words to live by

A mothers' group I'm a part of has gone through a rough patch over the past few days. Several members who had been rubbed the wrong way by one member in the past lashed out at her publicly. They were surprised when they didn't receive much support. It seemed they couldn't believe that other community members weren't offended by this woman's style, too, and they accused us of having encouraged this woman in poor behavior by having been kind to her in the past. So then the bystanders grew angry at the handful who were lashing out, for holding a cruel public referendum on one member and for creating much bad feeling in the community.

The whole thing was disagreeable and made me want to take some time away from the group. But in stewing about it over the course of the weekend, I found a positive side emerging for me. It made me think harder about some of the principles I try to live by and that I hope to teach to Edith.

I once asked friends, if they could wish for their child any three characteristics, what would those be? For some reason, three came quickly to me. I wanted my then-hypothetical child to be curious and self-reliant. I imagined a child playing in meadows and woods, near a stream. She would be examining frogs and bugs, sighting birds, collecting leaves. She would build miniature villages out of sticks and inhabit them with imaginary residents. I'm not sure why this was the fantasy of a mother who spent much more of her own childhood curled up with a book than romping through the woods, but the image was vivid.

But the most important characteristic was, and is, very different. Above all, I hope that my child will be compassionate. The ability to imagine the world from someone else's vantage point, and to feel life from within their skin, holds the only hope for our healing the many brokennesses in this world. I think my child will contribute most to the communities she becomes a part of not with brilliant inventions or strong leadership or warm gatherings--though those all are valuable--but by trying to find common ground with those who baffle her and sympathy for those who anger her.

I don't know just how to teach her this. I can't do it like Rabbi Saunders in Chaim Potok's The Chosen, who deliberately taught his son a capacity for suffering by not talking to him throughout his adolescence.

The only thing I think I know is that love begets more love, and understanding goes farther than you can predict in making others comfortable enough to extend understanding to others. That's why I disagree with members of my mothers' group that a person who is difficult (but not unkind) needs to be publicly shamed for being difficult. It's why I hope to find the best in such a person and respond to that, while simply ignoring the less pleasant or worthy behaviors. I don't always do very well at this. Certain character traits irritate me more than others--we all have our particular triggers. But I think it's critical, and it's a capacity I pray Edith may have.

Three different sayings along these lines came to me this weekend in one way or another.

First, I recalled what was always my favorite quote among the wise and witty sayings that covered the walls of my eleventh-grade English teacher's classroom. I don't remember the author, but the quote was

Be kind. Almost everyone you meet is fighting a battle.

The second was a line in a hymn that I was singing to Edith at bedtime last night:

Teach us to love [others] as we find them, or as they may become.

And the third was a Swedish proverb our minister shared in his sermon this morning:

In every man there is a king. In every woman there is a queen. Speak to their majesties, and their majesties will come out.

This is what I hope for Edith. She doesn't even have to play with the frogs if she doesn't want to.