From Lecturing to Loving

When our daughter Jamie was younger, she awoke nearly every morning tired and cranky. It was an everyday occurrence to find her staggering out of her bedroom whining about being tired and not wanting to go to school. My typical response was to nudge her along, reminding her that if she didn’t hurry she would be late for school. This usually caused her to cry even more loudly, increasing my frustrations over this morning ritual.

Before long, the entire family became part of the early-morning pattern. If I wasn’t getting after her to hurry things along, one of our other children would walk by her as she was crying on the floor outside her room and call her a crybaby. Naturally this only made matters worse. Few mornings passed without this frustrating cycle repeating itself over and over in our home.

Then one day the pattern changed. It began early one morning when I was in my office studying the scriptures and preparing for the day. The brilliant autumn sun was just rising on a stunningly beautiful day. I felt at peace, calm, and relaxed. Then I heard Jamie open her bedroom door and start to cry as she had so many times before. She was sitting on the floor outside her bedroom. We all knew the drill. But this time I paused and responded differently. I sat down beside her on the floor, took her in my arms and held her, rocking back and forth humming softly. It was chilly sitting on the floor, and she snuggled close to get warm. I kissed her forehead, stroked her soft brown hair, and whispered how much I loved her. In mere moments, her crying stopped and she settled comfortably in my arms.

“Are you cold, honey?” I asked. She nodded her head, and I picked her up and carried her into my bedroom and tucked her in where I had slept the night before. Then a remarkable thing took place. She looked up at me and said, “Daddy, I’ll stay here for a minute and get warm, then I’ll get up and get ready for school.” We had yearned to hear these simple words for months, and now they came so easily.

As I walked downstairs, I paused to reflect on what had just happened, seemingly so simple but so important. The differences between this morning and so many others before were striking. In those moments of quiet reflection, I came to understand that this time the difference had been me and my reaction to my daughter.

A few minutes later Jamie bounded down the stairs smiling, ate her breakfast, and dashed out of the house for the bus—with no tears, no angry words, and no negative emotion. Later I gathered the rest of the family together and shared with them my unique experience. We talked about how we treat one another and how the way we treat one another greatly affects how we feel about being a part of the family. We also talked about each one’s responsibility to behave in ways the Lord would have us behave toward one another, especially family members.

I thought specifically about the counsel the Lord has given to all of us but particularly to those who hold the priesthood: “No power or influence can or ought to be maintained by virtue of the priesthood, only by persuasion, by long-suffering, by gentleness and meekness, and by love unfeigned” (D&C 121:41). That scripture was verified in our home when a negative pattern of pain was transformed into the beginning of a positive pattern of gentleness, meekness, and love.