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I have a daughter whom I love and cherish, but whom I would not readily choose to be mine to raise. She has all the qualities I have previously admired from a distance, but have never had to live with, or had the responsibility to influence.
She embodies feistiness, determination, hot-headedness, energy, and confidence in abundance. And her need for people, attention, and company is insatiable. She never keeps still and her desire for constant and varied occupation remains the same now as it did when she was 18 months old.
I love the bones of her buoyant, outgoing nature, but her 7-year old self accepts nothing as given: E-V-E-R-Y-T-H-I-N-G is open for debate. And when foiled her eyes dart furiously, her mind ticking, looking, searching for the way through what she has been presented with to find the way back to what she wants. Alternatively she reverts to the oldest trick in the book... good old fashioned nagging (or throwing a strop!).
There is not a request or instruction that is accepted without question, and there is nothing I can confidently expect in response to either routine or instruction.
And it's exhausting.
Because while she pushes against me, the need to hold the line is constant, as is the need to lovingly reaffirm the boundaries, to repeat the instruction, and to deliver the consequence if disobeyed. And while the aftermath leaves my girl seemingly unchanged, it oftentimes leaves me feeling overwhelmed and plain old discouraged.
Our relationship at times feels like a battleground, a clash of heads, and a toxic repetition of hopeful expectation and disobeyed instruction.
Parenting is hard. And never more so than when you are constantly pushed against, challenged and defied.
Parenting is hard. And never more so than when you are constantly pushed against, challenged and defied.
What I've wanted most on the days where I've had the least to give has been someone to step in and take over, or to tell me that it'll be alright in the end. And more times than I've cared to remember, I've wanted to cave. I've wanted to give in to her defiance and resistance.
Why?
... Because it's easier.
... Because I don't have anything left.
... Because I'm fighting a losing battle.
... And frankly, because what difference is it making anyway...?
Right?
The gentle wisdom of a friend has helped me to discover otherwise.
One of the things that has held me in the battle on days where I've felt most alone, that has steadied my nerve, and given me the strength for another round, has been the wise words of a friend who reminded me on one particularly battle-besieged day that "Without a battle there can be no victory."
I'll say it again... "Without a battle there can be no victory"
"Without a battle there can be no victory"
W-O-W. Just WOW.
As I've rolled these words around my mind the truth and the power of them have struck me again and again. They’re so simple in their truth, but so weighty in their implication. Everything that I am experiencing in raising my preciously fierce little girl is meaningful to a bigger picture. Without the battle there will be no ground taken, no change, no progress, and ultimately no victory. My persistence in challenging choices and behaviour and reactions means that—one day—there will be progress, and in God's good timing—victory.
The battleground is fertile ground and in it I hope and pray that one day it will bring forth strong and godly character traits that reflect the nature of our King.
But this isn't just true of my relationship with my little girl. This knowledge gives strength in almost every area of life.
If I don't fight that ongoing sin, I will never ultimately know any kind of victory over it. If I don't persistently pray, then I will never know the joy of prayers answered. If I don't engage those who don't know Jesus with the truth of the gospel, then I will never have the joy of seeing God work through me. If I don't climb that mountain, I will never see the view.
And so in the battle, whatever it might be, I am reminded to persevere—to “press on and to take hold of that for which Christ took hold of me” (Philippians 3 v 12).
Why?
Because it's a battle worth fighting. And because ultimately the victory—in Christ Jesus—has already been won.
The writer of this post has chosen to remain anonymous for the sake of her much-loved daughter.
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