I stood in a bank lobby talking with a friend. We had talked for some time when the friend’s teenage son approached. The son waited anxiously for a few minutes, obviously looking for an opportunity to interrupt. His father ignored him even though he was clearly aware of his presence. Finally, the boy broke into our conversation with, “Dad, I’ve got to go to work . . .” The man turned to his son and exploded, “Why are you so rude! What’s wrong with you? Don’t you have any manners?”
I tend to think of manners as a two-way street. The son had clearly tried to wait for an opportune moment to get his father’s attention. The dad might have excused himself from our conversation for a moment. (Or, if I’d had greater presence of mind, I might have said, “It appears that your son needs you. I’ll fill out my deposit slip while you talk.”)
Instead, a well-intended father was trying to teach his son patience by making him wait needlessly, and humility by humiliating him. Neither worked. Whatever lesson the father intended, the boy was more likely to feel humiliated than instructed.
When we are irritated, embarrassed, or angry, we are rarely qualified to correct. Sometimes, it is terribly difficult to hold back a clever observation. When our children suffer because of their own bad choices, we may be tempted to point that out. When they seem cocky, we may want to cut them down to size. And sometimes we are simply embarrassed by our own mistakes and find it easier to blame the child than ourselves.
As the indignation surges, a voice inside of us gently reminds us that we should not make our terse observation.
As the saying goes, it is never a good idea to burn down a cathedral just to fry an egg—even when we are terribly hungry. To torch a relationship in order to feel clever or exonerated is equally shortsighted.
Torn between the temptation to correct, level, or humble the child, and the invitation to be kind and helpful, we sometimes silence the better voice and say the very thing we knew we shouldn’t say. The impulsive response can feel almost irresistible. It seems so much easier to do what comes naturally.
Sometimes the devil cloaks evil in virtue by telling us it is our duty to correct errors in our children. It is our job as parents to let them know when they are out of line. It can feel quite wrong to stifle that message. The Lord described this impulse when He said that “when we undertake to cover our sins, or to gratify our pride, our vain ambition, or to exercise control or dominion or compulsion upon the souls of the children of men, in any degree of unrighteousness, behold, the heavens withdraw themselves; the Spirit of the Lord is grieved; and when it is withdrawn, Amen to the priesthood or the authority of that [parent]” (Doctrine and Covenants 121:37).
The Lord is not warning us against teaching or correcting our children. He is warning us about what happens when correction is directed by pride, anger, control, or humiliation.
A wise voice within us encourages us not to speak when we feel frustrated and judgmental. That is why we should put off until tomorrow what we know we shouldn’t say today. If we make an agreement with ourselves to never speak in haste or anger, we honor the angels of our better nature. As we allow time to settle our souls, we can see the irritation in perspective. We should not call in a full armada to quell a tempest in a teapot. When we are calm enough and balanced enough to see our children as good people doing their best, maybe we can be helpful.
Many years ago, as I wrestled with proper ways to correct our children, the Lord taught me a principle that has stayed with me: I only have the right to correct those I am actively loving. If I am feeling impatient or judgmental, I am not prepared to correct. The irony in this principle is that when I am wholeheartedly loving my child, the urge to correct commonly evaporates. Or, if there is still some need to correct, it is done in a spirit that is redemptive rather than punitive.
So, rather than let untamed correction spill out of us, we can resolve to hold our tongues when we are upset. Then we can use that time to regain a heavenly perspective. When we feel loving and appreciative, the message we deliver is likely to be helpful, and a great number of irritations won’t even need to be discussed.
If love is not directing the correction, postpone the correction. Many irritations need no correction at all. They merely need Tums® and time.
Reflection
Think of a time when you resisted making a cutting or angry remark.
• What helped you hold your tongue?]
• How did waiting change the way you saw the situation?]
• What could help you pause the next time irritation surges?]
Applying This Strategy
☐ I ask Heavenly Father for help.
☐ I remember (with gratitude) past successes with this strategy.
☐ I ask myself, Does this strategy fit me? If not, can I adapt it or should I discard it?
☐ I plan my response for next time the challenge arises.
☐ I imagine or pre-experience the better way of responding.
☐ I try it out.
☐ I keep refining my efforts—otherwise known as repenting.
Invitation
Are you interested in bringing more peace and compassion to your relationships? Do you like audio books? I recommend The Compassionate Heart: Uplifting Your Life and Relationships. It can show you how to make every relationship better!
