Too Much Credit, Too Much Blame

There were many times while my children were small that I was the recipient of praise for some deed they had done. Maybe they used good manners, sat quietly through an entire church service, or responded to an adult respectfully, looking him or her directly in the eye and saying some clever, adorable thing. Once they were out of earshot, I might hear, “Good job, mama!”. I liked it. Yes, I’ll take credit, I’m sure I thought; after all, it wasn’t luck that they knew how to behave. As a stay-at-home mother, my biggest role in those early years was to train my children and I took great delight in it. Generally speaking, my littles were naturally eager to please, responsive to loving instruction, and an absolute pleasure to be with. I actually thought this parenting thing might be a breeze….

God doesn’t give little people to big people without reason. Our influence on our children is monumental. Who would dispute it? However, its intensity is chiefly at the beginning, weakening slowly but surely as they grow into adults themselves. Like helping them onto that first bike, the parent is there to keep them upright and to move them forward until, their own legs pumping, their own body and brain coordinating, they are riding all by themselves…what joy! What joy as a parent to have these small triumphs that hopefully lead to greater ones, as our children tackle balancing Life itself, looking to us for support and guidance as they find their own feet on their own path. I’m certain we are still influencing our adult daughter though in a more muted way. We usually don’t offer her and her husband advice unless it is requested. For this, we are richly rewarded in that we are asked just often enough that we are made to feel a valuable part of their lives. It is incredibly gratifying.

This part of my mom story is exceptionally happy and blessed. The other part is not one I engage with so much anymore. It is full of deep sorrow. These chapters are punishing and confusing to read, mostly left untouched as if shut up in a forgotten book on a dusty shelf. My husband and I have been completely written off and have zero influence at all — as far as we can tell — on the son we gave our everything to raise. This loss is in and of itself overwhelming, but what adds grief upon grief is the idea that his troubled soul and life are somehow our fault. This is a burden too great for any sensitive parent to bear.

These days I often hear political pundits curse the parents of young adults who riot in the streets, destroy college campuses, or show sympathy for terrorists. “Who are their parents?” “What colossal, parental failure!” “I blame the parents!” Each time I hear something like this it pains me. Their comments cut deeply because I have been feeling like a profound failure as a mother ever since our adult son revealed to the world that he is “really a woman,” additionally repudiating and essentially spitting on the sweet upbringing we took such pains to “do right.” “I was never loved before now….” he would profess to all his (and our) friends online. How can such a thing not be looked upon as complete and utter failure by the parents who could not have possibly loved him more? I spent at least two years agonizing, wondering what we did wrong…what we could have done, should have done…? Even now these questions pop up on occasion but only long enough for me to swiftly punch them down again in some insidious, carnival-like mind game. If I can help just one mother or father out there lose this extra burden, I will be satisfied.

These aren’t little children under the power of towering parents. These are actually grown or near grown adults, even if they are young. I get it — men especially aren’t finished developing until the age of 25, and in the case of the developmentally delayed (as our son is), even older than that. I don’t believe it erases an ounce of their culpability, however. As they grow, it is they who have to make a choice, even from a little child: will I listen to my parents/wiser authority in my life, or choose my own way/the way of the mob?

The Proverbs in the Bible say that even a child can be known by his actions, whether his behavior is pure or right. Even a child. So long before society holds a person accountable, God Himself is doing so. These are not robots we are maintaining with reboots and program upgrades, but souls we are nurturing; people who will make their own decisions and walk their own path in life. We try our best to help shape those processes, but ultimately, they will be theirs to own.

Maybe Mom and Dad weren’t the best influences they could have been. Maybe Mom and Dad are or were in some ways enabling their children in their folly. Maybe we are in fact, seeing parental failure in greater measures than ever before. Maybe. But I also know we are seeing young adults not taking responsibility for their own actions like never before, and parents who are too often vilified and crushed by the trans mob who happily dump blame upon blame.

Our son was a distressed soul from the early years. We believe his issues were a combination of truly being unable to connect dots (mild autism and developmental delays), coupled with a rebellious spirit. I remember coming to tears in the presence of a dear friend of mine when my son was about 13. My girlfriend couldn’t understand it. “He’s a good boy!” she would insist. Yes, he was! But I feared it was only an outward, temporary show. “I don’t have his heart,” I cried. “We don’t have his heart….” And I was right. At that point, he had learned what was expected of him to live peaceably in our home and was still willing to go along, but he was beginning to pull inward and away, a trend that would continue until our final parting.

Increasingly, if we were ever in a group, he began to ignore us. He started gravitating toward political opinions outside of ours. This was not a major problem. We thought we were having honest dialogue, encouraging him to think for himself. We didn’t feel threatened. We truly wanted to understand him! We wanted both our kids to be able to express opinions and ask questions. We thought we were all being open and honest, but he was hiding. He would hide more and more, all the while painting a false picture that he was our son and that, although our relationship was challenging, things would ultimately be OK. Until they most certainly weren’t.

We learned of his “womanhood,” along with the rest of the world: through Facebook. He was 23. It came as an utter and total shock, a punch in the gut and heart that three years later still stuns. Knowing what we know now, we would of course have done some things differently. Who among us can’t think of corrections we’d make if we could have a do-over? But I know now that we are NOT to blame for his embracing gender ideology. Without realizing it, we were actually standing against this for years in all our efforts to help our son live a life based on truth. No, this was a choice he made all on his own, though from a place of terrible vulnerability that in many ways, he also chose by rejecting his parents’ guidance. He chose a long time ago to walk away from the loving protection of his parents and go his own way.

There are a few things that firmed up this idea that we were not to blame. The first became apparent to me the moment I joined online parent support groups like PITT. All our stories seem to be variations of the same story, our kids, variations of the same kid. Seriously? So bizarre… your kid is so much like mine… But looking at the parents — all so markedly different — from religious to secular, conservative to progressive, and from all parts of the globe, we could not possibly be more different and yet here we are, all saying, “yes, same here”, “yes, my child is like that”, “yes, that’s my story, too”. This ideology is destroying the same type of person, not the same types of families/parents. We are not collectively able to say that had we all done x, y, or z, we would not be here.

Another thing I pondered that gave some clarity was the very first troubled family. Adam and Eve raised the first siblings — two boys, who no doubt were each other’s companions and best friends only to grow up with one hating and killing the other. This is extreme! The very first family is shattered in a way most of us will never comprehend. What did God do? Did he go to the parents and say, “you really messed up your boy there”? No! He went to Cain directly to confront him with his own sin. Cain is held to account for his own heart and actions. We don’t know how old he was, but I don’t think it matters. The point is imperfect parenting (which is all parenting) does not equate to the kind of unprecedented destruction and devastation we are witnessing in the lives of our children.

Then there is gender ideology itself, which we all know is cultish and strikes the most vulnerable through the internet which is being used to radicalize the weak and lonely. Add to this the trans mob and all our major institutions willing and able to make heroes out of our children (who are actually their victims and pawns in a larger agenda). All of these point to things outside of our power as parents to control. We should certainly look back and own up to mistakes made and endeavor to do better, but we should definitely not beat ourselves down in the way our own children and mad society do. This is not our fault. This is not YOUR fault.

When our daughter graduated high school, she was a lovely young woman who had a reputation for her godly disposition, her unique gifts in writing, thinking, speech and debate, and for being someone everyone, saint and rebel alike, was endeared to. She would go on to excel in college, meet and marry a fantastic young man and continue to make decisions that brought increased blessing into her life. Letting her ride away on that symbolic bike and watching her succeed has been one of the greatest joys of my life as the mother of grown children. I just want to stand and cheer, jump up and down clapping and crying, so proud I am of my girl living on her own and so happy! Every once in a while, again comes the “good job, Mom and Dad…” for which we now absolutely correct. No we cannot take credit for this exceptional outcome. Yes, we taught our daughter many things in word and in deed. But truly the most extraordinary thing about it was that she listened. She took wise counsel to heart. She entrusted us as her parents to direct her for the very short time she was under our care… that very short time she was held securely by our hands…keeping her stable…helping her pedal with all her might and to take up for herself all the wisdom her heart could hold…and then let go…. So beautifully she rides! All on her own.

We cannot and do not take credit for her. And for him for whom our hearts break; him for whom we pray without ceasing until the day he returns; for this dear one now hidden away in our private sorrow (though not without hope) …we do not take blame.