our very pores; it should mark our marrow and stamp our DNA. To love our kids like God loves us means they should know that our affection is as intense as it is constant. They may see our hair thinning and our minds fading, but may they never see our passion or our commitment grow dim!

Spend this week reflecting on the relationship you are building with your kids. Ask God to give you the same heart for your children that he has for you. Raising children isn’t about “taking a turn”; it’s about cultivating an abiding affection and a true, lifelong commitment.

Heavenly Father, thank you for wanting to be in a close, intimate relationship with us. Following your example, help us to have the same kind of relationship with our children. Give us the perspective to think ahead thirty years from now to the kind of relationship we’ll want to have. In Jesus’ name, amen.