The Writing Parent

Of all of the parenting decisions my mother made when I was in middle school, perhaps the one I am most grateful for is how she chose to write about me.

My mother spent several years as a professional writer. She pursued that occupation with an energy, resilience, and enthusiasm that was inspirational. She was quite prolific during those years, but there is one piece that was published that I particularly think of as “my book” —  a book of prayers for children transitioning into adolescence called Junior High’s a Jungle, Lord.

The summer after my seventh grade year, I went away to a summer program for several weeks. My mother missed me so much that she wrote a book in a voice that she imagined might be like my own internal voice.

She took experiences of my own and experiences of hers when she was my age and she fictionalized them. She wrote in the first person, from the point of view of a fictional me – she entered imaginatively into what it might feel like to be someone like me in a school like my school. The whole project was arguably an exercise in empathy, which is, after all, what intercessory prayer requires. And if a person is writing prayers for someone to pray for themselves and their peers, then in a sense, that writer first is praying on the reader’s behalf.

In the work, what I saw as a thirteen year old was a mother who thought deeply about me and my experiences, who was making an effort to understand me, and who missed me when I wasn’t around. It was heart-warming.

It helped that I got to read it in manuscript form, so I didn’t get blind-sided by what she had chosen to reveal, as I sometimes did when my Dad would use me or my siblings as a sermon illustration, bless him. And in any case, she wasn’t reporting on facts – she was using my experiences as a jumping off point for an imaginative work. Anything that didn’t scan with my own experience of events I could brush off as artistic license.

Now, as a parent myself, I see my mother’s books as an example of how to parent in public. Writing about one’s parenting struggles may be honest, but parents need to remember that, at some point, their children learn how to read. And (a concern my mother’s generation could not have anticipated when they had children at home) how to use an internet search engine. When we are writing about parenting for other parents, we may, ironically, be forgetting that we are parents – that we have children who are perfectly capable of listening in on the conversation.

When instead we write for children, we are not forgetting that we are parents — and hopefully we are further remembering what it will be like for our own children to read what we have written, and perhaps even to meet people who have also read what we have written. (Though Christopher Milne might have qualified that with the response, “Not necessarily.”)

Of course, it is also possible to write for grown-ups in a way that remembers that our children will grow up – but never forgetting that their relationships with trusted adults (and particularly with their parents) requires a respectful discernment about what information is appropriate to share with any person who could ever come across it. Some things are best reserved to be shared at carefully chosen times within intimate relationships with known people. That isn’t dishonest: it’s setting healthy boundaries.

There are a number of concerns that I have struggled with pertaining to writing for public consumption, and this one is near the top of the list: once something is published, you don’t get to chose who reads it. It is out there for literally anyone, at any time now or in the future to consume and then interpret, without any further mitigating input from the writer.

I have been reading Let the Children Come, by Bonnie J. Miller-McLemore. I highly recommend it, but not without any reservations. Her central idea is something I have believed for a long time myself, and she puts it extraordinarily well early on in the book: “children must be fully respected as persons, valued as gifts, and viewed as agents.” (from the author’s Introduction)

However, I also have many disagreements with her book. I was going to say, “many small disagreements,” but I think that the implications for some of these ideas of hers that I question may be – at least, let’s say, non-trivial.

For instance, in the very beginning of her introduction, Miller-McLemore articulates the need to which her book responds with an extended reflection on the difference between parenting very small children and parenting older children: “Perhaps that is why [Anne] Lamott and other women have written powerful accounts of early motherhood but seldom delve into experiences of long-term parenting. After the first few years, the waters become incredibly muddy.”

Leaving aside for the moment that this book was written in 2003 and that Lamott has written a great deal since then (not to mention all of the new figures that have risen up to write about parenting in that time), it does seem that there is a lot more written about life with babies (and toddlers and preschoolers) than memoirs about life with older children.

Certainly I wrote a great deal about my daughter earlier in her life, but I have made few blog entries related to her in the past couple of years. (She is now 10.)

Speaking for myself, that is not because parenting a child this age is “muddier” or more complicated, or because I am trying to hide from my inconsistencies as a parent (which are, as I am a human being, positively rife), or because my daughter doesn’t do anything wonderfully inspiring anymore (she inspires me every day!), or because it eludes my abilities to say anything meaningful about this time in our lives.

Instead, I write very little about her because I am trying to be thoughtful about how best to share our stories, in a way that not only respects her privacy and her wishes now, but that respects our relationship into the future.

I wanted to record her earlier experiences, in part because I knew that she would not remember them, and I feared that I might forget, too. As she has gotten older, I have remained interested in writing, especially in writing about children and their integral role in the kingdom of God. But I have been becoming increasingly thoughtful about how to do that in the way that love demands: with a respect for the particular people of all ages that I have been blessed to get to know in person.

 

What I’m reading now

I’ve been ill for the past few weeks, so I have been spending a lot of time reading. Here are a few of the titles that have been keeping me company:

Prayer, by Karl Barth – I picked this one up in order to better answer a Sunday school teacher’s question about the Lord’s Prayer. In addition to a translation of some of Barth’s lectures on the Lord’s Prayer, there are also several essays interpreting the way prayer functions in Barth’s theology, and some of Barth’s own pastoral prayers. This is Barth at his most accessible, speaking about our most familiar prayer. I am so glad to be re-reading this one!

Wearing God, by Lauren Winner – This is shaping up to be my favorite book by Lauren Winner yet. Or at least since Mudhouse Sabbath. Although Still was also so good. If you have not been reading Lauren Winner, you have been missing out! This is a great place to start. In this book, Winner examines Biblical metaphors for God, including the metaphor from which the book receives its name: God as clothing. I am reading this one slowly – a few pages every time I am needing a spiritual infusion.

The Half has Never Been Told, by Edward E. Baptist – In the introduction to his book, Baptist writes, “The idea that the commodification and suffering and forced labor of African Americans is what made the United States powerful and rich is not an idea that people are necessarily happy to hear. Yet it is the truth.” Baptist spends the rest of the book sharing the historical data that leads him to this conclusion. Groundbreaking.

Southern Cross, by Christine Leigh Heyrman – If you have ever wondered how the South went from fortune seekers and carousers to the Bible belt, then you will find this book as fascinating as I do. I have an “a-ha!” moment on almost every page.

A Mercy, by Toni Morrison – Alongside my slow moving parallel non-fiction reading, I usually have a novel that I am speeding through. Most recently, I finished this Toni Morrison novel set in the pre-Revolutionary war Atlantic Coast colonies. It was (as has been my experience with other Morrison novels) both gorgeous and devastating – and convicting. So many of our lives are a series of lost opportunities to see other people as they really are.

What have you been reading?

Picture this!

Duke Gardens, Autumn 2014

Duke Gardens, Autumn 2014

I have had a Flickr account since 2011, solely for the purpose of viewing my friend Will’s photos of his travels and his family. But today I decided that it would be fun to actually start sharing some of my photos – so I began uploading a few items to Flickr.

The photos that I have published over there are licensed under a Creative Commons non-commercial, attribution, share alike license. Which basically means that as long as you say where the photo came from, and you don’t make money off of it, and you let other people use the photo, you can use it to illustrate your blog, presentation, worship service, school project, or whatever.

Enjoy!