I pray they remember the good days…

I love my kids, more than most anything.  They mean the world to me…and I would be lost without them.  However, there are days when I pray that God would shield them from my parenting mistakes and help them to only remember the good.

I actually have hope that this is possible.  I have asked my Grandma countless times about her trials of raising 6 boys, virtually by herself, as my Grandpa was on the road working most of the time to provide for this large family.  She has always maintained that she doesn’t remember the hard times, or the frustration, she only remembers the laughing and wrestling (that was a pastime in their home, every meal was followed by a wrestling match in the living room between Grandpa and 6 boys, Grandma placed herself firmly in front on the television and near the lamp with a broom stick and whacked them to keep them from breaking something).

I think about the life she lived and know there must have been hard times.  Harder than I could ever imagine, yet she doesn’t remember them.  All she remembers is the good.  If you ask my Dad, or any of his brothers, they state the same.  Sure they are full of hysterical stories about pranks and the ornery stunts they pulled…but they never speak of yelling or anger…just happiness, love and hard work.

Even I, when I think back to my childhood only remember good times.  I know I broke rules and got into trouble, I know that my parents spanked us when we needed it.  But I cannot vividly remember one of those instances.  Why is that?  Is it just because the good out weighs the not so great?  I can’t ever say I had it bad (I have wonderful parents who I love more than I can even explain with words), and to be honest I am thankful for my parents view on discipline.  I know that the way I was raised has made me who I am today.  I appreciate that they gave us boundaries…they expected us to be polite and respectful of others, to show love and to work hard.

I pray that I can pass on half of these things to my children.  However, on those days when my voice seems to rise with each passing moment and I get so frustrated with the every day…I pray that my children would only remember the great times, the laughter and the good times.  The times we snuggled up to read a book together, singing songs, playing games and running outside.  I pray the remember the times when I really stopped to listen to what they were saying, rather than hurrying them along to get everything on my agenda accomplished. 

Why is it so hard to slow down and enjoy the real blessings in our lives?  Why can’t we just stop and enjoy our kids being kids?  They won’t stay little very long, and some day I know I’ll wish these days back. 

Lord, please let them remember the good times, the fun and the love.  Lord, please block out the days I yell and fuss at them over silly things, block out the times when I put them off so I can get one more menial task completed before I give them a few minutes of myself.  Help me to stop the daily grind and to really play with them.  Help me take the time to talk to them, and to really listen.  Help me make them feel as important as they are to me!