I was putting away from clothes in my daughter’s room when I noticed a few things had fallen onto the floor next to her dresser. One in particular caught my eye: a baseball player’s autograph. To me, this piece of paper does nothing more than collect dust. Even if it were to become valuable monetarily, is this man’s signature really something worth valuing?
I wanted to throw it in the trash.
But I stopped myself. People (although I’m not one of them) have collections. That’s fine. And we “don’t sweat the small stuff.” Sure.
And yet, I do want my kids to value everlasting treasures (Matthew 6:20) over those that are temporal. I certainly can’t force them. This is one of those really difficult “you gotta model it for them” sort of things, which means we all have to work at it.
I set the scrap of paper back on her dresser and looked around the room. (Man, this is good-parenting thing is hard!) Books. Dolls. Clothes. A few photographs. Some toys. And then I considered my own bedroom. If a stranger walked in, would she be able to distinguish what I most value in life by the items on my dresser or along the walls?
Maybe. Maybe not.
More importantly… do my kids know?
So… how do we really teach kids what really is worth valuing in life?
I once asked a 9-year-old who was getting ready to move from one state to another what she would miss the most in her new town. No surprise, she answered, “my friends.” But when I asked what she thought her mom would miss the most, the response gave a startling indication as to what this little girl thought her mom valued (outside of her family, of course). Ouch. Let’s just say it wasn’t her friends…
We often hear about the introspective statements of dying people, who tell us how unimportant a clean house is in the grand scheme of things. These same people wish they had more memories of “time spent with family and friends” then “time spent working.”
I get that. I think most of us do. But it’s the day-to-day living that gets in the way sometimes, doesn’t it? I mean, the vast majority of us have to work and clean our houses, at some point, right?
I have a beautiful old mirror hanging in my upstairs hallway. It used to be my grandmother’s and I have always loved it. The other day I noticed it was missing. Upon further investigation, I found it in one of the girls’ rooms. The organized and practical side of me (that’s code for “I like to have it my way”) wanted to storm into her room, retrieve the mirror, and tell her not to take precious things off the wall like that again without asking.
I most definitely thought about it, but I didn’t do any of that.
Instead I considered why she took the mirror. Turns out she felt self-conscious sharing the bathroom mirror while getting ready for school in the morning. Instead of whining or complaining (two traits I most certainly do not value), she sought to solve her own problem. She found another mirror and set up her own personal grooming station in her bedroom.
While her solution wasn’t exactly what I might have chosen, that initiative showed a certain level of maturity I hadn’t seen in her before. And when I got over my own selfishness, I realized this: I am often suggesting that my kids are old enough to solve some basic problems on their own, and she did just that. I value motivated, self-starters like that (and — just thinking long term here 
— I think a lot of hiring managers do to).
OK. So I have to remember that this parenting thing spans a lifetime. I’m still learning stuff from my parents, so why should I expect my kids to pick it up in just a few short years? It’ll come. And in the meantime, I am grateful for these chances to see glimpses of the amazing women my daughters are molding into…
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