We're like, really into Jesus

a bit of therapy from a four-year-old

One of the primary anxieties that plagues me as a reconstructing parent is the spiritual health of my kids. I know many parents can relate. It’s far from a new anxiety. I remember my own parents’ fears about the worldly forces (public school, R-rated movies, evolution, Planned Parenthood in the classroom, etc.) that could destroy their kids’ faith. They combatted this by

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making sure we were always in church and church programs. My anxiety, at its core, is no different. But instead of fearing the influence of the outside world on my kids, I’m worried about the influence of myself on my kids. And that’s just a weird spot to be in.

Earlier this year during bedtime, my four-year-old was crying over the fear of having a bad dream. My brain short-circuited because this is usually the part where a parent could say, “God can do anything, let’s pray for him to help you not have bad dreams.” But I hadn’t been that parent for quite some time! I was also 80% certain that she would have a bad dream, whether we prayed or not (I didn’t say this to her). But I couldn’t think of a new theology to fit into that short moment. I tried my best,

“Well…Jesus is with you and loves you. His presence is a comfort to you. We can pray for that!”

She looked at me blankly.

“I don’t feel him.”

Whomp, whomp. I couldn’t come back from that; I didn’t feel him either! Anxiety continued to build. I let it reinforce my fear of failing my kids.

Fast forward to this week. I was at our preschool’s parents morning, chatting with my child’s teacher who said she had the funniest story to tell me.

“So,” the teacher began, “I had another student ask me if I knew about Jesus. And I said, ‘Well yes, yes I do know about him!’ And then I heard your little Elsa come up behind me and say, ‘Oh yeah. My family is like, really into Jesus.”

While we both laughed, my brain started whirling, “Are we really into Jesus? Does Elsa think Ben and I talk about him a lot? Does our home feel like a Christ-centered home after all?” I was scared to let myself believe the answer that seemed to be making a decent case for itself.

This little interaction spurred me to take a hard look at my self-fulfilling-prophecy paradigm. I’m so afraid of ruining my kids’ spiritual lives that I’m convinced it is happening. Until something else breaks through.

It all goes to show that deconstruction and reconstruction are so much more than just processes of logic. Emotions are tangled throughout and there is no separating them. It reminds me of the Devil’s Snare in Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone (both book and movie). The Devil’s Snare is a plant that feels like a pleasant cushion when you drop onto it, but quickly captures its victim by wrapping them in tentacle-like vines. Struggling makes you die faster, the only way to escape is by relaxing your body, after which you’ll drop to safety. Anxiety in reconstruction feels a bit like that to me. Struggling against it ultimately just makes it stronger- freaking out about ruining my kids doesn’t help me be a better parent. Stopping to notice what my kids are saying and doing is what, in this case, brought relief. Sinking through the Devil’s Snare, if you will.

“Yeah, we’re like, really into Jesus.”

I guess we are? If the kids believe it, I’ll believe them. We’ve got this. Parts of it at least.