Garden Tending

I remember the day I saw it happen.
Boys in school long ago thought they were being funny.
As a girl sat down in her desk chair, they pulled the chair ever so slightly backwards.
The girl fell on the floor.

I remember her being embarrassed.
I remember she tried not to cry but it hurt.
I remember walking her down to the bathroom so she could compose herself.
I remember the slight limp she had as she walked down the hallway.

It was not funny.
They thought the prank would make everyone laugh.
They realized the mistake they made when they saw that she was hurt.
Those moments could not be taken back again even if they tried.

I just heard a story from one of my daughter’s friends.
She told the story as she remembered it all these years later.
She told the story as a young woman well out of her teens.
She was angry at the time but now sees that what her father did was right.

She tended to slam doors in her teenage years.
That was an unacceptable behavior according to her parents’ rules.
Nothing seemed to get through to her.
In all the emotions of the teenage years, the door to her room slammed quite a bit.

Her father took action.
Her father went upstairs with the appropriate tools and simply removed her bedroom door.
The door will be put back on the hinges when you learn not to slam it, he wisely said.
She told the story with the memories still fresh in her mind.

Just at the time when I valued my privacy, my bedroom door was removed, she told us.
He was right, though I didn’t think so at the time, she reflected, speaking of her father.
He had enough and disciplined me in a very effective way.
Once that door was put back on the hinges, I never slammed it again! she announced.

I remember doing a similar thing with one of my daughters.
We were working on a certain attitude that would rear its ugly head from time to time.
She was on a local soccer team and we were heading to practice.
Her attitude and response to something I said was unacceptable.

She had been warned.
She pushed the envelope.
She skirted right to the edge and tried to test her limits.
You won’t be going to soccer tonight, I announced as I turned the car around.

We will be calling your coach when we get home and explain to him why you’re not there.
You will stand right next to me as I call him, I said and meant it.
There were pleas and promises to never have that attitude again.
We got home and I called the coach leaving him a voicemail as she stood beside me.

She was embarrassed.
She was sorry.
She promised she would never have that attitude again.
Could I please go to soccer practice? She asked already knowing the answer.

No, but I am sure by the next practice you will have learned how you are to behave.
There were some quiet tears.
There were sluggish footsteps on the stairs.
Discipline is hard work for the one disciplining and the one receiving the discipline.

I went to the post office today to mail a package.
As I drove home, I saw the puddle.
It is a puddle that I am quite aware of and avoid at all costs.
It has deceived many people.

It is not a shallow puddle that you could easily drive through.
It is a deep hole that the township fills with gravel when it gets too bad.
What looks innocent is really deep enough to blow out your tire or break an axil.
You would never know from first glance just how dangerous that hole really is.

Isn’t that always the way it is?
Things that seem so innocent are really quite harmful.
Limits are tested.
Envelopes are pushed and edges are skirted.

If you do what is right, will you not be accepted? But if you do not do what is right, sin is crouching at your door; it desires to have you, but you must master it. (Genesis 4:7)

Master the door slamming.
Master the attitude.
Master the depth of the deceptive hole.
That mastering is impossible in our own strength.

Endure hardship as discipline; God is treating you as sons. For what son is not disciplined by his father? If you are not disciplined (and everyone undergoes discipline), then you are illegitimate children and not true sons. Moreover, we have all had human fathers who disciplined us and we respected them for it. How much more should we submit to the Father of our spirits and live! Our fathers disciplined us for a little while as they thought best; but God disciplines us for our good, that we may share in His holiness. No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness ad peace for those who have been trained by it. (Hebrews 12:7-11)

Sin crouches at our door.
Sin seems so innocent, like the puddle on the road that appears shallow.
Sin will catch you unaware.
Sin will be deeper and more dangerous than you ever imagined.

Today, many parents think they must be a friend to their child.
Children already have friends.
Children need parents.
Children need limits, safeguards, boundaries and parents who will lovingly enforce them.

My oldest son used to dislike something I said.
When disciplined, he would not particularly like the punishment.
My children could share their feelings about anything as along as they did it respectfully.
He questioned the restrictions he was being given at the time.

I turned to him and said the words he never liked.
I am not here to make you comfortable; I am here to build your character.
Character building is hard work.
We imperfect parents can only do the best we can, but we need God’s help and guidance.

God is the perfect Father.
God’s discipline is loving.
God’s discipline is for His glory and for our good.
It does not feel pleasant at the time; however, it produces a harvest of righteousness.

Tend the gardens that are your children.
Weed out, cultivate, and nourish the soil.
The fruit of that labor will be sweet.
The harvest of that hard work will be bountiful.

Help them master their sinful nature, the sinful nature that we all have.
They cannot do it on their own.
As the parent, you cannot do it on your own.
Only God can show us how to discipline lovingly and mercifully, yet effectively.