Category Archives: Paying attention
9 Quotes by Madeleine L’Engle on Children
Happy (almost) New Year!
In this little space of time between Christmas and New Year, it’s a terrific time for thinking and pondering, for planning and reflection …
And for spending time with children and family.
As a parent, when I think and reflect, my thoughts often turn to my children (who are growing up all too quickly).
This short video is a little bit from my heart about parenting, as well as a short reading from a book by Madeleine L’Engle on preparing our children for the future …
… with the gift of laughter.
Hope you enjoy it!
These quotes about children are from A Circle of Quiet by Madeleine L’Engle.
Like it or not, we either add to the darkness of indifference and out-and-out evil which surround us or we light a candle to see by. We can surely no longer pretend that our children are growing up into a peaceful, secure, and civilized world. We’ve come to the point where it’s irresponsible to try to protect them from the irrational world they will have to live in when they grow up. The children themselves haven’t yet isolated themselves by selfishness and indifference; they do not fall easily into the error of despair; they are considerably braver than most grownups. Our responsibility to them is not to pretend that if we don’t look, evil will go away, but to give them weapons against it.
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But where, after we have made the great decision to leave the security of childhood and move on into the vastness of maturity, does anybody ever feel completely at home?
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The best way to guide children without coercion is to be ourselves.
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No wonder our youth is confused and in pain; they long for God, for the transcendent, and they are offered, far too often, either piosity or sociology, neither of which meets their needs, and they are introduced to churches which have become buildings that are a safe place to go to escape the awful demands of God.
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I can’t think of one great human being in the arts, or in history generally, who conformed, who succeeded, as educational experts tell us children must succeed, with his peer group…If a child in their classrooms does not succeed with his peer group, then it would seem to many that both child and teacher have failed. Have they? If we ever, God forbid, manage to make each child succeed with his peer group, we will produce a race of bland and faceless nonentities, and all poetry and mystery will vanish from the face of the earth.
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The creative impulse can be killed, but it cannot be taught…What a teacher can do…in working with children, is to give the flame enough oxygen so that it can burn. As far as I’m concerned, this providing of oxygen is one of the noblest of all vocations.
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An I Q cannot measure artistic ability. A potential Picasso may be a flop at objective vocabulary or number tests. An I Q does not measure a capacity for love…How do we teach a child – our own, or those in a classroom to have compassion: to allow people to be different; to understand that like is not equal; to experiment; to laugh: to love.
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We are lost unless we can recover compassion, without which we will never understand charity. We must find, once more, community, a sense of family, of belonging to each other.
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We must not take from our children—or ourselves—the truth that is in the world of the imagination.
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Thanks for reading!
Which of these quotes was your favorite? (Or do you have another favorite quote by Madeleine L’Engle on children and parenting?)
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Gathering Days
Off they go gathering days in their pockets like so many found items, dandelion wands and stones that make magic, fallen leaves from trees and shells that could be from another world altogether.
But now it’s days that blend into each other like magic that can’t be undone … and as you kiss your son goodbye one morning you find that he is almost as tall as you, and your daughter has begun to borrow your clothes, and the youngest (who has always asked so many questions) now asks ones you have no answer for.
As they head out the door for another school day you want to tell them everything they will ever need to know (if only you knew it), so you kiss them back (and for the one not so much into affection, you simply say “I love you” and “Have a good day”) as you watch them head out to gather another day, hoping they will tuck it as tightly into their pockets as you do.
An Outside Glimpse
My four-year-old son had been going through a whiny phase. I found it difficult to hear his words clearly, and frequently told him (probably less-than-patiently) that I could not understand a word he was saying unless he spoke more clearly. Without the high-pitch accompaniment of whines. After my reactions, he usually just stopped trying to say whatever he had been saying. So I would feel bad for shutting him down, and he probably felt worse for not being able to express whatever he wanted to say.
My mom was driving, and I sat in the passenger seat. The three kids all sat in the back seat. My son was talking aloud to himself, which he rarely does. He was going on and on in a very impassioned manner so I tuned in to hear what he might be saying.
“No one understands me!” He was exclaiming to himself, building up a whole case in his little sing-song voice. I tried to reassure him that as long as he spoke clearly, he would be understood. I left it at that, although his self-talk continued.
That weekend, my sister came for a visit with her teenage son. I entered the living room that evening and heard my son telling a story to his aunt and cousin. They were sitting captivated as he narrated the entire tale of how we traveled from India (a couple of months before), including details on the airplane ride, the things he saw, ate, experienced.
After he completed his tale, I told him it was time to get ready for bed. He turned to go, but then added a final line to his narrative: “I need to go now and that’s about all the information I have.”
My sister was laughing so hard she could barely breathe. My nephew commented, “He knows words I didn’t learn until sixth grade!”
The next day, my four-year-old told his plane traveling story to someone else, who also looked extremely impressed. He added a few details, cut out some other parts and had to double back when he forgot something, beginning the story once more from that point on. He breathlessly reached the end of the story with, “And that’s the end of my story of how we came from Bangalore to America.”
Another successful tale. Another impressed listener. My son was happy once more. And I stood in wonder at that outside glimpse. Seeing my child through someone else’s eyes. His amazing vocabulary. His gift of storytelling.
Often, without even realizing it, we put our children in a box, labeled neatly with our perceptions and our assumptions. My son: the whiny one. My son: the strong-willed one. My daughter: the complainer. The boss. The sensitive one. The spoiled one.
Sometimes we put ourselves in those boxes too. But when we’re in boxes and they’re in boxes, we can’t easily reach out and connect. Maybe it takes an outside glimpse. Maybe it takes an intentional stepping out from those labeled boxes. Perhaps a recognition of who they are and who we are beyond those labels. To help us see just how special and unique each one of us truly are.
Beauty of the Unexpected
On a morning not too long age, after the kids had breakfast and we read some stories together, I told them I had a few deadlines to meet today. I asked them to please play nicely and not make messes (you know, the usual requests) so I could focus on my work and school.
I went a little further with my daughter. I showed her my list of things to do; on the right side of the paper, I had put the amount of time I assumed each task would take. It came to 13 1/2 hours. If I started that minute and worked straight, I would be done a little past midnight. I asked her to pray for me, so I could finish it more quickly.
I had been working at the computer for a while and got up to get something. When I came back, my daughter had made a little card for me and placed it on my desk. She saw me looking at it and looked the other way as if she had nothing to do with it.
Today I’m thankful for the joy of the unexpected. Like cards from children. Or hugs from them out of the blue. Or getting things done more quickly than expected. No, I didn’t finish everything on my list … I rarely do.
But there’s nothing like an unexpected card to keep me company while finishing my work. And to remind me of the things that are more important than to-do lists and accomplishment.
Summer Days a’Coming
This morning I saw a comment from an acquaintance on Facebook, about the upcoming summer break and having more time with her children. I followed the discussion thread, which got a little heated because of the variety of responses by mothers. A homeschooling mother was looking forward to summer for different reasons than her counterpart whose children go to school. Some mothers didn’t seem to be looking forward to the summer. One admitted there were times when she didn’t necessarily “like” her children, especially when they’re all at home. Another mother responded with, “How can you expect others to like them if you don’t like them?”
Yes, it was a little heated. After all, summer is around the corner.
Last week I did my finals for the semester. Tomorrow is my kids’ last day at school. I spent some time this week just thinking about and trying to plan for summer. Due to the busyness of the semester and other things going on at home and with my family, I feel that I’ve lost ground in my relationship with my children.
One of them has been going through a phase that is lasting longer than I expected. I’m starting to fear that it is turning into a perspective on life rather than a stage. This worries me because it has to do with having a “can’t do” mindset about things.
I know that, as a mother, my first responsibility this summer is to my children … as it always is. If one of them is going through something and it’s coming out through their words and outlook on life, it needs attention.
There are plenty of other things going on. I’m teaching courses for the first time in my life (and for a woman who still struggles with social anxiety, this is a huge thing. I’m shaking in my boots and though excited I’m asking myself, What on earth did I get into?)
As soon as I drove away from campus last Thursday after finals, my mind started racing ahead to everything I can read this summer, everything that I hope to write … and then skipped over to home improvement projects. My sister and her kids moved out this last weekend, so with the kids’ room changes, I have more than a little bit of cleaning and organizing to do.
I had to stop myself. I want the kids to enjoy their summer. A few years ago, I made a comprehensive (and overly ambitious) summer plan. Needless to say, we accomplished maybe one item on it. This summer, although I worked on a schedule of sorts, I tried to leave it a lot more flexible this time around.
I know they’re eager to swim this summer. After all, it’s Fresno and temperatures are already pushing past 100. (And I’m hoping that swimming will make up for my lack of exercise during the first five months of this year.) We’ll have chores and a Bible class before swimming/activity time, which will knock two things off my mental “teach-my-children” list.
Cleaning up after themselves, with the three of them living in the same room over the past year, has slid more than a little bit. Having chore time together will help us begin on the right note.
Bible class time is another thing that drifted to the back burner, during school days and even some weekends. That is one thing I need to keep as a priority. I know what grace and patience and faith my times with God grant me and I want my children to experience something of the same.
That’s the general idea of our schedule, at least the most important things: fun, faith, and family. I have a few other ideas/ projects/ hopes for the summer, but need to wait until I’ve had time to discuss them with the kids and see what they are hoping for.
So overall, if the discussion hadn’t already been so heated, I think I would say I’m looking forward to the summer. I’m excited about spending more time with my kids. I know there will be challenges – sibling disputes, messes left around, uninspired moments – but the prospects far outweigh any difficulties. After all, it’s a whole season of fun and sun and crazy-excited kids with the world ahead of them. What could be better?
What are your plans this summer? Do you go on vacation? Relax at the poolside? Tackle a family project? Please leave your thoughts and input below. We can share ideas about how to make this a great summer for both parents and children.
Never Out of Sight
Last week I experienced one of my greatest parenting fears. I am so grateful it only lasted for about three minutes, and that by the grace of God it ended well. Those few minutes were some of the longest of my life.
Aiden, five years old, and me
My husband and I, along with a few members of our extended family, took the kids to Yosemite. We were walking the trail to Bridalveil Falls when nature called. I took Allen, our seven-year-old, to the restroom. The two of us were a few minutes behind everyone when we headed up the trail. We met up with the first half of the group, who said that everyone else was a little further. So we kept on walking and within a minute or two saw the others off the trail checking out the stream that flowed down from Bridalveil Falls.
I looked, looked again … and noticed that someone was missing.
“Where’s Aiden?” I asked.
“He’s back with the others.”
“I just saw them. He’s not with them.” It took half an instant for it to register and then my mind hit high alert. My husband headed back down the trail with my sister and nephew. My dad raced on ahead and I followed behind with Jessica and Allen, holding their hands tightly and trying to look everywhere at once.
My greatest fear was that Aiden had fallen in the water. He loves throwing rocks and sticks into the water to see the big splash.
Allen asked me a question. I have no idea what it was. “Allen, no one knows where your brother is. Please just pray,” I told him. Tears came to my eyes. No one knows where he is.
A minute later, I was near panic when we turned the last curve before the waterfall viewing area. My dad stood there with a smile on his face. Next to him stood Aiden, holding his hand.
I breathed again.
I ran up to Aiden and grabbed all 50 pounds of him into my arms. “Where were you?” I asked.
“I wanted to see the waterfall,” he replied in his most matter-of-fact voice.
My dad pointed out an older man who stood to the side. “He kept an eye on him until we found him.” I turned to the man. A simple “Thank you” can never convey exactly how deep my gratitude was, but it was all I managed to get out. My words seemed kind of choked up somewhere.
I don’t think I gave the waterfall a second glance, though Jessica and Allen went up with my dad to check it out. I walked back down the pathway, where my husband met us and ran back to let the others know Aiden was okay.
Aiden spotted the stream and clambered over some boulders to find stones that he could throw into the water. I kept tight hold of his hand.
I thought of what I told Allen a few minutes before, that no one knew where Aiden was. It wasn’t true. Someone had him in sight the whole time.
Time to be a Child?
I meant to continue posting here in mid-February, after a break of about a month at the start of the year. We’re now in sight of April. Not only is 2014 well underway, but it’s nearly a quarter over.
In the past few months I’ve had a number of ideas for short posts on parenting. Lots of stuff has been happening in my kids’ lives, and in mine. I even started writing a few times, but nothing felt right. I’m not exactly sure why. Maybe it’s seeing other mothers with elaborate websites, thousands of followers and hundreds of comments, their parenting mission seeming very clear and successful.
And I look at myself, trying to keep a basic grasp on being a mom in the midst of school, work, writing, and a myriad of random and sometimes very time-consuming (and mentally or emotionally exhausting) issues that arise on any given day.
The other day I was trying to work on an editing project and couldn’t focus because Aiden had gone up to about 75 decibels with his fire truck noises and Allen was describing to Jessica his idea for a new Tigger movie (and she was telling him exactly how it should really be done). I finally told them, “Guys, go play in the backyard so I can focus.” Of course as soon as they went out there, I wished I could join them. I turned back to my editing and still couldn’t focus because I felt guilty for having lost my patience with them.
It’s not their fault their room doubles as my “office.” I know more space would not necessarily be the answer. That’s the problem, I guess. I don’t really have all the answers. The answers on how to be an awesome parent. … Or I do know some answers but fail to implement them.
Maybe I am approaching it the wrong way, looking at things like the negative of a photo. Thinking I see a picture, but the colors are inverted so that light is dark. So dark. Maybe it is not that I should be trying so hard to be the mom sometimes, but to be more of a child.
We read a poem by Robert Frost in my English class today, about a man thinking of tree climbing (among other things). We talked about nostalgia and happy childhoods and looking back over these times with an element of longing and perhaps regret.
I am not a child anymore, but my kids are. And perhaps I should be that more too … by just being rather than trying so hard. By climbing a tree or playing shadow tag, blowing bubbles or sitting down on the floor and building a stack of colorful blocks right up to the sky. Maybe then I won’t have to worry about looking back with regret and longing, knowing I made the most of every moment.
All that to say, I’m going to try to begin posting in here again, if nothing else to keep some sort of track of my days as a mom of three young (and rather awesome) kids. I’ll try to post some things by other moms too, whose books I’ve read or am reading, and who capture the essence of motherhood so much better than I can.
If you’ve read any good books or seen a great quote on parenting, please share it in the comment section below. Or if you have any other thoughts you want to share on parenting, I’d love to hear from you.
One Day They Will be Grown
It’s not easy, in the midst of a myriad of parenting duties, to keep in mind that one day these children will be grown. One day – sooner probably than I realize – my influence in their lives will no longer be the same. Yes, I will always be their mother, but the mommy dynamics change drastically once they move out. Move out? Ack! (Breathe. Just breathe.)
One day each of my children will come to recognize their God-given calling and realize their life’s passions. One day each of them will reach the point where they have to decide what path they will take. Will it be the road less traveled?
I hope. I pray.
And I think that a major factor that will help to answer that question is my frame of mind as their mother. (The same for fathers too.) If I strive to see every day as an opportunity to prepare them for the day they will be making their own decisions, determining their own road, it just might make a difference.
I hope. I pray.
That they will thrill to the idea of serving God and helping others, find joy in living a life of purpose, and feel the sheer delight of delighting in God and finding that their heart’s deepest desires are returned to them … Or transformed into something greater, deeper, more glorious.
That they will come to know, in the midst of joy or sorrow, a Presence that remains with them through it all. And that during every step they take, they will feel the support and love of their father and me.
I hope. I pray.
Sometimes They Surprise Me
I woke up at 8:30 this morning, and I was still tired. My husband only came home after 2 in the morning, filling in for some coworkers who didn’t show up, and although I didn’t wait up for him, my sleep was restless until he got home, and even afterward when our four-year-old clambered into bed with us in the middle of the night.
I stumbled into the kitchen to make chai and, once it was ready, I sat down in the living room to read for a few minutes while I drank my chai, hoping it would kick in soon and I would feel a little more awake.
My son asked me if he could use the computer, to work on his new hobby (more on that hobby coming soon in another post). My daughter sat a few feet away from him, at her keyboard and began to practice. I felt like pinching myself to see if I really had woken up. Usually, getting my daughter to practice her piano lessons faithfully is not the easiest task in the world. And here, my son is fully involved in his artwork, and my daughter in her music. Not bad for a summer morning, I thought to myself. It’s barely nine am.
Sometimes, when we least expect it, our kids surprise us. With signs that they are growing up, taking initiative, or assuming responsibilities. Even if moments like these are rare, if on most summer mornings I have to coax them awake and they do well if they’re in a vertical position sometime before 10, these times are worth it. Children are often capable of more than we give them credit for, more than we often expect of them. But as we consistently love them, expect more of them, and encourage them a thousand times every day, sometimes they’ll surprise us.
When did one of your kids last surprise you? What did they do? We’d love to hear about it in the comments below!
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