Complex, yet not unanswerable

This post is part of the General Conference Odyssey. This week covers the Priesthood Session of the April 1983 Conference.

I used to notice a kind of shell-shocked look when I would talk to parents with teenage children—even when I was talking to them about what nice kids they had. "Abby is such a great young woman," I would say. "I love having her in my class." And the parents would give me that hollow-eyed look and say, "Oh. Really?" [Long pause. Thin smile.] "Well…I'm glad."

I understand it now. Don't get me wrong; I love my teenagers, but there's just so much uncertainty about what, if anything, is getting through to them. I am profoundly conscious of how much of their reality comes from their own worldview and choices, and not what I think they should think. I know they're good people. I hope they will grow into even better people. But I sometimes fear that I'm just as likely to detract from that end as to contribute to it.

Furthermore, the difficulties facing families seem so insurmountable sometimes, I wonder how any family ever survives! Because people have such varied challenges, and because I've become more sensitive to the uncertainties of parenthood, I sometimes feel like there's no point in even formulating advice. Who can say what will help?

Well…luckily, the prophets can say. And the gospel gives us hope that there are solutions—not always easy, not always immediate—but still, solutions and comfort for the problems our families face. I love how Elder James E. Faust puts it:

Why is one family strong, yet another family weak? The problems are infinitely complex. Yet, there are answers. 

He continues:

Abundant evidence shows that the presence of a firm, loving father in the home is far more likely to produce responsible, law-abiding children than if the father is not there, or if he does not function as a father at home. In either case it throws a double burden on the mother… 

The presence of the father in the home, coupled with one or both of the parents being active in Church, and with discipline in the home, seems to produce stable, strong families.… 

Surely, the most important ingredient in producing family happiness for members of this Church is a deep religious commitment under wise, mature parental supervision. Devotion to God in the home seems to forge the spiritual moorings and stability that can help the family cope. Some may say this is an over-simplification of a very complex problem, yet I believe the answers lie within the framework of the restored gospel of Christ.

Elder Holland (although, I don't think he was Elder Holland at this point? I'm not sure what he was, but his deacon-aged son Matt spoke right after him in this conference session, which was really cute and must have been amazingly terrifying for the poor boy!) told a story you've probably heard before about a dream he had after being overly harsh with his young son:

My relief was not so soon coming; but finally I fell asleep and began to dream, which I seldom do. I dreamed Matt and I were packing two cars for a move. For some reason his mother and baby sister were not present. As we finished I turned to him and said, “Okay, Matt, you drive one car and I’ll drive the other.”

This five-year-old very obediently crawled up on the seat and tried to grasp the massive steering wheel. I walked over to the other car and started the motor. As I began to pull away, I looked to see how my son was doing. He was trying—oh, how he was trying. He tried to reach the pedals, but he couldn’t. He was also turning knobs and pushing buttons, trying to start the motor. He could scarcely be seen over the dashboard, but there staring out at me again were those same immense, tear-filled, beautiful brown eyes. As I pulled away, he cried out, “Daddy, don’t leave me. I don’t know how to do it. I am too little.” And I drove away.

A short time later, driving down that desert road in my dream, I suddenly realized in one stark, horrifying moment what I had done. I slammed my car to a stop, threw open the door, and started to run as fast as I could. I left car, keys, belongings, and all—and I ran. The pavement was so hot it burned my feet, and tears blinded my straining effort to see this child somewhere on the horizon. I kept running, praying, pleading to be forgiven and to find my boy safe and secure.

As I rounded a curve nearly ready to drop from physical and emotional exhaustion, I saw the unfamiliar car I had left Matt to drive. It was pulled carefully off to the side of the road, and he was laughing and playing nearby. An older man was with him, playing and responding to his games. Matt saw me and cried out something like, “Hi, Dad. We’re having fun.” Obviously he had already forgiven and forgotten my terrible transgression against him.

But I dreaded the older man’s gaze, which followed my every move. I tried to say “Thank you,” but his eyes were filled with sorrow and disappointment. I muttered an awkward apology and the stranger said simply, “You should not have left him alone to do this difficult thing. It would not have been asked of you.”

With that, the dream ended, and I shot upright in bed. My pillow was now stained, whether with perspiration or tears I do not know. I threw off the covers and ran to the little metal camp cot that was my son’s bed. There on my knees and through my tears I cradled him in my arms and spoke to him while he slept. I told him that every dad makes mistakes but that they don’t mean to. I told him it wasn’t his fault I had had a bad day. I told him that when boys are five or fifteen, dads sometimes forget and think they are fifty. I told him that I wanted him to be a small boy for a long, long time, because all too soon he would grow up and be a man and wouldn’t be playing on the floor with his toys when I came home. I told him that I loved him and his mother and his sister more than anything in the world and that whatever challenges we had in life we would face them together. I told him that never again would I withhold my affection or my forgiveness from him, and never, I prayed, would he withhold them from me. I told him I was honored to be his father and that I would try with all my heart to be worthy of such a great responsibility.

I love that story at the same time I'm really humbled by it. I feel like I've been more harsh to my children without such remorse, but this makes me want to be so much better! And then I really loved this Joseph F. Smith quote he ended with:

Well, I have not proven to be the perfect father I vowed to be that night and a thousand nights before and since. But I still want to be, and I believe this wise counsel from President Joseph F. Smith:

“Brethren, … If you will keep your [children] close to your heart, within the clasp of your arms; if you will make them … feel that you love them … and keep them near to you, they will not go very far from you, and they will not commit any very great sin. But it is when you turn them out of the home, turn them out of your affection … that [is what] drives them from you. …

“Fathers, if you wish your children to be taught in the principles of the gospel, if you wish them to love the truth and understand it, if you wish them to be obedient to and united with you, love them! and prove … that you do love them by your every word and act to[ward] them.” (Gospel Doctrine, 5th ed., Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1966, pp. 282, 316.)

Brethren, we all know fatherhood is not an easy assignment, but it ranks among the most imperative ever given, in time or eternity. We must not pull away from our children. We must keep trying, keep reaching, keep praying, keep listening. We must keep them “within the clasp of our arms.” 

I still don't know how to keep children "clasped" who don't want to be "clasped"! But I am hopeful that I will learn as I go, and I'm glad we have apostles to give parenting advice where I daren't. It is very reassuring to remember that Heavenly Father, our perfect Parent, will help us figure out what to do!


Other posts in this series:

Home: the happiest place on earth—by Jan Tolman