I’ve been musing a lot lately on the fall of man. It is shockingly instinctual for us as humans to run and hide when we’ve done something wrong. Our eldest, now almost 4, is a example of it. Gianna has reached the age where she knows that she has done something wrong when she’s chosen it. Whether it’s an impulsive smack to her brother as they argue or a snatched toy, most of the time she doesn’t need me to tell her that she made a wrong choice. What she needs from me most is help learning what to do next. Gianna’s first instinct is to run and hide from me when she thinks she’s about to get in trouble. Much like Adam and Eve, she is beginning to feel shame and guilt, and these new emotions are unsettling for her. G has never responded well to raised voices, and now more than ever, I am realizing that she needs the quiet, calm voice of her mother to call her out of the shame and into a position where she can take responsibility for her actions and move forward.
Apart from being a parenting issue, this, like so many others, has an important spiritual component. How will my children ever learn to run towards God when they are in trouble, if I don’t first teach them to run to me and their father? That’s a daunting thought that has kept me awake nights in prayer. I guess I always thought that the ability to just run straight to Jesus after sin was purely a gift of grace, but now as a parent, I’m realizing that it is something to be taught. I don’t mean that it’s not a product of grace, but aren’t we as parents meant to be teaching our children to respond to grace? As parents, we are their first impression of unconditional love, we give them their first taste of the goodness of the Lord. Part of my job as G’s mom is to teach her how to be receptive to grace and how to run into Jesus’ arms. If I can show her her how to come to me when she makes a mistake, she will unlearn the habit of hiding from shame and guilt, and things like going to confession for her sins down the road will become second nature.
I am constantly reminded of St. Therese lately, who if you can’t tell from the name of this blog, is a favorite intercessor of mine. Her childlike faith has always astounded me and called me higher in my own faith journey. She has already become a friend to G, for which I am so grateful. These two quotes from her are ones that I am meditating on as I help my daughter learn the value of virtue and discipline without breaking the will God gave her.
“You make me think of a little child that is learning to stand but does not yet know how to walk. In his desire to reach the top of the stairs to find his mother, he lifts his little foot to climb the first stair. It is all in vain, and at each renewed effort he falls. Well, be this little child: through the practice of all the virtues, always lift your little foot to mount the staircase of holiness, but do not imagine that you will be able to go up even the first step! No, but the good God does not demand more from you than good will. From the top of the stairs, He looks at you with love. Soon, won over by your useless efforts, He will come down Himself and, taking you in His arms, He will carry you up… But if you stop lifting your little foot, He will leave you a long time on the ground.”
“[M]ost of all, I follow the example of Mary Magdalene, my heart captivated by her astonishing, or rather loving audacity, which so won the heart of Jesus. It is not because I have been preserved from mortal sin that I fly to Jesus with such confidence and love; even if I had all the crimes possible on my conscience, I am sure I should lose none of my confidence. Heartbroken with repentance, I would simply throw myself into my Savior’s arms, for I know how much He loves the Prodigal Son.”
I am still praying through this new stage of G’s life, so if any veteran moms out there want to share their tips, please do. As I am a fan of practical tips and explanations, I thought I’d share what it looks like in practice at our house so far.
I try to always remember to keep my voice gentle and even, to listen fully and seek for the intentions. When I need to reprimand, I do, but from a place of love not anger (sometimes this means taking a beat and saying a Hail Mary in my head). I try my best to use natural consequences and to talk with her (at a 3 year olds level) about how her actions have affected me or the other members of the family. We talk through ways she can make amends, and then she makes the choice. There is usually a snuggle involved. And always, always, I remind her that she is loved no matter what she’s done, and that I will always be there to help her if she is in trouble.
Do I fail at this? Often. But I am also trying to remember to be like Therese, and to run into Jesus’ arms when I do, and ask forgiveness and for more grace to love more fully and more deeply this family he has given me.