The Best Way To Raise A Child

Another dream…

This time I was a young woman, newly married.

My parents had raised me with simple Christian values, but they never felt the need for us to go to a church, read the bible, or pray. And that was fine with me as well, for I could see that we were doing o.k. on our own.

There were some things that I had strong beliefs in,
and one of them was how a child should be raised.

When I became a mother of a beautiful baby girl,
I spent as much time as I could with her,
Convinced that this was the way to bring them up successfully. My husband, her father, was away busy working, and did not have much time to spend with us. But every little lesson she learned, I was there beside her.

I realized, when she was around a year or so,
That I should not just give her everything she wanted,
For then she would end up a spoiled brat.

So there were times when I told her no, for example when she wanted to open a certain cupboard door, and it would be dangerous for her health and safety if she did so.

At first she cried, and showed her temper,
But soon moved on to other explorations.

She grew up to be a beautiful and caring girl, whom I loved greatly.

I had a second baby girl, when my first was almost eight, and I brought her up in the same manner as I did the first.
She also grew up to be a loving, caring, and giving girl. For this reason, she was one I was also very close to, all of my life.

I had another baby girl about five years after the last one, and began raising her up as I had the first two.
After she was a few years old, I realized, that for some reason, she was slightly less thankful for something that would be given to her, than her older sisters had been. But I brushed this off as simply being a quirk of her personality. (She was more reserved in other ways as well.) But as she reached the older teenage years, she became wild and rebellious, which would hurt me greatly.

One day, when she was almost eighteen, (and incredibly beautiful with her model slim body and gorgeous waist length blonde hair,) she stood there, in front of her bedroom doorway. I had just gotten done refinishing her bedroom to the way she had wanted it done. I asked her, how she liked it, hoping this would make her thankful, for not even her sisters had been given such a makeover for their rooms.

“Yes,” she said, “it’s great. Perfect.” But then she gave a long pause, as if she was still considering it. “Well, almost. There’s just one thing still wrong with it.”

“What is that?” I asked her, eager to make the change.

“You’re in it.”

With that, she pulled a lit cigarette from behind her back, pulled a big drag from it, and then blew the smoke right into my face.

I gasped in shock.

Pain was then my response, pain that went so very, very deep. It felt like my heart was actually breaking, and then shriveling up inside. I did not know how to cope with such pain. I was immobilized.

How could my daughter do this to me? She knew she was not to smoke at all in the house. She knew that I was very allergic to the cigarette smoke. My eyes and lungs were already beginning to swell up.

I told her that I was not leaving, for this was my house, and if she really wanted to get away from me, then she should be the one to leave. I also told her that if she left like this, I would never bother her or be a part of her life again. It would be as if she was dead to me.

I had hoped that she would back down at this, but she acted like she was quite happy with it.

She packed up her stuff, and left me with great excitement, and as I watched her leave, I noted that she didn’t even look back once.

It took some time for me to recover from what she had done. In essence, she really did become dead to me. I was also resolved to have it remain this way in the future, for I felt I could not survive another blow to my heart like that one.

Several years after my third child was born, I had another baby, also a girl, and knew it would be my last. (I was old at this time, and was quite surprised at the news, for I had thought that my child bearing years were over.) This baby was doted on by my first two girls, as well as me. But I made sure she was still brought up like the first two had been.

She turned out fine as well, thought she had a way of trying to make sure that everything and everyone in the family was doing o.k..

The third (dead) child would call and talk to her sisters, but ignore me. When my girls then went to tell me how she was doing, I told them that to me she no longer exists, and to keep their news about her to themselves, and to not talk to me about it. If they disobeyed me and talked about her, I would ignore what they said and leave the room.

I supported the first two girls in whatever they wanted to do with their lives, and when they decided to leave the nest, I gave them my full blessing, and still supported them in making their own nest, when they requested my help or my opinion. I remained close to my first two girls, and even to my youngest one.

At one point, my girls told me that their (dead) sister wanted to get in touch with me, for she was getting married and wanted me to go to her wedding. I told them no, and that I didn’t want to hear about it. I no longer knew this person they were talking about. She had been dead to me for so many years now, and would remain so.

My daughters tried to get me to change my mind, but I refused.

More years passed, and at one point, while my youngest daughter and I we were walking around in a big mall, I seen my two older daughters coming towards us, with their arms linked around their other sister, the one still dead to me.

My first thought was ‘So…she’s still alive then,’ but I quickly shifted my eyes to look away from her. Even if she had somehow survived all those years, she was still dead to me.

I could tell that my older girls had hoped for a reconciliation, and probably figured that if I could just actually see her, then I would relent. But they were wrong. I knew the statistics, I had heard the heart-wrenching accounts of the other mothers who had to deal with their wayward, wild children. These kids would say they were sorry, but still go back out and return to the crappy behavior and actions that they had before. Why would I think that my child would be any different from them? There was no way I would ever go through that kind of pain with that child again. The girl she had once been to me had died, and someone else now occupied her body.

A few years after that, my girls told me she was pregnant with her first child. “Mom, they pleaded with me, “Don’t you want to see your own grandchildren?”

“Sure,” I replied. “But that woman’s children would not be my grandchildren.”

They gave up trying to get me to go see them, when they realized I still wanted nothing to do with her.

When my own children had children of their own, I would be the doting grandmother, and shower their kids with attention and presents. Their own children were respective and loving towards me, so caring for them was easy to do and caused me no pain.

But I knew that no matter what, that other woman and her family, would remain dead to me till the day I died.

 

I then woke up from the dream, with tears on my face.

*

I wondered, as I lay there in bed, still feeling the inner pain, coldness, and fear that controlled this mother, just what was the best way to raise a child.

It was clear, that simply spending time with the child, and raising the child myself, (instead of handing them over to the overflowing nurseries and then into the public school systems,) would not prevent such wild behavior.

When I went to the Lord about it, He told me that spending the time with the child was still of primary importance, but without an intimate one-on-one relationship with HIM, there would still be problems of this kind. When a mother spends that much time with her child, the parent can sense RIGHT AWAY when something is wrong, and can then petition the problem to Me, and then cast the demon away from the child. (This is done through My Word and through prayer to Me.) But if the parent doesn’t even believe that evil spirits exist, and can try to attack their children, (or of course themselves,) then there is much less hope of fighting off satan’s attacks.

It made me realize, how important a Christian’s spiritual viewpoint is. If they do not believe in evil spirits being able to affect them, then it is almost impossible for them to see some of the person’s negative and hurtful behavior as being separate from the person themselves. One then tends to take it all personally, as an attack on them. And they also might not have much hope of real heart-felt change. What they don’t realize, is that demons can set up and execute the attacks. In this case, the attacks were (at least,) on both the mother and the daughter. But for the most part, the heart of that person themselves, is still yearning for love and reconciliation with their family. And with Jesus, hearts and behavior CAN be changed!

*

“But Jesus beheld them, and said unto them, With men this is impossible; but with God all things are possible.”
(Matthew 19:26, KJV)

“The fear of the LORD is the beginning of knowledge: but fools despise wisdom and instruction. My son, hear the instruction of thy father, and forsake not the law of thy mother: For they shall be an ornament of grace unto thy head, and chains about thy neck.” (Proverbs 1:7-9)

“Even a child is known by his doings, whether his work be pure, and whether it be right.” (Proverbs 20:11)

“Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall.” (Proverbs 16:18, KJV)

“Now these are the commandments, the statutes, and the judgments, which the Lord your God commanded to teach you, that ye might do them in the land whither ye go to possess it: That thou mightest fear the Lord thy God, to keep all his statutes and his commandments, which I command thee, thou, and thy son, and thy son’s son, all the days of thy life; and that thy days may be prolonged. Hear therefore, O Israel, and observe to do it; that it may be well with thee, and that ye may increase mightily, as the Lord God of thy fathers hath promised thee, in the land that floweth with milk and honey. Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God is one Lord: And thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thine heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy might. And these words, which I command thee this day, shall be in thine heart: And thou shalt teach them diligently unto thy children, and shalt talk of them when thou sittest in thine house, and when thou walkest by the way, and when thou liest down, and when thou risest up. And thou shalt bind them for a sign upon thine hand, and they shall be as frontlets between thine eyes. And thou shalt write them upon the posts of thy house, and on thy gates. (Deuteronomy 6:1-9, KJV)

“And be ye kind one to another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God for Christ’s sake hath forgiven you.” (Ephesians 4:32, KJV)

* * * *

Because It’s Expected Of Him

A dream…

 I am a young believer, a girl, living out in the country, in a double bungalow duplex, with my older half-sister.
      

 Our parents had just died, and my older half-sister ended up getting control of all their resources. Instead of doing what my parents had wanted her to do, she spent all their money on her, and would neglect to pay the electric or gas bill, and other bills, until they were turned off.

 I soon realized that I’d be better off on my own. So I sheltered in a cardboard box, and gathered up my only possessions left, an old pile of discarded driftwood, that I had worked long and hard collecting from the shores of the nearby lake, and prepared myself to sell them, so I could get something to eat.
       

But suddenly, from across the street, the people who lived there, were grinding down their pile of scrap wood into woodchips, and had taken mine as well, and converted them into woodchips also.
      

Dismayed, I went to them and told them that they had taken what was mine, and that I wanted to be compensated somehow for it, because it was all I had to survive on.
      

They laughed at me, and made fun of me, yet did finally agree to compensate me.
      

They left a pile of money near me, as if it was to be mine, but they never came right out to give to me. I feared that if I took it, they would accuse me of stealing, and have me arrested, so I kept bugging them, till they responded to me. I heard them say the number 62, and seen them give me sixty two cents into my hand.
      

“Couldn’t you at least make it two dollars?” I asked them. “It’s all I have to survive on.”
     

 They laughed even harder at me, till their oldest son came out to see what all the commotion was about. When he seen me, and heard what had happened, he rebuked his parents, went into the till, took out sixty two dollars, stuffed them into his pocket, and took my hand.
     

 “Come on,” he said, still full of disgust for his family and what they had tried to do to me, “I’ll make sure you get what you deserve.”
      

They then poked fun at their son, asking him why he cared about me. “She’s a nobody! Why bother with her? She’s just a waste of time!”
      

Even his so-called friends couldn’t understand why he cared. “We know you’re not the caring type, Derrick! All you care about, is getting into the pants of the pretty and popular girls!”
      

“That’s not true!” I said to them in his defense. “He only acts that way, cause it’s expected of him! He doesn’t get into it like you think he does!”
      

“Oh, he gets into something all right, eh Derrick?” they snickered.
      

No matter what other’s said about him, I knew differently. Oh yes, I had watched him for years, and I knew that he would do what they said he did. But when I looked into his eyes, I didn’t see happiness or contentment in them, I seen regret and even sadness in them instead.
      

You see, I had long ago, fallen in love with him, for my God Jesus, revealed his heart to me, and let me know that there was someone good and wonderful, underneath it all.
      

Well, anyways, as he went about, buying me the things I’d need with the sixty two dollars, he grilled me about my beliefs in him.
      

More and more, he became enthralled by me and my seemingly odd beliefs about him. Less and less, he would revert to his old self, and more and more he would live up to the faith I had in him, till one day his parents told him that they should ‘adopt’ me legally, for then it would make things easier for him to be seen with me.
      

He told me, that my life would be much easier, if I would just renounce my God Jesus, and believe what everyone else believed.
       

But I told him, “How can I renounce the one who showed me how beautiful you really are inside?”
      

He then seemed to understand and accept my belief in my God.
      

He then asked me if I wanted his parents to officially adopt me.
 

I told him that I would love to be a part of his family, but that I’d rather not be adopted, because that would mean I would become just a sister to him, and that my feelings for him, went much deeper than that.
      

So in the end, we got married, and lived happily with each other.

 

 I then woke up.