That's not parenting. That's preferencing. You're raising the version of them that makes you feel successful, not the version God made.
When I was a single mom with four kids under three, my mother would hear the noise from downstairs — laughing, yelling, roughhousing, toddlers doing what rambunctious toddlers do — and she’d yell up to me, “Coi! Are you watching those kids?!”
“Nope! Jesus is my babysitter,” I’d respond.
She thought I was being flippant. She couldn’t understand what it meant to look at four tiny humans and one exhausted, overwhelmed version of yourself and realize: I cannot do this alone. My daily prayer was, Lord, there are four of them and one of me. I’m gonna need you to have my back.
And I was deadass serious. It was “survival Bible,” as I like to call it. I said it then out of desperation. I understand it now as stewardship.
You see, what I meant by “Jesus is my babysitter” is that I refused to allow myself to be consumed by worry and anxiety about all of the awful things that could happen to my babies or all of the things I might do wrong. Instead, I focus on what I do know. What the Holy Spirit is revealing to me about each of my children and the unique needs they have. Which version of me each child needs to feel love, belonging, and safety.
After all, my children aren’t mine to control. They are mine to raise and give back — whole. Or as close to whole as possible.
Most of us parent like we're gods. We overextend, overparent, micromanage, and compensate. We treat parenting like a collection of billable hours we can invoice and trade for a cushy retirement on the other end — perfect kids as proof we did it right. And when the outcome doesn’t match the effort, we’re devastated. We question what happened when “we did everything right.”
But parenting isn’t a transaction. It’s a trust. In 1 Samuel Hannah says,“I prayed for this child, and the Lord has granted me what I asked of him. So now I give him to the Lord. For his whole life he will be given over to the Lord.”
Hannah prayed desperately for Samuel. Then she gave him back. Not because she didn’t love him but because she understood her role. She was the steward, not the owner. She raised him to release him back to God.
That’s the model. We don’t get to keep them. We don’t get to control outcomes. We get to steward the process and trust God with the result. But most of us resist this. Because stewardship requires trust. And trust requires releasing control. So we compensate instead.
Compensating for our own childhoods. For what we didn’t get. For the mistakes we made. We make their lives about validating our choices. If they turn out “right,” it means we did it right.
That’s not parenting. That’s preferencing. That’s raising the version of them that makes you feel successful, not the version God made. And when we mistake our role as steward for the role of god, we don’t just overextend, we damage. We burden them with outcomes they were never meant to carry. Withholding the one thing they actually need from you: the freedom to be whole, even if that doesn’t look like what you planned.
Stewardship as a parent is managing your resources — time, money, talent — wisely to provide presence and provision for your child’s physical and emotional health. Developing them by mentoring and facilitating experiences. Using your expertise to enhance their experience, not control their outcome. Ensuring their long-term health and viability, not your reputation. Your job is to raise them emotionally healthy and give them back to God free from your unhealed spaces, unburdened by your need for them to turn out a certain way.
This mindset might seem a bit detached for such a big role, but it keeps us in check. It keeps us looking for opportunities to learn. It keeps us focused on our own unfinished journeys instead of being consumed with their journey. The comfort comes from knowing that no one understands the heights of joy and the depths of grief that come with being a parent more than our God.
Like everything else, we steward in partnership with God. But the bulk of the weight? That’s His. If we believe what we say we believe — that God is present, powerful, and capable — then we can release the outcomes we were never meant to control. Even when it comes to those we love most.
I wonder…
What outcome are you trying to control for your children that you need to release?
What are you compensating for in how you parent? What didn’t you get that you’re overgiving? What did you do wrong that you’re overprotecting your children from?
Where are your old wounds showing up in how you treat the family God entrusted to you?
I love you.
Coi Marie
Affirmations:
My children are not proof of my success. They are whole people I’m honored to raise and give back to God.
I parent in partnership with God. The bulk of the weight is His, not mine.
I parent the version of my children that God made, not the version that I have projected onto them.
If this landed for you, pass it on. First time reading? Catch up at afteramen.org.
