The first argument my husband and I had in our first year of marriage was over the shape of an oak leaf. Yes, it was a stupid thing to argue over, but I knew I was right and he was wrong. I knew that an oak leaf was deeply lobed with rounded knobs that turned beautiful shades of red in autumn.
My husband was equally certain that he was right and I was wrong. His oak leaf was an evergreen small prickly oval.
It was a stupid thing to argue over, but it taught us a huge lesson. It turns out we were both right. I was thinking of the oaks of my childhood, the majestic red or white oaks of the East, or the scrub oaks of the Uinta Mountains. He was thinking of the oaks of his childhood, California live oaks or black oaks. They all have acorns, but different leaves. Just because we know something is absolutely right, doesn’t mean that someone else who knows something different is absolutely wrong.
This understanding has been a blessing in our marriage. But only recently have I learned that this lesson could apply to my mothering also. I have a tendency to “know” I am right, or my way is the best way. After all, I’m the mother. I tell my children how to do things correctly, because I know how to do it correctly. Unfortunately, that stifles the compliant child, and irritates the rebellious child.
When I am all-knowing, or self-righteous, my children have no room to grow and learn and explore ideas. Instead of sharing their thoughts and concerns with me, they clam up. Why explore positions when I would just tell them why they were wrong and what they should do right? Why tell me what they’ve done when I only tell them how they should have done it better? Could it possibly be that we are both right? At least, I should consider their viewpoint and look at life from their side. When problems occur, maybe I could ask for their suggestions, instead of just telling them what they should do. Maybe if I listened more, they would talk more. Maybe if I valued their viewpoints, they would think more deeply about decisions.
Or maybe not. I’m not absolutely sure. What do you think?