God Is a Terrible Mother

Oddly, I've found myself reading the prophets of late.  Amos, Hosea, and hilariously, Jonah.  Jonah made me laugh out loud.  Poor, poor Jonah.

What strikes me now is what struck me the last time I checked in with ancient Israel's finest:  God is a pansy.  But now with the deeper wisdom that comes with parenting small people (and surely it does bring deeper wisdom, right? there is *some* upside to this journey, isn't there?), I see that it isn't so much a character failing as a Parenting Fail.

There are several thousand books on parenting.  I will save you some time and sum them all up.  Granted I have not read each of them, but I am certain that each, at some point along the way, will say some version of this:  The only thing that matters is that you're consistent.  It doesn't actually matter which philosophy or technique espoused in any given tome - what matters is that you apply said philosophy or technique universally so that your children know what to expect.  Say what you mean, and mean what you say. Consistently.

In fairness, I'm not sure how many parenting books were around for the Creator so maybe (S)He didn't know.  But a quick read of the prophets reveals quite conclusively that The Lord is Not Consistent.  Most certainly, The Lord has not figured out the other cornerstone of parenting, Following Through.

If I had a nickel for every time I AM says "I am done with you! For real! Done! If you don't clean this place up I'm smiting the lot of you!" I'd buy a new couch.  And if I got another nickel for every time that same I AM says, "Okay, well, maybe a few of you can stay. You are my favourites after all, and I love you guys...", I'd get the loveseat and ottoman too.

It is no surprise to any of us who have bothered to actually read about how to raise children that Israel is still in therapy.

Jonah, having survived the old fish ride finally passes along God's famous, "I'm serious this time" to the people in Ninevah and no sooner are the words out his mouth and there goes Ninevah weeping and fasting and promising never to do it again.  And of course, instead of following through, Jehovah relents again and after a bit of a hissy fit and a dying vine or two, Jonah says (this is the part that made me laugh), "I'm so angry at you I could die!"

I know, right?

Now it's possible that this isn't the lesson intended for us in all these prophets' stories.  And while I have enjoyed my initial, not-so-serious-take on it all, in my deepest (or at least deeper) heart, I am relieved.  So very relieved.  Because I know the rules, I know the standard.  And I know I'm not going to make it.  But it looks like maybe even before the whole Jesus Fixes It All part, even in those first stories, even then, God is a God who really is slow to anger and rich in love who has compassion on all that (s)he has made.

And maybe I need that more than consistency and following through.

Or maybe that is Consistent and Following Through.

Wherein I Submit My Writing

Sarah The Writer sent me a link to a request for submissions on NPR's website.  I am not sure that I this CBC-listenting Canadian is even eligible, but I sure enjoyed the opportunity to write for a deadline on an assigned topic.  What follows is my submission, now submitted to the cadre of readers who kindly encourage my ongoing attempts at writing. 

Thank you Sarah.

A.

The question: Has parenthood changed you? Was there a moment or incident that sparked the realization? Tell us about it.

I wasn't a bad person.

I mean, I wasn't criminally bad. Maybe more Square-Girl-In-A-Big-City bad. Certainly nothing requiring the involvement of police or the producers of "Intervention". 

And yet. And yet I entered motherhood sure that the journey would be my making. I was counting on birthing babies and simultaneously birthing my own New and Improved Me.  A Me that would be sweetly gentle, prone to acts of selfless goodwill who reveled in surprising joy.

I'm not aware of an exact moment when I realized it had not happened. Perhaps it was the night (is 3am night or morning?) I stood over my wailing seven-week old and hurled obscenities that would make a trucker blush, urging her to please-god-stop-crying.  Maybe it was the one of the afternoons I realized that my toddlers had a closer relationship with Cesar Millan than was probably wise, and then next realized it was a small price to pay for an hour of uninterrupted email reading.  It may have been the time I ate six chocolate cookies at once so that I wouldn’t have to share Every. Freaking. Thing.

The details are fuzzy, but the truth made itself all too clear: I was still a Not-So-Great person.  Parenthood hadn't changed me at all.

However, I am surrounded by kind people who love me and who love our small people who have pointed out that while I am still Just Me, I am a lot more of Just Me than I was when I started.  Certainly I am More Angry, More Impatient, More Tired than I ever was prior to my babes' arrivals.  But happily I have moments when I can see that I am also More Loving, More At Rest, More Generous and sometimes even More Forgiving - of myself and of my people.  My not-so-greats remain not-so-great and sometimes even worse than they ever were, but my goods… my goods are so greatly improved, so deeply wonderful, if I may say so.  My only hope is that my children will grow up able to remember most clearly the Good Good and somehow forgive the Terrible Awfulness that appears to be inevitable.

Oh that I had been changed into a kinder, gentler person. The world would have rejoiced, it is sure. Instead the world must content itself A Little Bit More of a Lot Of The Same.  As must I, I guess.