Imagine You Have It

PARENTING BEYOND EXPECTATION After coping with thwarted childhood dreams, we press on with a desire to be a good companion to who we choose to partner our lives, hoping ultimately to become good parents. I had the marriage I first imagined for many years. Our children were born into the most loving, nurturing environment. It’s uncanny how the thing you work so hard to never imagine for your life can show up and completely re-define it. I don’t fully understand how two people who chose one another for life can spiral and hurt each other to the point of disconnection - but it happened to us. My sons were age fifteen and thirteen when the marriage ended. This is significant to me for so many reasons. I remember myself at this age transitioning from middle school to high school. I recall feeling so unsure of myself. I would go to my dad for my swagger and to my mom for my confidence. I found it difficult to keep up with how fast my world was changing. At fifteen I won a spot on the freshman basketball team, attended my first dance, and experienced my first kiss. My dad got the names, but my mom got the details. I’m not saying that my sons’ mother was out of the picture, but she was no longer living with us. The casual quick check-in conversations during breakfast before catching the bus to school, and while clearing the table following dinner, were no longer options for them. Those connections had to become more intentional, and I just didn’t see it. I felt pressure to be more maternal for them, but of course I didn’t know how. I realize that we all have different experiences, and that I shouldn’t assume my sons needed the same reinforcements I received growing up. When I think about how valuable that support system was for me at that age, naturally, I want to shroud my kids with that same nurturing. For me to make it, I needed my mom to be physically close. She and my dad had totally different roles, and there’s no way he could’ve guided me through my stuff by himself. It felt like I had her undivided attention during those years. That’s absolutely amazing, especially since I had five other siblings who felt the same way. My mother‘s approval meant everything to me, from childhood, until the day she passed in 2006. I always knew where my mom stood regarding my choices, and that was just fine with me. She was like a barometer. I’d check with her before making big decisions. She showed up for anything school-related, and I particularly recall a fourth-grade memory. One morning at Quindaro Elementary, Mrs. Berry, my fourth-grade teacher, announced that we were having a special assembly. As our class reached the bottom landing of the stairs, the elevator doors opened, and my mom stepped out with the school principal and district superintendent. I remember thinking, “What is she doing here?” As the entire student body filed into the music room, I noticed no other parents were there. Usually, the school assemblies occurred in the cafeteria, which allowed plenty of room for family members. My eyes were trained on her as she walked in and sat in a reserved seat near the front. “What have I done?”, I thought. “I know I’m not in trouble because she’s smiling and waving at me“. My mind was racing to discover what this moment was about. Dr. Orvin L. Plucker announced himself as the district superintendent. He said the purpose of the assembly was to celebrate one student for outperforming all fourth-grade students throughout the twenty-five elementary schools in a writing competition. “I am congratulating John David McConnell as the winner of this year‘s writing competition for his paper on the Industrial Revolution”. I was awarded a bronze medal, which was pinned on me by my mother. The entire room erupted with celebratory applause and cheers. My mom‘s tears, contagious as chickenpox, spread to my tear ducts as she hugged me ever so tight with approval. I have never wanted to be absent of that approval. Since that day, imagining ways to impress my mom became a quest. I came to learn that my happiness was not only my own, but also those rooting for me. Not everyone can say with absolution, they know who’s on their team. Who can say just how many external forces are responsible for powering our imaginations? Forty-six years have passed since fourth grade, and seventeen years since she died. Yet, every decision I make is funneled through the mom filter. Just because she’s not physically here, doesn’t mean I’m free to forsake choices she would honor. I’m not imprisoned by her memory, but morally guided because of it. My kids are now in their twenties, and even with all the disconnect that occurred as a result of divorce, I have well-rounded, amazing, respectful, confident young men. I have always imagined my children having the opportunities to display integrity and good character. I have imagined them thriving in their most tedious endeavors. God empowered their mom and I to parent them through the turbulence, and I am in awe that we did not wreck their lives. Imagine greatness for your kids. Speak favor over their lives. They’re only on loan to us from God until He reveals to them their purpose; so let’s be the best stewards we can be. I was a surrogate father (of sorts) for hundreds of kids during my twenty-seven years as a schoolteacher. If you genuinely make yourself available, God will cause your life to intersect with kids when they need it most. When kids don’t know how to imagine a better life for themselves, begin to imagine for them. Show them who they can be through your example. Mentor them through their insecurities by introducing them to biographies and autobiographies of winners who look like them.