A Chink in the Armor

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Subtitled: People in glass houses.... 

Last week I found myself verbally finding fault with the way other people raise their children.  Not one particular person, but a general group, by saying something to the effect of, "How could they not see the affects of such and such choice?" I passed judgment, and I should know better. Throwing stones always ends up biting me in the butt.

The chickens came to roost over the weekend when I learned I had made a huge parenting mistake. I allowed my own desires to corrupt my child. Sounds serious, doesn't it? The child I "ruined" is an adult child, so I don't think I ruined him for life or anything, and I probably didn't expose him to anything he hasn't experienced in his journeys out into the big bad world. Nevertheless, there was a chink in the protective armor of my mothering, and my son was nicked by the sword of our culture. That fact really stings because I have been so, so careful keeping my children protected as long as I could.

The mistake was simple -- easily made -- but not easily fixed. I always say to my children, about their television viewing and internet surfing, "Once you've seen or heard something bad, you can't make it go away. You can't go back and do it over."

We are members of Netflix, and I learned this past weekend that I have not been scrupulous in my choices of entertainment for my husband and I. We don't watch R rated movies, but occasionally PG-13 rated movies make it to our queue, and occasionally I don't check these out thoroughly before they make it in the mail.

This past weekend there was a new movie sitting around -- Date Night. I can't remember why I put it in our queue, but I did, and the movie arrived in the mail late last week. I didn't think anything of it, having it lying around the family room waiting for an opportunity to watch it in the evening. My 19-year-old son saw the DVD around and because it was rated PG-13( he thinks he is old enough for carte blanche with PG-13 movies, even though his mom says he's not) and because it features one of his favorite funny guys, Steve Carell, he watched it late Saturday night on the portable DVD player he took to his room. On Sunday evening, I went looking for the DVD to pop it in for Doug and I, and I couldn't find it. After searching and searching I decided it might be prudent to ask the boys, and Joshua did, in fact, have it.

When he gave it back to me with a sheepish smile I had a thought that maybe this movie was not appropriate for a child (because though he is 19, he is still very much my child). After about five minutes of the movie I realized I was right, and after 30 minutes Doug and I decided to turn it off. It was verbally crude and raunchy (though not visually graphic) and I was just plain embarrassed that I had reserved it. My husband, who is not normally embarrassed by crude humor, even made a snide comment about "nice choice." Ouch. The worst part of the movie was that is completely misrepresented married life in an ugly, ugly way.

This may not seem like a big deal to you, especially if you have young children who are not "at risk" from worldly corruption. But as a mother, I felt that I had really let my family down. I personally brought trash into my home and accidentally exposed my child. It was I, the mom who blocks ninety percent of the cable channels that come into our home. It was I, the mom who guards the computer, not just with net nannies, but with my own eyes, only allowing them access to the computer when I am supervising. It was I, the mom who checks out every movie they ask to see, reading parental reviews and nixing movies for the slightest depravity. It was I, the mom who homeschooled, in part to protect them until they were formed enough in faith in God to face what our culture has to offer. It was I, and only because of my own desires, that risked demoralising my own son.

I have beaten myself up over the past few days, but now I have decided that I must move on and be more vigilant than ever.  You see, on my refrigerator is a saying that I firmly believe, but failed to act on. It says:

Christ is the center of our home,

a guest at every meal, 

and a silent listener to every conversation.

I truly believe this statement to be true, but I should be embarrassed at that which I have exposed Our Lord. We're not potty mouths, we don't view pornography, or graphic violence. But I failed to strive for perfection, that which Our Lord, and my family, should have. I let just enough of the filthy world into my house, that I shamed myself in front of my family, and in front of my God.

I have made a vow to be more vigilant, and to make some changes at home to help make Christ a more evident part of our daily life. Not just with prayer, or faith formation, but with constant reminders that He is with us. This is a touchy topic with teens, I have learned. If I preach, they roll their eyes, if not literally, then figuratively. But I think there is a way to give them gentle reminders that Jesus is with us, and I'm not just talking about hanging a crucifix in each room. Our children, especially our older children, need more than a reminder of Our Father, and Our Redeemer on the cross. They need reminders of a living Lord, who was man, who walked among us. Our children live in such a visual and surround-sound culture, they need to see Jesus, hear Jesus, in order to feel Jesus.

I am brainstorming some ideas that I plan to implement at home (or things that I already do but plan to make more noticeable), but I would love to hear your thoughts as well. I will write another post addressing these ideas, so stay tuned....

Edited to add: Continued here.

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