Sometimes I really, really hate my job. My responsibility. My calling. My role. Yesterday was one of those days... yet, the job must be done.
The job, the calling, the role, is parenting. Being a parent is tough. It is truly not for the faint of heart or the sap - especially when it comes to discipline.
I had to punish two of my boys; more extremely than a simple talk, sending to their rooms or taking something away for a while. This was physical. Yes, I am aware of the possible risk of publishing physical discipline in a blog.
Know this, we are spankers [you can say it like the Farmers Insurance commercials if you want - We ~ Are ~ Spankers! bum--bum,bum-bum,bum,bum]. I know that does not sit well with all parents, but I don’t care. We are not abusive. We do not punish in the heat of anger. We use only a specific tool for the job - a paddle [not a belt, spoon, stick, water hose, inner tube, lit cigarette, etc.] all of those items have different jobs, and I do not use them to strike my children. I know that sounds condescending and pointed; good. I have strong opinions on various forms of physical discipline.
Discipline is the point, of course. The point is not to have an outlet to express my own frustration and anger, it is to correct and straighten my child’s incorrect behavior and understanding of what is acceptable. Yesterday, I hated having to do that job. I always hate having to do that job.
Two of my boys were disobedient with me to a degree that not only made me angry, but also seemed to indicate they had no care that they were out of line. That is a huge problem. It is one thing to need to modify behavior, and another thing entirely to modify attitude. See, the minute my verbal instruction and cues are disrespectfully disregarded and then that behavior [and attitude] left unattended, a downward spiral of continuing disobedience and disrespect can ensue. By itself, that moment of disobedience may be blown off by me as “no big deal”, but that demonstrates a lack of self discipline in me as a parent [and biblically you might say it also demonstrates a lack of love]. Over time that in itself "disciplines" them into an entirely different way of thinking. As Barney Fife would have said, “you have to nip it in the bud.”
We were 20 minutes away from home when I began my speech about how disappointed, angered and deeply bothered I was by what had just happened. I could see it all over their faces, they knew they were in for it.
They knew that when we got home, they would be sent to their rooms immediately. They knew they would sit their wondering what would be next. Would Dad just come in and talk? Would Dad take something away? Or, would Dad come in with the spanking paddle?
I guess to some degree I contemplated all of those things as well. However, I knew. I knew my step was to go in with the spanking paddle. The sheer terror of that alone is disabling... for me that is. It kills me to have to do so.
I hate having to crack open that door and see a face change from hope to conclusion. I hate seeing that instant when the reality of the next few moments sets in. I hate the sound of the pleading, the crying, the begging for a stay of execution. It makes my heart hurt. Let me also clarify that these moments are actually pretty rare for our house. There are many forms of penalty that we implement before and instead of spanking. But sometimes...well, anyway.
I always know my plan before going in. I also strike my own leg to remind me of the “feel” of the paddle and the sting produced. This is a practice I have always done to reinforce and remind myself that it is the effect, not necessarily pain that matters. That being said, it does hurt. This form of punishment requires so much energy, and focus, and enough time to be correct in it.
The worst part, for me, is immediately following the punishment. I dread what may come from the mouths of my children. Are they going to scream that they hate me? Are they going to declare that I don’t love them? Are they going to weep in a pillow and refuse to listen to anything else I have to say? So far none of that has happened. None of those words have been verbalized. Tears? yes. Weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth? Dramatically yes. Grabbing and rubbing their own booty? indeed. Saying things they regret? No, never.
They will will ultimately come to me, sit next to me, climb into my lap, rest their head on me, snubbing (mostly from fear and anticipation more than actual pain), and then... they listen.
This is where it all comes together. This is when the effect of mature parenting and discipline must take place. It is at that moment when the full lesson of the importance of self-discipline, obedience, and love is fully reinforced. It is at this moment when they see an authoritative, stern, focused, restrained, and loving father communicate the importance of good personal judgement.
I always tell them how important my job as their Daddy is. I always tell them how much I hate having to punish them. I always tell them how much it hurts my heart. I always tell them how much I love them. And, I always tell them that I love them too much to allow them to get away with whatever they want. And then, there is repentance. There is forgiveness. There is restoration. There is course correction. And there is peace.
Most times, one of the greatest opportunities to demonstrate God’s attributes to our children is in times of discipline and course correction. After all, God disciplines us as well... because He loves us too much to not correct our course.
Hebrews 12:5b-6; 11
5b MY son, do not regard lightly the discipline of the Lord, nor faint when you are reproved by Him; 6 for those whom the Lord loves HE disciplines, and HE scourges every son whom HE receives.
11 All discipline for the moment seems not to be joyful, but sorrowful; yet to those who have been trained by it, afterwards it yields the peaceful fruit of righteousness.
