Teaching Moment

One assumes that every parent wants to teach their children to be compassionate, understanding individuals who are patient with the shortcomings of others. I am grateful for the experiences my children have in dealing with each other and with our large-but-close extended family. It shows them the different levels of ability we all have much more effectively than all my talking and lecturing. Moments where they are frustrated with the baby for crying, or the two-year-old for scribbling on their picture, or the four-year-old for being excessively whiny. I can stop and say, "Now, when you were his age, you could cry for three hours straight!...." or "I remember a story about your Aunt Lizzie, when she was four or so, and she drew her name in dry-erase marker all over the concrete front steps of our rental home..." and then follows a family story.

I am amazed at the power of family stories. Suddenly, Gabriella has one more connection with her aunt, and a funny story to remember. Now, Hyrum can laugh at himself and be more lenient with his younger siblings, because he knows what we put up with from his as a wee tyke. Hearing their own tales - and those of other people they never knew as little ones - helps them to remember that they have come a long way, and have a long way yet to go; to be kind and patient to those who are also on their own journey. My kids love hearing these stories, and I often hear them re-telling them to each other: "Lucy, be nice to 'Liza; remember that you were her age, you were crabby after your nap, too!" and "It's OK, George. I was a drool machine when I was a baby, too. I don't mind so much". Sometimes, I hear them telling the family stories to each other as a joke: "Hey, Hyrum, remember?..." followed by a funny story - if a Hyrum story, it usually involves potty humor - and then lots of giggling.

This carries over into relating with the rest of the world. At the gorcery store or the Library, if there's a little kid throwing a fit, my children will nod sympathetically, or maybe even try to distract and cheer 'em up. One time I remember specifically, we saw a man in a wheelchair. Lucy (I think it was her) pointed and said, "Look Mom! That man has a cool chair just like Grandma Mason!" And the man smiled. Suddenly a cringe-worthy, very embarrassing public moment turned into a smile-worthy event, because Lucy knows Grandma Mason, and thinks her motorized wheelchair is cool. And the time we were invited to walk in the county parade and hand out candy? There was a large group of special-needs adults there at one spot, many of them Down Syndrome. The girls enthusiastically handed candy to them, and weren't shy or afraid, because these people were just like Uncle Jacob, whom they play with all the time. What a gift our families have given us: the perspective to see all around us as equal children of God.

Here is an awesome article about a young man in a wheelchair, who is an athlete in extreme sports, or "hardcore sitting" as they quote him saying. It's what got me thinking about this in the first place. Go read it. It's not that long. Guarantee it will add sunshine to your day.