Parenting: Everything to Do with the Heart BY PATRICIA T. HOLLAND

This is another wonderful talk by Praticia Holland!!  I love how she shares quite personal experiences and recalls how difficult things could be BUT that she was able to make righteous parenting decisions by coming to The Lord in humble prayer....

"When a four-year-old was asked recently why her baby brother was crying, she looked at the baby, thought for a moment and then she said, “Well, if you had no hair, no teeth, and your legs were wobbly, you would cry too.”

We all come into the world crying—and a little bit wobbly. For parents to take a newborn infant, who is then only a bundle of potentialities, and love and guide and develop that child until a fully functional human being emerges is the grandest miracle of science, and the greatest of all arts.

When the Lord created parents, he created something breathtakingly close to what he is. We who have borne children innately know that this is the highest of callings, the holiest of assignments—and that is why the slightest failure can cause us crippling despair.

Even with our best intentions and our most heartfelt efforts, some of us find our children not turning out the way we’d like. They are sometimes very difficult to communicate with. They might be struggling in school or emotionally distressed or openly rebellious or painfully shy. There are lots of reasons why they may still be wobbling a bit.

And it seems that even if our children are not having problems, a nagging uneasiness keeps us wondering how we can keep them off such painful paths. At odd moments we find ourselves thinking, “Am I doing a good job? Are they going to make it? Should I spank them or should I reason with them? Should I control them or should I just ignore them? Reality has a way of making the best of us feel shaky as a parent.

I just reread this recently from my journal, written when I was a young and a very anxious mother:

“I continually pray that I will never do anything to injure my children emotionally. If I ever do cause them to hurt in any way, I pray they will know I did it unwittingly. I cry often inside for things I may have said and done thoughtlessly, and I pray not to repeat these transgressions. I pray that I haven’t done anything to damage my dream of what I want these children to become. I hunger for help and a guide—particularly when I feel that I have failed them.”

Well, rereading that after all these years makes me feel my children are turning out surprisingly well for having had such a basket case for a mother. And I share that with you because what I have wanted most of all to convey to you is that I am one of you—a parent, carrying a bundle of guilt for past mistakes, shaky confidence for the present, and fear of future failing. Above all, I have wanted every parent within the sound of my voice to have hope.

Inasmuch as almost none of us is a professional in child development, you can imagine why I was so encouraged to hear this from one who is. A faculty member at Brigham Young University said to me one day: “Pat, parenting has almost nothing to do with training. It has everything to do with your heart.” When I asked him to explain further he said:

“Often parents feel the reason they do not communicate with their children is that they are not skillful enough. Communication is not nearly as much a matter of skill as it is of attitude. When our attitude is one of broken-heartedness and humility, of love and interest in our children’s welfare, then that cultivates communication. Our children recognize that effort on our part. On the other hand, when we are impatient, hostile, or resentful, it doesn’t matter what words we choose or how we try to camouflage our feelings. That attitude will be felt by their discerning hearts.”

Jacob in the Book of Mormon said we must all come down in the depths of humility and consider ourselves fools before God if we would have him open the gate of heaven to us. (2 Ne. 9:42.)

That humility, including our ability to admit our mistakes, seems to be fundamental both for receiving divine help and for earning our children’s respect.

My daughter is a musically talented young woman. For many years I felt that this talent would not be developed unless I loomed over her at the piano and insistently supervised her practice like a Simon Legree. One day, sometime in her early teens, I realized that my attitude, probably once useful, was now visibly affecting our relationship. Torn between a fear that she would not fully develop a God-given talent and the reality of an increasingly strained relationship over that very issue, I did what I had seen my own mother do when faced with a serious challenge. I sequestered myself in my secret place and poured out my soul in prayer, seeking the only wisdom that could help me keep that communication open—the kind of wisdom and help that comes from the tongues of angels. Upon arising from my knees, I knew what action I must take.

Because it was just three days before Christmas, I gave to Mary as a personal gift an apron from which I had conspicuously cut the apron strings. There was a tiny pocket on the apron in which I tucked a note. It read: “Dear Mary, I’m sorry for the conflict I have caused by acting like a federal marshall at the piano. I must have looked foolish there—just you and me and my six-shooters. Forgive me. You are becoming a young woman in your own right. I have only worried that you would not feel as fully confident and fulfilled as a woman if you left your talent unfinished. I love you. Mom.”

Later that day she sought me out, and in a quiet corner of our home, she said: “Mother, I know you want what is best for me, and I have known that all my life. But if I’m ever going to play the piano well, I’m the one who has to do the practicing, not you!” Then she threw her arms around me and with tears in her eyes she said, “I’ve been wondering how to teach you that—and somehow you figured it out on your own.” Now, by her own choice, she has gone on to even more disciplined musical development. And I am always nearby to encourage her.

As Mary and I reminisced about this experience a few years later, she confided in me that my willingness to say “I’m sorry, I’ve made a mistake, please forgive me” gave to her a great sense of self-worth, because it said to her that she was worthy enough for a parental apology, that sometimes children can be right. I wonder if personal revelation ever comes without counting ourselves as fools before God? I wonder if reaching and teaching our children requires becoming more childlike ourselves? Shouldn’t we share our deepest fears and pain with them, as well as our highest hopes and joys, instead of simply trying to lecture and dominate and reprove them again and again?

I would like to close with an experience that occurred just this month.

For three days in a row, my son Duffy (who is our eleven-year-old linebacker) leaped from some hidden corner of our home to throw a body block on me, Super Bowl style. The last time he did this, in my effort to avoid the blitz, I fell on the floor and knocked over the lamp and found my fight elbow wedged up somewhere near my eyebrow. I completely lost my patience, and I scolded him dearly for making me his tackling dummy.

His response melted my heart when he said with tears rolling down both cheeks, “But, Mom, you’re the best friend a guy could have. I thought this was as much fun for you as it was for me.” Then he added, “For a long time now I’ve planned what I will say in my first interview as a Heisman Trophy winner. When they ask me how I got to be so great, I’ll tell them, ‘I practiced on my mother!’”

Every child has to practice on his mother, and in a more important way, every mother has to practice on her child. That is God’s way for parent and child to work out their salvation. I mentioned earlier that we all come into the world crying. Considering all the humbling purposes of life, perhaps it is understandable that we will continue to shed a tear or two from time to time. But it helps us to always remember that these are God’s children as well as ours. And above all, it should give us a perfect brightness of hope to know that when we need help we can go through the veil to get it."

Lds endign 1985 

By Persuasion, long suffering, meekness and love

"Persuasion and the Gospel

We recognize that the greatest power on our planet—the power to act in the name of God, or the priesthood—can be “handled only upon the principles of righteousness” (D&C 121:36). This concept is part of what President Dieter F. Uchtdorf recently referred to as the “owner’s manual” of the priesthood (“Your Potential, Your Privilege,” Ensign, May 2011, 59) and what President Heber J. Grant noted to be one of his most oft-quoted verses from the Doctrine and Covenants:

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;

By kindness, and pure knowledge, which shall greatly enlarge the soul without hypocrisy, and without guile. [D&C 121:41–42; see Heber J. Grant, CR, October 1923, 159]

Why are these principles of power and influence included together? What does it say about persuasion, long-suffering, meekness, and love, among other virtues, that makes them essential? And how can they be applied in the myriad of social interactions we have as lifelong learners and disciples?

Early in the Book of Mormon, Lehi had a dream in which his family was commanded to obtain critical records on plates of brass. The only problem was that these records were located somewhere other than where his family was, and it meant doing something that several of his sons weren’t planning on nor were enthused about doing—namely, going back.

Lacking agreement, after “consult[ing] one with another” (1 Nephi 3:10), the sons made the decision on who would face Laban by casting lots. Laman was chosen to head back to Jerusalem. He subsequently failed to get the plates and returned to tell his brothers the bad news.

At this point the brothers were finished, but Nephi wasn’t willing to give up just yet. He gave them a charge:

As the Lord liveth, and as we live, we will not go down unto our father in the wilderness until we have accomplished the thing which the Lord hath commanded us. [1 Nephi 3:15]

His directive was followed by a series of reasons including the need to be faithful, the context of Jerusalem’s wickedness and its imminent destruction, and the key role of the records for linguistic and spiritual continuity. His plea worked.

And it came to pass that after this manner of language did I persuade my brethren, that they might be faithful in keeping the commandments of God. [1 Nephi 3:21]

In this case Nephi persuaded his brothers to do what they should have already understood was the right thing to do—to go and try again to get the plates. But just like us, they needed to be engaged in a conversation, to be reminded and persuaded. It is interesting to note that for some reason the brothers didn’t have a hard time returning once more to Jerusalem to persuade Ishmael and his daughters to join them in the wilderness.

Later on we see how their attitude changed when they lost their commitment to their father’s vision and escalated to violence against their little brother. At that point their choices were mitigated by an angel; but Nephi’s efforts throughout illustrate the process of persuasion and show how dialogue played an important part in Nephi’s relationship to his family and his commitment to truth.

"Persuasion is widely perceived as a skill reserved for selling products and closing deals. It is also commonly seen as just another form of manipulation—devious and to be avoided. Certainly, persuasion can be used in selling and deal-clinching situations, and it can be misused to manipulate people. But exercised constructively and to its full potential, persuasion supersedes sales and is quite the opposite of deception. Effective persuasion becomes a negotiating and learning process through which a persuader leads colleagues to a problem’s shared solution.Persuasion does indeed involve moving people to a position they don’t currently hold, but not by begging or cajoling. Instead, it involves careful preparation, the proper framing of arguments, the presentation of vivid supporting evidence, and the effort to find the correct emotional match with your audience. [Jay A. Conger, “The Necessary Art of Persuasion,” Harvard Business Review, May–June 1998, 86; emphasis added]

Indeed, we know that persuasion is a theme that cuts across many different academic and professional fields. In an even larger sense, persuasion is at the core of the learning process because it changes the way we perceive and understand reality, influencing our attitudes and creating our vision of the world.

Learning involves active engagement in introducing, evaluating, and deciding what ideas have merit and what do not. As a proud graduate of this institution, I feel that one of my formative learning experiences occurred in honors courses where Dean Hal Miller took us into a world of new “conversations” where we could engage in a discussion with some of the greatest minds and on important topics in the world of ideas. We wrestled with Plato, plumbed the Bhagavad Gita, pondered St. Augustine, and wrote alongside Montaigne. Our job as students was to read, question, and determine what was persuasive and what was not. More often than not we missed the point; yet Dr. Miller carefully and patiently explained and answered questions as we stumbled along the path of learning.

As Latter-day Saints, our spiritual foundation influences all aspects of our learning, professions, and family life. Also, experiencing give-and-take and intellectual back-and-forth helps us to increase our understanding and ideally make better decisions, as Hugh Nibley explained in a talk given to Pi Sigma Alpha, the political science honor society:

A discussion with God is not a case of agreeing or disagreeing with Him—who is in a position to do that?—but of understanding Him. What Abraham and Ezra and Enoch asked was, “Why?” Socrates showed that teaching is a dialogue, a discussion. As long as the learner is in the dark he should protest and argue and question, for that is the best way to bring problems into focus, while the teacher patiently and cheerfully explains, delighted that his pupil has enough interest and understanding to raise questions—the more passionate, the more promising. There is a place for discussion and participation in the government of the kingdom. [“Beyond Politics,” Nibley on the Timely and the Timeless, 2nd ed. (Provo: Religious Studies Center, Brigham Young University, 2004), 306; emphasis in original]

But persuasion is merely a tool, and instruments can be used for differing moral purposes (see Moroni 7:17). Thus it seems essential that section 121 of the Doctrine and Covenants places persuasion in close quarters with at least three qualities previously introduced: namely, meekness, long-suffering, and love. These virtues can modify and direct our persuasive efforts, especially as we interact in a world filled with conflict, strife, and disagreement. Let’s consider each virtue separately as we try to understand how they relate to our efforts in persuasion.

Long-Suffering

Defined, long-suffering means “an enduring disposition” or “having endured mental or physical discomfort for a protracted period of time patiently or without complaint.” It might seem a stretch to our modern world, but if we hope to persuade others, we must listen to their concerns and create a space for others to engage in conversation, just as Nephi did with his siblings.

Orson Scott Card, an LDS author and frequent columnist, recently observed the following:

Even within our country, some Latter-day Saints will strongly disagree with others about the actions of our government. Because I have written extensively on political matters, I have received many letters from Saints who disagree with me, asking, “How can you hold that opinion and still be a faithful Latter-day Saint?” (Of course, some of the letters are not so politely worded.)

I get such letters about equally from the left and the right, and about almost every topic I’ve covered. . . .

But the point of freedom is that we should not assume that people who disagree with us are unworthy of full membership in our community, or that their voices should not be heard.

On the contrary, it is essential that all voices be heard in order to reach wise decisions that take into account the needs and judgments of all people. [In the Village, “No Nation Is Devoid of Error,” MormonTimes.com, 2 July 2009; emphasis in original]

Students are especially adept at and enjoy new opportunities in social media, in which an incredibly wide range of viewpoints, ideas, and arguments resides. On occasion I have watched with horror as my Facebook page became the staging ground for battles of opposing views mirroring many newspaper discussion boards, sports websites, blogs, and anywhere else that open (and especially anonymous) interaction is allowed. My students tell me that it’s appropriate to delete or censor my online “friends,” but I secretly hope that their inner angels will help these commenters regain a sense of decorum, if not a measure of kindness.

Henry David Thoreau wrote, “Thaw with his gentle persuasion is more powerful than Thor with his hammer. The one melts, the other but breaks in pieces” (Walden [1854], 17, Spring). And yet it seems that some of my “friends” would rather be Nordic superheroes than forces of nature. That’s because the language and tone of many comments online preclude a conversation. Discussions can become less about respecting or enduring other views and more about making our point heard.

These discussion enders may be insensitive responses, but as part of communities—especially learning communities—they become deal breakers that replace dialogue with an awkward silence at best and “sharpness” at worst, usually without the “increase of love” we are advised to employ afterward (D&C 121:43). More important, they demonstrate a lack of long-suffering in our demeanor because we don’t want to have to listen to something that doesn’t fit our thinking. We recognize that not all ideas are equal or even correct—that is why we need to learn. But being long-suffering increases our chances of gaining understanding, and it keeps us connected to those in the discussion.

Clearly this is a very small part of being long-suffering, as many with greater trials can attest. But this important virtue may give us resolve to find ways to stay connected, to be patient, and to try and better understand others.

Meekness

Meekness is another virtue recommended to us, and, like the others, it is a subject matter unto itself. We know that personal growth occurs best when we submit to God’s will, but as President Ezra Taft Benson taught, “Either we can choose to be humble or we can be compelled to be humble” (“Beware of Pride,” Ensign, May 1989, 6). One way that we can immediately experience our limitations is through cross-cultural interactions on our smaller, more globalized world.

Cultural differences are rarely more apparent than when we experience another place firsthand. Last year our family traveled across Europe, and while contending with different food, language, and environments—mostly in large, urban cities—our eight-year-old son Jack concluded, “In Turkey they don’t seem to understand our personal space or our family bubble.” In fact, he and his younger brother were regularly pinched, patted, observed, and remarked upon, and he wasn’t really prepared for all of that attention. Buses were crowded, unlike the one he’s used to riding. City streets were filled with a myriad of smells, sights, and sounds that were unfamiliar and even frightening at times. Many things seemed so very different to us—from electric plugs to the experience of worshipping with sixty members of the Church in a city of 13 million people.

In these instances we can withdraw, retreat, or even become outright defensive. We can also fail to see what is happening before us. But when we approach these new cultural adventures with meekness and humility, we can begin to understand our limitations in new ways. In a letter to Edward Partridge and the Church, Joseph Smith wrote from Liberty Jail:

We ought always to be aware of those prejudices which sometimes so strangely present themselves, and are so congenial to human nature, against our friends, neighbors, and brethren of the world, who choose to differ from us in opinion and in matters of faith. Our religion is between us and our God. Their religion is between them and their God. [HC 3:303–4]

Elder Neal A. Maxwell, nearly thirty years ago, addressed this topic here at Brigham Young University, noting:

In the ecology of the eternal attributes these cardinal characteristics are inextricably bound up together. Among them, meekness is often the initiator, the facilitator, and the consolidator.

He further explains the link to persuasion this way:

Since God desired to have us become like Himself, He first had to make us free, to learn, to choose, and to experience; hence our humility and teachability are premiere determinants of our progress and our happiness. Agency is essential to perfectibility, and meekness is essential to the wise use of agency—and to our recovery when we have misused our agency. . . .

In contrast, we see in ourselves, brothers and sisters, the unnecessary multiplication of words—not only a lack of clarity, but vanity. Our verbosity is often a cover for insincerity or uncertainty. Meekness, the subtraction of self, reduces the multiplication of words.

Without meekness, the conversational point we insist on making often takes the form of I, that spearlike, vertical pronoun. Meekness, however, is more than self-restraint; it is the presentation of self in a posture of kindness and gentleness. It reflects certitude, strength, serenity; it reflects a healthy self-esteem and a genuine self-control. [“Meekly Drenched in Destiny,” BYU fireside address, 5 September 1982; emphasis in original]

Love

Finally, an über-virtue that guides our persuasion efforts is real love. This may well be the hardest part of a gospel approach, because it is so easy for us to become enamored with our own ideas, accomplishments, and interests. It’s also quite difficult to love at close range when our family, friends, or colleagues don’t appreciate our efforts. And it’s even harder still when we face down our real or perceived enemies.

For over five years I attended a number of United Nations conferences in New York, Nairobi, Geneva, and elsewhere in which I was involved in lengthy negotiations with countries and groups that had opposing views on a number of policy issues. This competition of ideas—common to the sports arena, courtroom, and marketplace, or among the electorate—often led to zero-sum outcomes through long negotiation. Try as we might to break through and find common ground, discussions were difficult, and both sides were regularly frustrated. Some of these differences were structural, but I was struck by the degree to which our opposing sides displayed personal animosity and even open hostility.

We occasionally had hard-won victories at the expense of the other side. The lack of empathy was readily apparent, and in some ways understandable. Since then I have often thought about these experiences and what was to be learned.

Recently, someone who has been involved in these very issues was interviewed. In talking about how to address these types of intractable conflicts, she said that as a result of thinking about them over a long period of time, she recognized the need for and advocated a type of sportsmanship that seems to me to be an essential part of a Christian approach in such areas:

The need to approach others with enthusiasm for difference is absolutely critical to any change. You know . . . I’m the toughest of fighters. And you know I love a good fight. And I love to win. But I think what I have learned is that you have got to approach differences with this notion that there is good in the other. And that if we can’t figure out how to do that and if there isn’t the crack in the middle where there are some people on both sides who absolutely refuse to see the other as evil, this is going to continue. [“Listening Beyond Life and Choice,” radio interview with Frances Kissling, Being, 20 January 2011; Krista Tippett, host; http://being.publicradio.org/programs/2011/listening-beyond/transcript.shtml]

How do we meekly, patiently, and lovingly engage with others, especially when the stakes are the highest? For me this gospel ideal of love warrants our serious consideration. President Dieter F. Uchtdorf observed:

We must realize that all of God’s children wear the same jersey. Our team is the brotherhood of man. This mortal life is our playing field. Our goal is to learn to love God and to extend that same love toward our fellowman. We are here to live according to His law and establish the kingdom of God. We are here to build, uplift, treat fairly, and encourage all of Heavenly Father’s children. [“Pride and the Priesthood,” Ensign, November 2010, 56]

There will always be times when we must take a stand for what is right. But I believe that we can try to do so in a loving and genuine manner, avoiding ad hominem and mean-spirited attacks. I recognize that possessing love unfeigned is extremely challenging, but I have seen examples throughout my life from my parents, wife, colleagues, and students that give me hope.

Changing Minds and Hearts

Recently, the filmmaker Sidney Lumet passed away. He was known for a remarkable film titled 12 Angry Men, which portrays the compelling transformation of wide-ranging attitudes in a short period of time. In the film a young man of low social status has been accused of murdering his father. As the title suggests, twelve jurors are chosen to deliberate his fate, and they bring with them lifetimes of experience, pain, and perspective.

The entire 1957 film version takes place in one room and occurs in real time. Initially it appears to be an open-and-shut trial. But one lone juror—Juror #8, played by Henry Fonda— quietly voices his dissenting opinion. He does so through the first part of the film by listening quietly, thoughtfully assessing each juror’s view, and asking probing questions.

As the film progresses, it becomes clear that he is beginning to persuade other jurors, one by one, but the way in which he does it still surprises me. Through continued engagement with the other men—including the one last holdout juror—and a great deal of silence and discussion, Juror #8 eventually persuades all eleven to the “not guilty” conclusion.

Ultimately, it may be more important how we are persuaded rather than how we persuade. For, while changing our mind is important in learning, the opening of our hearts is critical to our salvation. The scriptures teach that we may know truth and that we may be persuaded “to do good” and to “believe in Christ” through the power of the Spirit (Moroni 7:16; see Ether 4:11–12). Opening our hearts can lead to the greatest blessings.

In the hymn “That Easter Morn,” we sing that Christ overcame “pain,” He overcame “death,” and He can help us overcome “fear” (Hymns, 1985, no. 198). Perhaps it is fear that limits much of our ability to listen, learn, persuade—and be persuaded—by others and by the Holy Spirit of God.

I am grateful for the gospel of Jesus Christ that gives us a restart in our frequent frailties and pray that we may be better able to enjoy the full range of discourse and discussion as Christians in the broader world around us, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen."

http://speeches.byu.edu/?act=viewitem&id=1948