The Person is the Message

I love the Focus on the Family Broadcast. If you don't listen to it, get the app and tune in. It's almost always a bright spot in my day. Last week, David Brooks, the New York Times columnist, was a featured guest. The interview focused on his most recent book, "The Road to Character," which is now on my to-read list. During the on-air conversation, Brooks said something I instantly knew I needed to hear: "The person is the message."

Later that day, I went and wrote it on a bright white 8.5 x 11 sheet of paper and attached it to the side of our kitchen pantry with blue painters tape, next to several other inspiring quotes and reminders I've put up over the last couple of years.

"The person is the message," I wrote.

And I added below it:

"I am the lesson my kids are learning."

You may be wondering to yourself how I could find something that simple and obvious to be so profound. It's true that we've heard over and over again since childhood that "actions speak louder than words," but for some reason it's been hard for me to always remember and apply that basic lesson when it comes to parenting. Of course I try to model good behavior for my children, but despite my best efforts, I fail over, and over again. And usually in the same areas. I get frustrated and lose my temper or I find myself feeling annoyed too easily, often over trivial matters. Why can't it be easier to overcome our weaknesses once we recognize them?

The people who have taught me the most in life aren't those who have spoken the most eloquent words, had the quickest whit, or even those who shared the most spiritual insight; the people I've learned the most from are those who live their every day lives in a way I admire. People who are filled with character and who model, as David Brooks called them, "the euology virtues" rather than the "resume virtues." I'm sure you can imagine what he was talking about.

I want to be that type of example and practical teacher for my children. And I, like all of us, can do better.

I want to:

Be selfless.

Serve others.

Be a good listener.

Speak only kind words about others.

Assume the best of others.
Minimize technology use.

Enjoy hard work.

Try things that are difficult.

Be self-reflective.

Willingly admit mistakes.

Say I'm sorry.

Be humble instead of angry.

Avoid comparison.

Accept criticism with grace.

Give others grace.

Give myself grace!

Be thankful.

I constantly pray and think about how I can mother my children better. How I can help them gain strong faith and develop a relationship with Jesus Christ; how I can teach them to be peacemakers and learn to be kind even when they don't get their way; how I can get them to love to work hard without expecting reward or recognition. After this recent reflection on the fact that it's me who is the lesson my kids are learning, I've decided I need to spend less time worrying about how I can push and prod my children into becoming wonderful people (although they are doing pretty darn well on their own anyway). Instead, I want to spend more time forging my own path toward our mutual goal of becoming loving souls filled with character. As I clear the path a bit ahead of them, they'll be able to better see our destination and, hopefully, want to follow me there. And it won't surprise me a bit if it's I who will eventually be following them. It won't be the first time it's happened with these amazing kids of mine.

Although this isn't a totally new insight, thinking of my actions, rather than my words, as my children's teacher has proven to be a game-changer in the last week at home with my children. I've found greater patience and more joy as a mother as I try to react to difficult parenting situations like a tantrum, sibling argument, or disobedience from the perspective of what behavior I want to model for my children rather than what lesson I want to teach them. And it's so much easier to control myself than it is to try to control my five little people.

As an interesting parallel, the familiar refrain of "what would Jesus do" is so much more powerful than the possible substitute "what would Jesus say," isn't it? The person truly is the message.