I love my children. I think sometimes I want so badly to see them succeed and becoming great young adults that I often interject my own ideas of what their perfect little lives should look like. I love them so bad that it literally hurts in my heart. I watch each making choices that are close to 180 degrees from what I thought they should do or would do, and I cannot see anything else past this major detour some of them have taken. I homeschooled my oldest three children through high school, and it seemed as though shortly after graduation, they became rebellious and lacked the very morals we instilled in them during our schooling years. One of my adult children had a girlfriend and a wife at the same time; one put us in such a position with rebellion that we called the police after he had run away from home one night; and the last one seems to have found she likes the game of lying, deceiving or withholding information from her father and I.
As a parent, I feel as though I failed these three somehow. I feel as though I did not give them the adequate tools they needed to maintain and stand firm in their faith. I feel as though they are surely testing their new found wings as young adults. I feel as though I need to fix what is broken in their lives. I realize I can’t go back and fix things. The one opportunity I had to give them the tools and reasoning they needed for life is gone. It is one of the worst things to have my kids hate me so deeply. What I do know about life, I want to share with them so that they can avoid mistakes, heartache and loss that I faced. I want good…I want the BEST for them. I realize their ideas of “best” differ from mine. I don’t know how or when those ideas seemed to part ways, though.
I love my children and I want what is best for them. For now, that is to not have me interfering in their lives.