The baby (who is actually 15 months old, but will be “the baby” for approximately forever, since she is probably the caboose on a train of six) uses a pacifier. Exactly half of my children have used a pacifier. Exactly half of my children need braces. They happen to be the same half. Okay, I don’t know yet that the baby will need braces, but the odds aren’t looking good.
So I am trying to wean her from the pacifier. The other day, I put the pacifier on the table and the baby on the floor, and I went about my business. Shortly thereafter I hear the pathetic weeping begin. When I come into the dining room, there is the baby, gazing up through her tears at the pacifier out of reach and making her adorable language-like noises. I try to distract her. Nothing doing. Finally, I give in and give her the pacifier. The tears dry up, and—this is the icing on the cake—she toddles over to me and gives me one of her affectionate hugs.
Then it hits me: she is positively reinforcing me. Is this how parenting is supposed to work?
In fact, it probably is. A huge part of the spiritual journey for me as a parent has been becoming teachable—allowing the experiences of motherhood to reveal to me where I need to grow and to mold me for the better.
My kids might argue that I don’t this particularly well, and they would probably be right. But motherhood has at least shown me, in glaring relief, how I need to grow (whether or not I accept the invitation). Being teachable is such a challenge, because I am a teacher by profession—and not a student. Both professionally and as a parent, I’m the authority figure. And that is necessary. The spiritual danger comes in whenever I decide I’m the authority figure in all aspects of life, including and especially my own.
But I’m not an authority on my own life, in fact. My plan for my life is pretty small and unadventurous. My plan doesn’t send me far out of my comfort zone. It’s a recipe for ease, not holiness.
God the Father’s plan for me, on the other hand: now there’s an adventure. God the Father’s plan involved six children for me, something I neeeever considered back in, say, high school or even undergraduate college. And if that plan can’t make me holy, nothing can.
Angela Franks teaches theology for Saint Joseph’s College Online.
Hi Dr. Angela, I appreciate your candidness. Motherhood is indeed a humbling, joy-filled, awe-invoking roller coaster of a ride that does let you know that you are definitely not in charge! I noticed that when I finally did surrender my own control and just became “teachable” with my boys a whole new world of wonder opened up for me. I saw things as a child again. It was so freeing. I wonder if that is what Jesus is asking of us in all of our interactions in life when he says to his disciples in Matthew 18:2, “Amen, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will not enter the kingdom of heaven.” I know my children have taught me many things to point me toward the kingdom and God’s amazing love!