| COMMENTARYParenting Pitfalls and the One 
                Who Saves UsBy Chris CarpenterCBN.com Program Director
 
 CBN.com - Please excuse 
                me for a few moments. I need to catch up on my sleep. I am just 
                going to lay my head down on my keyboard and hope that I don’t 
                hit any unnecessary keys that will type some sort of cryptic message. 
                My fear is that I might awaken Star Wars Nation and turn them 
                against me.  There, this is quite comfortable. Just going to lay my head on 
                the old keyboard, my nose resting on the asterisk and … 
                Ahtoautohej ajdohtaotljadopug 1wornalsdeweyu=-462395(^(*%^*%*%. I’m awake! It appears from a quick translation of the Naboo 
                language that I have just announced to the world that I am Luke’s 
                father. Not exactly, but I am Taylor’s dad.  For you see, the reason for my weariness is that I became a first 
                time father a little more than a month ago. Like most new parents 
                will tell you, there is nothing, I repeat, absolutely nothing 
                that can adequately prepare you for such a wonderful yet frightening 
                phase of life. I discovered very quickly that my days are not my own anymore. 
                The era of sleeping until 10am on a Saturday morning is long gone 
                (unless of course I want to prop the baby up on my chest and allow 
                him to rip my chest hairs out strand by strand). Impulse shopping 
                sprees are a remnant of the past as the budget is much tighter 
                than it used to be. A romantic dinner and a movie has been replaced 
                by a bath, a bottle, and an early bedtime. But you know what? It is all worth it. My boss told me shortly before Taylor’s arrival that I 
                had nothing to worry about. My sleeping patterns would be virtually 
                unchanged because all newborn babies do is eat, sleep, and go 
                to the bathroom. What he forgot to tell me is that they also cry 
                very loudly, especially in the middle of the night.  I will never forget the first day we brought him home. As our 
                car pulled around the corner and onto our street, we couldn’t 
                help but notice two helium filled "Baby Boy" balloons 
                tied to our mailbox announcing our subdivision’s newest 
                citizen. “How thoughtful,” remarked my wife, as she removed 
                Taylor from his car seat for the first time. I must admit, I too, thought it was an incredibly nice gesture 
                on the part of our Sunday School class. I would think otherwise 
                by the end of the day. Not 10 minutes after we arrived, the door bell rang. Fifteen 
                minutes later it rang again. Five minutes after that? You got 
                it, someone else was at the door. Our doorbell did not stop ringing 
                for the next five hours. I counted 17 people either sitting in 
                our living room, gathered around the kitchen table, or in one 
                case, someone sleeping under our baby grand piano.  At one point, I remarked to a woman who was sacked out in a recliner 
                flicking channels on my television set, “Hi, I’m the 
                new father. I don’t think we have met. And you are?” “Oh, how silly of me,” she replied, extending her 
                hand to shake mine. “I live on the next street over. I was 
                on my way home from work and I saw the balloons. I just love new 
                babies so I had to stop and see him.” All I could say was, “Well, thanks for coming. We appreciate 
                it.” Needless to say, by the time the last well wisher departed shortly 
                after 10 pm, my wife, my infant son, and myself were dazed, confused, 
                and wondering what might come next.  It was now time to put the baby to bed. However, there was but 
                one slight problem. Young Taylor was too large for his bassinet. 
                His flailing arms draped over the side like willow branches hanging 
                over the edge of a river. These sleeping arrangements were not 
                going to work. So, our precious son’s first night in his 
                new home was spent in the crying arms of his mother while his 
                befuddled father spent one of the longest nights of his life trying 
                to figure out a way to “widen” the bassinet without 
                breaking it. Fellow dads, heating the wood up with a blow torch 
                only scorches the wood, it will not bend it. Trust me.  Early the next morning, I ventured to a local store specializing 
                in babies and purchased a crib. The sales associate had never 
                had an easier sale. Something else I have discovered in my four weeks of parenthood 
                is that mothers possess some sort of magical, comforting touch 
                that father’s certainly do not, or at least I don’t. 
                I can be rocking our squirmy, fidgety bundle of joy and no trick 
                in my arsenal will calm him down. Of course my arsenal consists 
                of reciting the starting lineup from the 1975 Boston Red Sox to 
                him, singing bad disco songs by the Bee Gees, or thrusting a stuffed 
                turtle named “Turtle Turtle” within millimeters of 
                his face. Nothing seems to work. I often feel as if I am being 
                mauled by a small, persnickety bear cub. Then as if she is some 
                sort of svengali, my wife will casually stroll into the room, 
                scoop him up from my arms, and within two minutes he is sleeping 
                like a hibernating bear in February.  The last four weeks, while challenging, have been some of the 
                most rewarding days of my life. Changing Taylor’s diaper 
                for the first time is a moment I will never forget. Let’s 
                just say he “showered me with his affection.” I will 
                also never forget the second time I changed his diaper. Collecting 
                smelly substances in my bare hands like soft serve ice cream to 
                save the bedspread was certainly a first for me. Just this morning, 
                my glorious young son put on a formula spewing exhibition for 
                the ages. When he had completed his great feat, he looked longingly 
                up at me with his big blue eyes and … laughed. The boy laughed 
                at me! But I wouldn’t have it any other way. Adding this gift 
                from God to our family has created an entirely new dimension to 
                who I am, who my wife is, and who we are as a couple. Gone are 
                the days of living our lives on impulse but in its place is a 
                divine responsibility to raise this child to love and serve the 
                Lord. This responsibility is sacred. In his sermon at Taylor's baby dedication, our pastor said, "Parents, 
                your children are a gift from God and you are to give thanks to 
                Him for bringing them into our lives. You must promise to train 
                them in the things of God, always looking to Him for divine, wisdom, 
                guidance, and strength. How true. In Psalm 78:5-7, it says, “For He established a testimony 
                in Jacob, and appointed a law in Israel, which He commanded our 
                fathers, that they should make them known to their children; that 
                the generation to come might know them, the children who would 
                be born, that they might arise and declare them to their children, 
                that they may set their hope in God, and not forget the works 
                of God, but keep His commandments.” As parents, we have much to teach our children about the ways 
                of God. We have life lessons to share if we are only willing. 
                We must make our children realize that we love and respect them. 
                We must help them with their mental, spiritual, and emotional 
                needs as well. It is God’s plan for parents to teach and 
                to have our children learn from us so that they might share these 
                same principles with the next generation.  While the aforementioned paragraph may seem like a daunting, 
                even an impossible task, we should not shy away from the principles 
                set forth but embrace them. As parents we will fail at times. 
                That is inevitable. But if we derive our parenting skills from 
                the fundamental laws set forth in the Bible, we cannot fail. We 
                will be challenged mightily, but He will not let us stumble. In Jude 24,25, the author writes, “Now to Him who is able 
                to keep you from stumbling, and to present you faultless before 
                the presence of His glory with exceeding joy, to God our savior, 
                who alone is wise, be glory and majesty, dominion and power, both 
                now and forever. Amen.” As parents, we must realize there is another presence with us, 
                closer than we even know. He will keep us from stumbling and return 
                us to safety. He goes before us, walks beside us, and follows 
                behind. He is our refuge and safeguard from all of the parental 
                pitfalls that face us. In Him, we are secure as parents. The next time you have a 3am feeding and your precious son or 
                daughter will not go back to sleep no matter how hard you try, 
                remember that our mighty God is there with you each and every 
                ounce of the way. Portions contained within this article from 
                the Transformer Study Bible.
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