More Beauty Less MessSample

During my daughter’s teen years, I worried she’d reject many of the foundational truths I’d taught her. I knew she’d soon be out of the home, on her own, with no one to encourage her to attend church or read her Bible. She could decide to walk away from the faith entirely. Unfortunately, my growing concern turned my gentle reminders to more forceful nagging. Had God not intervened, I easily could’ve pushed her away, if not from Him, then certainly from me.  

The tension between us built slowly. 

Stilted conversations over dinner. 

One-word answers, and sometimes silence, to questions during family devotions. 

Disengagement during prayer. 

Even our afternoon walks, a time we’d both cherished since her stroller days, became strained. They often started pleasant enough, with her sharing some funny tidbit of her day, or perhaps a new hair tip she’d discovered. Halfway home, however, our conversation inevitably shifted to weightier theological issues as she tried to reconcile her father’s and my teaching with all the confusing rhetoric she heard at school. Led by fear rather than prayer, I was quick to respond, quick to refute, and much too slow to listen. And I know she’d acknowledge she did the same at times.

We both soured conversations that could’ve been beautiful and life giving. We weren’t trying to hurt or control one another. She simply wanted to figure things out for herself, and I was simply trying to teach. After all, wasn’t that my role? My God-given assignment as her mom? Yes, as much as hers was to grow and mature. But I’ve since learned I must first earn the right to be heard. She needs to know that I truly understand her—how she views the world, what she cares about and why. We both need to know we’re more interested in one another and our relationship than with being right. 

Isn’t that what we all need? To know that we matter even more than our views, opinions, and disagreements?

Scripture tells us love is patient, gentle, and kind. It’s not self-seeking or rude. It doesn’t interrupt, try to dominate discussions, or focus on winning arguments. She and I don’t always get this right. Some days I still forfeit conversations for lectures, and some days she’s impatient with how often I repeat old stories or fumble with my words. But we’re learning to slow down and listen well, because we’re determined to love one another well. 

Pause to consider your mother-daughter interactions. Do many of your conversations turn to lecturing or arguing? How might God be inviting to spend as much energy learning to listen as you do in trying to be heard?

~Jennifer Slattery