I’ve been struggling with parenting decisions lately. Not one particular decision, but all of my decisions. As I struggle, it occurrs to me that we parents beat ourselves up a lot, but we have lots of reasons to do that since raising and forming and shaping a whole other human being is a HUGE responsibility.
Cutting ourselves some slack of course would probably help us rather than hinder us, but that’s hard to do when you’re responsible for a life. (I don’t know how God does it, being responsible for all of these human beings and loving them in spite of their failings. I suppose that’s why we call him “God Almighty” because he has mastered the stress that comes with parenting and molding and shaping his children.)
But I digress. (Don’t I always?)
I can’t recall one time in the lives of my children when I have looked back on a situation that stemmed from my decision-making and said, “That was the best decision I could have made.”
Sure, there were a lot of good decisions that worked well in the moment for me or for my children. But not once can I say that a decision I have made related to my life and to my children’s lives has resulted in the best decision for me and for my children.
I suppose I’m striving for perfection; for the right answer. It doesn’t exist. I know that. Yet I strive.
Help me out here. Should I relax and let go? Am I trying too hard to please everyone? Maybe I just need to have a little more faith that I’m doing OK and I’m not going to screw up these two beautiful little human beings whom I love so much.