I have read a bazillion parenting books. Some were awful, some I gleaned from.  I recently took an online parenting class that gave a beautiful and gracious approach to parenting. The most prevalent theme of this class reinforced a hard truth I had heard years ago–before you parent your kids, parent yourself first. When we approach our children in a manner that frightens them or shames them, all the best parenting techniques in the universe will be ineffective. Kids hear what is in our heart, no matter how “calm” we try to appear on the outside. We have to deal with our own stuff first, our own triggers and emotions.

In a recent sibling battle (how long are we “sheltering-at-home??”), one of my daughters struggled with some really big emotions. I took deep breaths. Prayed. God spoke to me about how to approach her, and my daughter and I had an amazing conversation. She shared deep and difficult feelings she was experiencing. A great bonding moment and a parenting win (yay!).

The next day arrived. Oy…

I didn’t handle the battles that day as well as I had hoped. My kids are super forgiving, and I know they feel safe with me. I knew we would work it through. But how on earth did I wake up in another mom’s body that day and where did the capable and confident mom of yesterday go??

Such defeat. I knelt down and let the tears fall. I asked God how He could possibly love me in the midst of such failure. So clearly I heard His strong voice, “There is grace.”

My kids and I recently watched the movie “Pilgrim’s Progress.” There is a scene in the movie where Christian (the main character on a journey to The Celestial City) encounters the character Legality. Legality is a stone-like man that sits high on a hill with a gavel in his hand. The hill is covered in tombstones that materialize every time he ominously bangs his gavel. The tombstones have messages: “Obey the rules,” “Do not make any mistakes,” “Be quiet,” “Always remember everything.”  Christian attempts to climb this mountain with a heavy and ugly burden strapped to his back, while Legality shames him and criticizes him. It was such a vivid picture of the legalism to which we as a church, and as moms, sometimes ascribe. Work harder. Do more of this. Do less of that. Claw and crawl to please this merciless task-master we call “God,” and then berate ourselves when we fail.

But what if every mistake is a beautiful lesson? What if screwing up is the wide open door to peer into our truest heart in full assurance of mercy? What if we view it as an opportunity for genuine repentance that our kids desperately need modeled to them? What if we accepted that we will never do this perfectly?

Our kids don’t need to see perfection. They need to see transformation.

 A parent who is humble and repents when there is wrong done. A repentance that does not grovel, but also does not “gloss over” or invalidate. They need to see that we as parents are ever increasing in Jesus’ glory…  growing and becoming safer, less reactionary, more willing to admit fault. Kids need to see a life that accepts and gives grace. We can graciously communicate to them, “We do not know how to deal with this right now. This is hard. We are struggling. But we are going to take deep breaths. We are going to seek Jesus. We are in this together.” We can go to Jesus and allow Him to heal our deep hurts that get in the way of being the parent we want to be.

This is the amazing mystery of Jesus’ intimate relationship with us. He not only forgives and offers grace, but takes what is selfish and painful and confusing, and actually uses these things to bring us deeper into knowledge of the Father and of ourselves. The darkness doesn’t get the last word; all can be worked for good.  This sacred step of transformation pulls us into the throne room of God and invites His radical love to crash the darkness.

God is love, and His love invites us to experience even more love. Deeper than any drowning pit of legalism, shame, or despair, it is concrete and real and ever-present. The love of Jesus is unhindered by your mistakes, or your kid’s mistakes.

And remember, dear friend, that you are not on earth just to improve your parenting. You exist because the God of every star and of every grain of sand created you to be loved by Him and to be in relationship with Him. Your worth is not defined by the title of “mom, dad, or grandparent.” Your title is beloved. Your own identity in Jesus will move more mountains in your children than “perfect parenting” ever could.