Kristi Burden

We have a family spot in Colorado. I went there as a kid. Now we take our kids, providing a technology-lite, s'more making (and a little bit of trouble-making) experience. It's in Colorado, where the boundaries are loosened, that I was able to practice the needful maternal response to my kids' mild injuries. I remember one time in particular.

Across the river, behind our cabin sits a mountain with trails forged by campers before us. As per tradition, the cousins bring bikes or rent bikes and then behave dangerously, like boys do. I do believe that each of them have a Colorado scar; a story to tell.

On this occasion, my brothers and sisters, along  with my parents sat on the back porch to watch the boys walk their bikes up the steep trail and then ride down. We noticed that each subsequent participant accelerated their speed to outdo the one before them. (This wasn't the first year they'd rode down this trail. My nephew had been injured on it in a previous year.)

We decided it was time to tell them to do something else, being that injury was imminent, but not before our son Hayden came speeding down the hill. The handle bars of his (decades old)rented bike began to protest, jerking back and forth violently. He no longer had control and was headed for a boulder that sat between him and the river. The next thing we saw was a cloud of dust.

I had no idea how badly he might be hurt, but I forced myself to fix my contorted face into one that appeared calm, even  though ready to spring into action.  Surprisingly, he jumped up, threw his hands in the air and shouted "I'm OK!" Of course he'd earned some scrapes and bruises, but he was alright.

Though I would run to where he was to check on him, I was thankful for his immediate confidence.

There are a number of occasions that parenting requires that we assure our kids. They fall and scrape their knee, and then judge by our reaction, whether or not they're ok. They're often depending on us not to panic. Hayden had surgery on his arm at age seven.  Dramatically, the last thing he said to me before they rolled him back was "If I don't make it, I love you". You better bet I interjected that he was going to be fine.

I haven't just made this a practice with Hayden.  I've made it a habit with the girls too.  Sure, I've bandaged their boo-boos with Hello Kitty and Dora Band-Aids. I've planted kisses on bloody, gravel planted palms. I've sat up, on numerous occasions, a grand sick station; complete with a TV tray with comfort goodies. But along with these pampering pleasantries, I've always reminded them that they're ok.

So why is it that when their heart is injured I've been less than assuring?

A couple of mornings ago, our youngest, Rylie, was headed out the door for school.  I asked her how she was doing.  She looked straight at me and said "Well, there's really only one answer for that... It's that I'm fine...because if I say anything different it will start a big discussion about what's wrong...You can be honest with your friends without having to try to explain things when you're not having the best day...It's harder with adults".

Having been schooled by my eleven year old, I smiled and told her to have a good day and then pounced my brain cells on this true and relevant thought she'd shared.

She's right.

When it comes to my kids' emotional wellness, I can be guilty of feeding right into their insecurities. When our middle daughter was in fourth grade I asked her who she was sitting by at lunch.  When she replied that she'd been sitting alone, my appalled response told her that she wasn't ok and that this thing had to be fixed or life was doomed. I'm not thinking that helped.

The "You're OK" me that assures them that their cuts will heal needs to inform the "We can't have ANYTHING making you sad" me.  When our kids are feeling dejected and discouraged there's nothing wrong with kissing their hurt, but it can be detrimental to magnify their hurt. Kids are resilient.  I think sometimes, our convincing them they've been wronged, when they already know, holds them back. We can slow the healing process.

Parenting involves such delicate balance. Our care for them shouldn't hold them back, but instead should propel them to be stronger, problem solving, optimistic and growing people.

• Be aware. You can often find out more by observation than you can by directly asking how they are.
• Listen to them. Listen more than you give advice when they come to you with hurt. Be careful about appearing desperate or showing angry or vengeful feelings toward those who may have hurt them.  You may think this makes them feel supported, but this won't help them move along healthfully.
• Talk to them. Remind them that it's ok and understandable to feel hurt.  Remind them that you hurt with them when they hurt, but always end conversations with hope, reminding them they will be ok. Don't be your kid's Debbie Downer.
• Be careful not to coach too much.  This can make them feel inadequate to handle their own problems.  Pay attention to how your tips and concern are being received when they're having a tough time.
• Pray. Talk to God about the things your kids have opened up to you about and also the things you suspect might be bothering them.  Ask God to help them in ways you can't, remembering that he is the only one who is with them always and is the one with a plan.

Parenting isn't for the faint of heart, but for our kid's sake, we've got to toughen up.

I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being. Ephesians 3:16