Children change a marriage.
So says Elisa Morgan, president and CEO of MOPS International, Inc. She joined forces with Carol Kuykendall (MOPS director of communication) and turned the understated cliché (“children change a marriage”) into the title of a helpful book.
On the back cover: “Just when you and your spouse had achieved a satisfying balance in your relationship—it happened. Your first child arrived. Things have never been the same since…and they never will be.”
MOPS stands for “Mothers of Preschoolers.” I’m not a MOP; I’m a DOP (Daddy of a Preschooler.) Being a DOP is not easy; in fact, there are times when I feel more like a DOPE.
After eight years of marriage my wife and I adopted a baby girl from China. Our daughter’s name is Jade; she is three years old. She is changing our marriage. She isn’t done yet. She has reinforcements en route: a soon-to-be-claimed baby sister from Taiwan.
I’m a pastor; which means Jade is not only changing my marriage, she’s changing my church. She likes to heckle me when I’m in the putting forth my best effort to say profound things in fascinating ways (with humility, of course). Then there are the moments of exhaustion, frustration and hair-raising fits of panic. Such moments are a constant part of every pastor’s professional life; but now they’re waiting for me when I come home. I have nowhere to hide. I’m losing my ability to concentrate. I haven’t had a great night’s sleep in over two years. (A line from my DOPE’s prayer: “Give her this day, her daily nap…”)
It’s a good life, filled with great experiences. My little girl does something unforgettable every single day. It’s hard to take it all in; it’s getting much harder since she gave up her daily naps. (I keep praying for them; hoping against hope.) This past Christmas, Jade did something that re-awakened a part of my heart that should never have been allowed to doze off.
It was late in the evening; my parents had dropped by for a short visit. Jade was overly tired and out of sorts. Looking for some trouble, she wadded up a piece of wrapping paper and tossed it at her grandma. It bounced off grandma’s head. (FYI: I passed the test: I didn’t laugh.)
It wasn’t really funny. This was a major crime of disrespect.
I had to call a Time Out.
Jade sat in her Time Out corner, staring at the egg timer. After the buzzer went off; I led Jade over to grandma and instructed her to apologize. My daughter’s apologies are usually less-than-convincing. They’re more like forced confessions.
This one was very different.
Jade stood in front of grandma; not saying a word. I thought she was being stubborn, so I reviewed the script: “Jade, you need to tell grandma ‘I’m sorry.’” I had no idea of what was about to happen. Jade buried her beautiful face into her precious little hands, trying to make herself invisible. My heart was pierced. My eyes watered. She choked up and said, “I’m sorry, grandma” and then she broke down into sorrowful tears. I cried, too. I will carry this memory for the rest of my life; it will always be tender to the touch. My daughter was deeply ashamed; she was truly afraid. The sight of those emotions, in her, was very difficult for me to behold. She loves her grandma very much, and she was suffering through a moment in which she thought that her misbehavior had ruined the relationship forever.
Grandma scooped Jade up and gave her a big kiss. A few minutes later, grandma delivered Jade a Sippy Cup filled with warm milk. Jade received it with joy. Her face was radiant; she knew that everything was going to be alright. She laughed out loud; I was still wiping away DOPE tears.
Later that same night, I sat on our sofa and relived the whole experience. I wound up commending myself for acting like a super-dad. Recall: I’m the one who saw the wrapping paper incident, I called the foul, I enforced the Time Out, I led Jade into an opportunity where she could understand that bad behavior damages our relationships, and I master-minded the Sippy Cup full of warm milk token-of-goodwill scenario to bring healing closure to a stressful scene in her childhood story. I sat alone and thought, “Sometimes I amaze myself!”
It turns out that I wasn’t alone.
God was there (as always); and He had something to say (as usual) and it popped my bubble (not the first time). I’d been under His surveillance throughout the evening. He was bugging my secret thoughts. When the time was right, He moved in.
It was a DOPE bust.
Basically, God spoke to my heart saying something like this: “Pardon the interruption, Mr. Amazing, but when was the last time you felt that kind of remorse over something you did wrong? When was the last time your sinfulness caused you to experience real dread? When was the last time you were deeply ashamed for the disrespectful ways you treat other people? Think about how you tend to make amends: aren’t your apologies little more than forced confessions?”
That was enough for me; but not for God. He continued, “I’ve got three questions for you. First, would you agree that your recent sins are categorically worse than tossing a piece of wrapping paper at a relative? Second, would you agree that your feelings of contrition are nowhere near as deep as Jade’s? Finally, how do you think the state of your heart compares to hers?”
I’m still working on my answers. I need more time.
One of the ways that children change a marriage is easy to identify: they require us husbands to grow up and become their daddies. Unfortunately, some husbands are not willing to pursue this change. Many children grow up in homes where daddy often acts like a big baby. I know a guy who accuses his kids of ruining his life. Actually, he’s been ruining his own life since he was a teenager. I suspect that one day; when this man’s children are older, they will encounter their own problems and wind up blaming their father. It’s ironic. Men can’t raise kids if they won’t grow up. (I’m talking about the men growing up, not the kids.)
Growing up is hard to do.
Speaking for myself, I recall how easy it was for me to get away with childish behaviors in the early years of my marriage. I enjoyed being the center of attention most of the time. I was able buy all kinds of cool toys; and I never had to share with other people. When I got really upset, I could fuss and pout—usually without creating a great deal of collateral damage. Once upon a time, my wife put up with these immature antics. We used to joke about them. I thought that they were kind of cute.
And then a real baby moved into our marriage.
When that happens, husbands are shoved into a new role that comes with an unbelievable spread of difficult responsibilities. In my opinion, mommies usually inherit most of the early work; but daddies often feel like they’re doing most of the suffering. This is because we no longer get to mooch the benefits of our wives’ maternal disposition. They used to play along (for awhile, at least) when we acted like little boys. Once their dealing with real babies, however, wives will respond to our fussy whining by saying something like: “Would you grow up!?”
Maybe we do; maybe we don’t.
It’s not up to our wives.
It’s not up to our kids.
C’mon guys—let’s face the facts: it’s entirely up to us.
On July 1, 1935, a man actually wrote these words in his will: “Unto my two daughters, Francis Marie and Denise Victoria; by reason of their unfilial attitude toward a doting father…I leave the sum of $1 to each and a father’s curse. May their respective lives be fraught with misery, unhappiness and poignant sorrow. May their deaths be soon and of a lingering, malign and torturous nature. May their souls (abide) in hell and suffer the torments of the damned for eternity.”
Yikes! Now to be fair, I never met this man’s two daughters. Maybe they were first class brats that grew up to be horrible spinsters. Be that as it may, this terrible will does not describe two awful daughters, it describes one awful man. My guess is that he was a husband who refused to grow up and be a daddy.
I don’t want to be like that dope! I’m sure that you don’t either.
Time to grow up.
According to the experts, my daughters will probably grow up to marry somebody just like me. If you’re raising sons, then you’re showing them how to be a husband and a daddy; whether you mean to or not. That’s a lot to think about. And that’s not all. Also according to the experts, our children will probably grow up with an assumption that God is a lot like us.
Whether we realize it or not, we are programming the default settings in the young minds of our children. We’re showing them what a husband is supposed to be like; we’re teaching them what to expect from their heavenly Father.
Being a DOPE is a high calling.
The stakes are serious; every week I feel less and less qualified for the leadership role of fatherhood. When God hears those kinds of thoughts in my mind, He blows His cover by chuckling out loud (so to speak.) I’m glad He’s keeping me under constant surveillance, and I am relieved to hear Him tell me, “It’s nice to see you’re freaking out, Mr. Amazing. You’re a daddy, freaking out comes with the territory. It means that you’re actually starting to grow up. Congratulations! You don’t have to worry; you’re not really in charge, I am. If you want to be a great father, all you have to do is love your daughters, listen to your wife, and follow Me!”
That’s a great message of good news; it gives fresh hope to this old DOPE.
