Life Lessons and Mashmallows

How is everyone doing this fine day? I hope you all had a wonderful weekend {full of Christmas shopping, perhaps? I can't believe how many people are at the stores these days. . . where do they all COME from?!?}

. . . . .

The older Hannah gets, the more I worry. Well, let me rephrase that. The older Hannah gets, the more aware I become of my inadequacies as a parent and teacher. {For the record-- I'll be using a lot of the phrase "I" in here in reference to teaching. Just know that I plan on Chuck being an irreplaceable teacher in Hannah's life, as well. It's just easier for me to write in the first-person}

She's such a smart girl and very, very, very observant. That in and of itself worries me profusely because I think, "What is she picking up from me already? Am I going to try and teach her something and she'll pull the 'Well, you don't do it so why should I' card?" For example, I find myself on my laptop every so often checking e-mail, asking Google a question, browsing Pinterest, you know. . . that sort of thing. However, I'm a firm believer that too much 'screen time' is undesirable. I grew up when laptops didn't exist, and a cell phone in every hand was unimaginable {wow, that makes me feel old!}. We entertained ourselves with a little thing called 'outside' and 'imagination' . . and maybe the occasional squirt gun or hoola hoop.

I can still remember the old cherry tree in the front yard of my house growing up-- I had a whole house mapped out in the branches. Such-and-such branch was my couch; a couple branches higher was my bed. . . Will Hannah get the opportunity to play outside whenever she wants? Will she be able to ride her bike around the neighborhood and make friends?

I sure hope so.

But I digress. I'm getting off topic, here. {Strange, I know. I NEVER do that!}

Sometimes, when I can't sleep, I lay awake and stare at the ceiling and let my mind wander. How will I ever begin to teach Hannah all the things I want and need her to know? How will Chuck and I teach her how to be a responsible citizen; a faithful church-goer; a charitable, humble, soft-spoken, confident woman while living among the ever-growing plague of immorality and horrific acts of violence?

It occurred to me one night that I already knew the answer. It's something I've spoken of often on this very blog.

It's the small and simple things that really matter.

I'll teach her by example. There is no way under the stars that I can adequately explain to my daughter how to exercise patience if I don't show it myself. It would be like trying to explain what a rose smells like to someone with no sense of smell.

If I want her to be a great reader, I ought to read to her and let her see me reading.

If I want to teach her never to give up on her dreams, I ought not to give up on my own.

If I want her to treat those around her with compassion and respect, I ought to do the same. . . regardless of circumstance or supposed inconvenience.

I'll teach her one day at a time. I can't hope to teach her everything all at once. . . even though I may wish I could! But each day, I can strive to be an uplifting force for good in the lives of all of my loved ones, but especially Miss Mae. I won't be perfect, but that's why I'll teach her about forgiveness. I also happen to believe that consistency is key.

Heaven help me be more consistent. :) I struggle!

I'll let her make mistakes. This is bound to be the hardest thing I'll ever have to do; short of letting her 'grow up'.  Six years down the road, if she saves up her pennies for months on end and decides to blow them all on an impulse buy at the grocery store, I can't disregard her agency and force her to do my will. Well, I could. You're right. But I aim not to.

Obviously, some mistakes I can't let her make without causing irreparable harm. I'm not going to let her play chicken with a mini van or take a tumble off of the high dive at the swimming pool. Hopefully that goes without saying! hahaha!

I'll focus on the things that truly matter. This one is tricky because who's to say what's really important? To some people on this strange little orb we call Earth, they might deem the knowledge of the entire Harry Potter cast to be of infinite worth. To others, maybe it's memorizing the works of great past poets that takes home the cake. What is it that really matters? Is it living your religion?

I happen to believe so, yes. I believe that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints is the restored church of Jesus Christ. I happen to know from experience that living the principles taught in the Church brings forth an abundance of happiness, whereas trying to pave my own path has only resulted in anguish and a feeling of complete discontentment.  

Teaching Hannah that she is, first and foremost, a daughter of God, and then to make and keep sacred covenants with her loving Heavenly Father is of infinite importance to my husband and me. I'd love her to learn to play a sport of her choosing, and an instrument, too. I'd love for her to excel in her schoolwork and to have a boat-load of supportive friends. I want her to watch old classic movies with me; and to learn how to fix cars with her dad. I want to teach her how to bake and cook and clean. I want so very many things for her, but none of them hold a candle to wanting her to find true, everlasting peace, comfort, and understanding through the ordinances of the gospel.

But-- like all good things-- they can't be rushed, and they don't always come to fruition despite our best efforts. I'm an imperfect teacher, and Hannah is an imperfect pupil. I will make mistakes, and so will she.

. . . . .

Now. . . if you've ever been over to our house for a s'mores roasting party, you know that Chuck is the master of marshmallow roasting. You think I'm exaggerating, but I'm not. The man can make a mean s'more. His secret? Taking his sweet time and letting the marshmallow get warm inside first. Then he slowly gets it closer to the flame until it's the perfect blend of a soft, gooey middle and a crisp, golden brown outer crust.

I am NOT the master of marshmallow roasting, however. For starters, if I don't end up losing the darn thing off the end of the pole, I usually lose my patience and catch it on fire.


{photo source}


Suffice it to say that when I want a marshmallow that is edible, I go straight to my husband for help.

. . . . .

Just like roasting the ultimate marshmallow, teaching a child requires a steady hand and a patient outlook. It can't be rushed, or the results will be less than desirable. May we all focus on the desired outcome and set our course accordingly; applying liberal amounts of forgiveness and laughter along the way.