A man was guiding several youngsters through the exhibits in a museum. He was obviously impatient with their side trips and slow pace. Finally, he blurted out, “Hurry up! If you stop to look at stuff, we won’t get to see anything.”
There is a certain comic wisdom in that contradiction.
Perhaps the man needed to take a deep breath and reset his internal clock to childhood-exploration time. If we are going to be effective parents, sometimes we need to do the same.
One day I looked out my office window and saw a mother unload her little girl from the car. While the mother retrieved her purse, the little girl trotted toward the sidewalk, where she discovered a line of ants busily at work.
I watched with interest as the mother caught up with her daughter. I expected Mom to give a cursory nod to the ants and then hurry her little girl along to their appointment.
She didn’t.
Instead, Mom knelt beside her daughter and watched the ants with her. I couldn’t hear their conversation, but it was clear that they were talking about and studying those fascinating little creatures. After several minutes, the daughter was satisfied and ready to move on.
That mother knew how to slow down and enjoy a breath of life.
Some people focus on their breathing as part of meditation. Simply noticing our breath can help us move from agitation toward calm. It can interrupt the rising tide of anger and give us a moment to choose what we want to do next.
Yet unless we meditate—or have trouble breathing—most of us probably don’t think much about our breath. It just happens. We take it for granted.
King Benjamin invites us to see it differently:
I say unto you, my brethren, that if you should render all the thanks and praise which your whole soul has power to possess, to that God who has created you, and has kept and preserved you, and has caused that ye should rejoice, and has granted that ye should live in peace one with another—
Mosiah 2:20–21, emphasis added
“I say unto you that if ye should serve him who has created you from the beginning, and is preserving you from day to day, by lending you breath, that ye may live and move and do according to your own will, and even supporting you from one moment to another—I say, if ye should serve him with all your whole souls yet ye would be unprofitable servants.
What if we turned breathing into a tiny prayer?
Each time we inhale, we might thank God for sustaining our lives.
Each time we exhale, we might remember our dependence upon His merits, mercy, and grace.
Breathe in: Thank Thee for life.
Breathe out: I need Thy grace.
That is not a bad spiritual setting for dealing with anger.
When irritation begins rising in us, our minds naturally start organizing the prosecution: This child should know better. How many times have I told her? Why does he always do this?
Instead, we can interrupt that familiar mental script.
Breathe.
Notice the gift of life.
Remember God.
Remember grace.
Remember that the child standing in front of us is also living on borrowed breath, sustained from moment to moment by the same loving God who sustains us.
Our problem has not magically disappeared. The child may still need guidance, correction, or a firm limit. But now we may be able to provide it without unloading our frustration onto the child.
My friend William taught me something about this. His life had been filled with serious challenges and disappointments. He suffered from muscular dystrophy and an assortment of limitations. One day Nancy and I visited him in the state mental hospital. As he approached us in his wheelchair, we asked how he was doing.
He said something I will always remember:
“I can breathe—and it doesn’t get any better than that.”
William reminds me to be grateful for the most basic blessings. When I consciously thank God for the gift of breath—among a million other gifts—I am a little less inclined to dump a load of unhappiness on a struggling child.
And perhaps there is another lesson in that mother kneeling beside her daughter to watch the ants.
Sometimes breathing deeply does more than keep us from getting angry. Sometimes it slows us down enough to notice what our children are noticing, wonder about what they are wondering about, and enjoy the small miracle that is happening right in front of us.
So, when the children are dawdling, questioning, spilling, interrupting, forgetting, exploring, or simply moving at a pace very different from ours—
breathe deeply.
There is life in that breath.
And there may be grace in the next thing we say.
Reflection
Think of a time when you slowed down, breathed deeply, and felt consciously grateful.
- How did it feel?
- What helped you get there?
- How did it affect the way you treated the people around you?
- How could you make that experience more common in your parenting?
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 the 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
Would you like to bring more peace, compassion, and joy to your relationships? If you enjoy audiobooks, I invite you to listen to The Compassionate Heart: Uplifting Your Life and Relationships. In it, I share practical, encouraging ways to understand others more deeply, respond with greater compassion, and bring more warmth and connection to the people who matter most.
