An Open Letter to Our Friends about Our Kids

Our kids need you.

Having kids–no matter their age–is tough. Life tugs in all directions. Our parents need us, our jobs demand us be at top performance, volunteer and church opportunities are always beckoning, marriage fires need flaming, and who even has time for hobbies most days?

Parenting is a full-time job and as our kids get older, it demands much of our time and even more of our hearts. Especially in the teenage years, and even into the young adult ones. We try to be the best parents we can be, but sometimes we feel like we’re not.

Sometimes our emotions get all tied-up in the everyday that we lose sight of the big picture. We get caught up in the little-stuff frustrations and forget the beauty of all that our family holds. And we’ve even been known to get caught up in the pride that we might be getting it right when they accomplish some big things that some of the little things fall off our radar.

That’s why we need your help.

We decided when our children were young that we wanted an abundance of adults in their lives. We are blessed to have lots of family–grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins–but we decided long ago that we wanted even more. Someone wise had told us that we couldn’t have too many adults loving on our children and speaking truth into their lives. We took that as a challenge and we’re thankful we have you. Our heart friends.

We invite you over a lot. We not only gather around the supper table, we do lots of fun, simple things together. We fire up the grill, haul out the ice cream churn, take the boat out on the lake, or wet a fishing line from the farm pond dock. We kayak the river and ride sleds down the hill.  We roast marshmallows around a campfire, and play cards around the kitchen table. Building a relationship with you has been intentional.

Intentional because we want our kids to know who to trust. We’ve spent years growing that with you. You not only share time with them, you share countless memories and laughs. You even share heartache.

You gathered around Papa’s bedside in his last days and in the waiting room to pray with us as Daddy’s heart was removed and re-plumbed. You’ve called to check on us when we’re sick or been held down by life’s dark moments. You had the kids over to spend the night, because you knew we needed a break. You’ve chopped wood and worked cows when life had us tied up. You brought us food and hugged us tight when we lost loved ones. You prayed for us while in the trenches of Alzheimer’s. You’ve been there.

Yes, we want our children to know who will be there when life get’s tough. Though we’ve fostered open communication, we don’t assume that they will bring everything to us. Let’s face it, they’re not going to talk to their parents about everything. Sometimes we are just too emotionally vested to give the advice they need, and that’s okay.

So, we need you. We need you to celebrate their joys and share their heartaches and tough spots. We need you to listen. We need you to speak God’s truth to them. We need you to have tough conversations with them.

Sometimes we become blind. Hang-ups can creep into our lives and theirs. As parents we sometimes become too exhausted in the day-to-day parenting and miss some things. Others we know about and we’re just too weary to have that fight again.

We need you.

Just like we want you to love us enough to gently and humbly reveal our weak areas, we want the same for our kids. We want you to help them grow and become better people, too. You have proven countless times that you love them and have their best interest at heart.

We give you permission to rely on that relationship we have spent years cultivating to help us grow good and godly attitudes and behaviors in them. We know you’re not perfect. It’s okay. We like you that way, because we’re not perfect either.

Make a pact that you’ll not look back on your past mistakes and be afraid of being called a hypocrite if you help them with theirs. We all messed up. We learned from it. Now, we can share those lessons.

But they’ve heard all of ours. They need to hear yours.

When we’re intentional about parenting, as we’ve tried to be, our correction can quickly become nagging. Everything they do we see as a pre- to every mistake we made. We get scared. Sometimes we avoid, and sometimes we nag.

They tend to grow tired of our suggestions and corrections, but when it comes from a heart friend like you, then the nag becomes a nudge. A nudge that helps them soar when they’ve been afraid to fly. A nudge that helps them identify their own weak spots and adjust. A nudge that helps them identify risky behaviors before they become life-changing ones.

Yeah, it’s easy to celebrate their mountaintop achievements with us and encourage their victories, and we thank you for every party you’ve attended, every milestone you’ve cheered, and every pat on their back for a job well-done. We applaud and appreciate you for that, but we need you in the trenches, too.

We need you to love them in the tough stuff. Love them enough to keep your ears and eyes open, not to gain knowledge that will make you feel better about your own parenting or your own kids’ mess-ups, but to keep them safe. To rescue them.

Love them enough to talk to THEM when they’re in danger, not to our friends or theirs. Talk to them, not about them. Don’t ask their friends to chat with them. You do it. Please.

Love them enough to tell them you saw them driving recklessly. Love them enough to ask them if they’re being a good and kind friend. Love them enough to tell them they’re living dangerously. That their little compromises can soon lead them to the brink of destruction.

Love them enough to tell them you miss seeing them at church. Love them enough to ask them if they’re giving their schoolwork or their job or their friendships everything they’ve got. Ask them if they’re living and loving like Jesus. Love them enough to tell them their words are hurtful.

Love them enough to ask them if the rumors you heard are true. If they are true, then they might need help. If they’re not true, then they deserve a chance to set things straight.

Love them enough to keep the things you hear or the things they share confidential. Please don’t break the trust they’ve spent years developing with you.

Please, friend. Ask them. Tell them.

They’ll listen. Because they know you love them.

It will be hard, but do it anyway. When you do, we promise you some things, too.Because we love you.

We promise not to become defensive and justify their actions or our oversight of them. We promise to push back the idea that you are questioning our parenting skills. We know your heart. We’ve spent years together. You know how hard we try, even if we don’t always get it right. We know you see the best in us, even when we don’t see it in ourselves.

We will trust your intentions.

We know that you love them that much. We love you enough not to point a finger back at you. We love you enough not to say, “But what about YOUR kids? Maybe you should spend your time focusing on yours and not ours.” We promise not to do that. We love you enough.

We also love you enough to do the same for your children–the ones we love like our own–if that’s your desire. We’re in this together. We’re friends. Heart friends.