The view from behind God's door: Holding the door shut so we can progress

God's view of our life is a little clearer than our view of His. Yet we still
question his decisions for us constantly.

Last night, we went to my parent's house for dinner. This is always something my kids look forward to, peppering us with questions like, "Are we going to Grandma's house?" Then the excited squeal breaks out with the followup question: "Again?"

While we go for the food and the company, they go for the company and the toys. As if they have a choice anyway. But lately, we've had some severe discipline issues when we tell them it's time to leave Grandma's house. The very literal kicking and screaming begins in earnest.

This isn't a problem we've had to deal with a lot with our children. They are generally pretty even tempered. Our kids know if they want to cry they have to do it in their room where no one can hear them. Our 2-year old daughter is so accustomed to this routine that she'll sag her shoulders after her brother's offended her, cast her eyes down with an expert flick, jut her lip out like an icebreaker and run to her room whether there're icebergs in the hall blocking her way or not.

This melodramatic performance makes us laugh every time, but we do so as silently as possible so as not to reinforce the behavior. The nice thing is, we usually go and get her a few minutes later and she's happily playing by herself with some toys in the room by that point.

At Grandma's house, though, we have no system set up like that. Instead, when our 3-year-old boy began his fit about leaving, I put him in a spare bedroom and closed the door behind him. Since, like most good bedroom door locks, it locked from the inside instead of the outside, I had to hold the door to keep the little werewolf from busting the door down in his rage. I listened, sadly, as he pounded against the door, cried and screamed while I just kept holding the door closed. It was for the good of everyone in the house. Especially my son, in the long run. Any positive reinforcement for behavior like that sets the course for a lifetime of parents being trampled by tiny feet. But he hated the treatment. I may be the only one it was harder on than him. Though most of his tears were tears of frustration, I heard some real pain in his voice.

I stared at the door handle I was holding shut while it bounced and jiggled under my hand. My eyebrows arched in concern and my heart softened as he tried to get out - the way he thought was best for himself. It was hugely painful for me as a father to discipline in such a way I knew would bring the best results for everyone in the future.

As I held that door shut, I wondered what the view from behind God's door must look like. 6 billion kids, many of them trying to kill each other, all of them looking for answers to their pleas for help. How often must he hold the door shut on us, his children, so that we'll grow in the right directions? The answers to prayer usually come as "yes," "no," or "not yet." But when we so desperately want something, what must it be like for a loving Father in heaven to say "no" while holding the door shut on what we see as a way forward - maybe even the only way forward?

I don't envy His position. My own problems with basic discipline pale in comparison to Him having to tell someone "no" to a life-changing proposition. In the end, He knows best. He knows our strengths, weaknesses and time lines. When He holds doors shut on us, there is a reason for it. And we, the kicking and screaming 3-year-olds behind the closed door, too often ask why He doesn't care while He's holding us against our will.

Maybe the questions we should ask ourselves instead are: "Why is God holding this door shut? What door would he rather that I open? How can I go about opening that door?" If we but understand that 1. Heavenly Father loves us and 2. He is omniscient, we can see that He will chart our lives for our best if we allow Him. But if we keep kicking and screaming, sometimes He'll open doors that should never be opened to us to begin with.

When I finally opened the door to my son's tear-stained face, I did my best to explain why I did what I did. Then I took him in my arms as gently as I could and told him I loved him. When God holds those doors shut so that we can grow, don't lash out at Him. Let him show you His love. Watch for it. Ask for it. You'll feel it. Our understanding of His plan for us will eventually materialize, just maybe not on our time frame.

Have you ever felt like God held a door shut on you that you really wanted open only to find out why He did so later on in life?

"Spring" at the park with two feet of snow

"Spring" in Jackson Hole, complete with two
feet of snow on the playground. Also,
sandals are a necessary spring accent.

Spring here in Jackson Hole has roared in like a lion. With it's mouth duct taped shut. And its mane shaved off. Underwater. In a solitary confinement chamber. In Antarctica.

Yeah, it's been one of those years. Just last week, we got more than 40 inches of snow in four days. You feeling me here yet? I guess you could just say it's winter right now on April 13. I expect to say the same of May 13 and maybe even June 13. Don't get me started on July.

Not that I'm complaining. The weatherman, however, is another story. Apparently, one of the local weather guys has gotten a lot of viewer complaints because he spends his three minutes whining about how bad the weather is. I'm pretty OK with the weather, but most people would like something more like, I don't know - spring?

So yesterday the sun was shining after some snow showers, a balmy 40-something degrees. No really - it felt balmy. So we went out to the park with the kids. Insisting it was spring, I wore my shorts, a T-shirt and a light, unzipped jacket with sandals. It felt beautiful. My daughter wore a mishmash outfit of blue jeans under a pink skirt with a green top under a red coat topped off (bottomed out?) with purple boots. My son, having seen the sun, insisted he didn't need a coat or anything, so he just wore his hooded track suit. Then we went outside.

Suddenly he wanted his coat.

Completely unstaged, our daughter grabbed
her brother'shand and they looked both
ways to cross the street to the park.

As we walked to the park, our daughter, 2, spontaneously offered her hand to her brother, 3, and they walked hand in hand down the neighborhood road toward the park. Some snow had melted off the expansive lawn, but large piles still stood around the marshy grass, and the playground itself had a good 24 inches still packed in there. We almost just walked right on by, continuing to the post office. But the kids bee-lined through the snow straight to their beloved playground equipment. Reluctant to follow through the snow in sandals, I watched from a distance as they climbed up through the slide.

My daughter, always ambitious, tried her hardest to go up the slanted tube, but found herself lacking, and began asking me for a push. Unable to resist, I tiptoed through the snow, only post-holing a couple times on my way. Toes reddened, I pushed her up the tube and followed her to the top. From there, I watched as the kids happily shimmied around the equipment. After every time they went down a slide, they would struggle through the snow to get back on. Several times, Daddy had to rescue a little girl stranded up to her knees in soft snow, which was cascading into the top of her boots. And this in sandals. Good times.

Our daughter even took a cue from the dogs that aren't supposed to be in the park and peed on a tree. It's OK, we were the only ones in the park. Shortly after the impromptu potty break from the girl who just can't hold it, the sun went down and we drug two reluctant children away from their summer fun in the snow.

So lousy spring weather doesn't mean you shouldn't treat it like spring. We even had a barbecue the other night just to show winter who was boss. The kids loved their time outside, even if they were dressed for winter.

What do you do when spring weather is lousy?

Age and Entitlement

A kid shouldn't necessarily get everything
he asks for, especially when it's almost
pure fat and gristle.

It seems the older a child gets, the more they feel entitled to. My 3-year-old documents this well with his current fascination with the number three. We made homemade pizza this evening, and when the pepperoni came out he let us know his rights: “I need three pepperonis, ‘cause I’m 3.”

Though he still pronounces 3 “sree,” this is just one bargaining chip the little genius has picked up to help him with his supposed entitlements. I’ll grant the kid “life, love and the pursuit of happiness,” but beyond Constitutional entitlements, the kid’s really not guaranteed a lot.

That doesn’t mean I don’t entreat him to some of his arguments. If I’m in a good mood, and I don’t think his requests are too far off base, I’ll usually grant them. Three big greasy pepperonis? Definitely needs to catch me in the right mood. Three M&M’s? I’ll usually hook him up. When he asked for three pieces of pizza after I sliced the finished product up, I told him no initially before I got my wicked parent grin on and sliced the single piece I’d already gotten him into three smaller pieces. The kid was happy and nothing really changed.

Problem is, he’s smart. For a 3-year-old kid, he puts up some pretty sophisticated arguments sometimes. I just envision myself in ten years when he’s a teenager and sounds like a mini prosecution lawyer when I don’t give him his way like I did when he was just 3 years old.

It’s that mental fast forward button I have that often makes me say “no” even when I think it’s harmless. I think establishing a role as a loving provider who is able to say “no” without questions asked is important when they’re young. If the guidelines are set when the child really has no say in outcomes, the guidelines are much more likely to stick into teenage years and beyond.

Saying “yes” too often to invalid arguments could land you in trouble. Though farcical, I think of a scenario with a teenage boy coming home and saying, “Dad, I need 16 cars.”

Me: laughs.
Kid: “This is serious, Dad.”
Me: “Everything is serious at your age. But fine, I’ll hear the nonsense argument you have.”
Kid: “Here goes. I need 16 cars because,” (bet you know what’s coming) “I’m 16.”
Me: Laughs uncontrollably. “Boy, that argument hardly ever worked back when you were little and cute. It’s not going to get you one car now, much less 16 of ‘em.”
Kid: “You’re ruining my life!”
Me: “That’s what you said when you turned 6 and I told you you couldn’t have 6 baseball gloves.”
Kid: “Really? I wanted 6 baseball gloves? I don’t even like baseball.”
Me: “You should probably stop liking cars too because this argument’s leading down the same road.”

Yeah I’m sure there’s no son that doesn’t belong to Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie that would actually use that argument for 16 cars, but you see my point. A parent has the right to say “no” at any age to any request. By virtue of the fact we have raised the child the best we know how, we’ve earned that entitlement. But no age, whether 3 or 13, comes with an entitlement from parent to child.

So I guess my point is to know when to say “no” to a kid. Yeah, many requests are harmless, especially coming from the innocent mouth of a 3-year-old boy convinced that 3 pepperonis will make him grow big and strong like Daddy. But I don’t want to plant myself behind a wall of precedent where I find I can no longer reasonably say “no” to unreasonable requests from my children.

For a while, when we went to a certain store, we loved to see how our kids lit up when we got them a $1 Hot Wheels car every now and then. Pretty soon, we found we could no longer go to that store without them feeling like they got to walk out of the store with a brand new toy. The magic was lost to the spirit of entitlement. Saying “no” became difficult and I found I was becoming one of those parents I have always abhorred that will let their spoiled brats pick out a toy every time they are in a store.

Let’s just say this is not a pleasant corner to paint yourself into. We have since made severe course corrections, and have devised methods to make sure they know they are entitled to nothing at the store. So maybe next time your child comes to you with a request, ask yourself if it will put you in a scenario where giving in will become habitual. Maybe a “no” should come out, even if the kid is just asking for “sree gummy bears, ‘cause I’m sree.”

How do you combat child entitlement in your household?