THE CHRISTIAN MOTHER
Read Chapter One Here: The Mothers Responsibility
Chapter 2: Part Five
Upon the subject of obedience there are a few other suggestions of importance to be made.
1. First then, there is a very great diversity in the natural dispositions of children. Some are very tender in their feelings, and easily governed by affection. Others are naturally independent and self-willed. Sometimes a child gets its passions excited and its will determined, and it cannot be subdued but by a very great effort.
Almost every faithful mother is acquainted with such contests, and she knows that they often form a crisis in the character of the child. If the child then obtains the victory, it is almost impossible for the mother afterward to regain her authority. The child feels that he is the victor, and his mother the vanquished; and it is with very great difficulty that he will be compelled to renounce his independence.
If, on the other hand, the mother conquers, and the child is subdued, he feels that the question is settled, and he has but little disposition to resume hostilities with one who has proved herself superior.
I have known many such contests, severe and protracted, which were exceedingly painful to a parent's feelings. But, when once entered upon, they must be continued till the child is subdued. It is not safe, on any account, for the parent to give up and retire vanquished.
The following instance of such a contest occurred a few years since.
A gentleman, sitting by his fireside one evening, with his family around him, took the spelling-book and called upon one of his little sons to come and read. John was about four years old. He knew all the letters of the alphabet perfectly, but happened at that moment to be in rather a sullen mood, and was not at all disposed to gratify his father. Very reluctantly he came as he was bid, but when his father pointed to the first letter of the alphabet, and said, "What letter is that, John?" he could get no answer. John looked upon the book, sulky and silent.
"My son," said the father, in a serious and decided tone. "What letter is that?"
John refused to answer. The contest was now fairly commenced. John was willful, and determined that he would not read. His father knew that it would be ruinous to his son to allow him to conquer. He felt that he must, at all hazards, subdue him. He took him into another room, and punished him. He then returned, and again showed John the letter. But John still refused to name it. The father again retired with his son, and punished him more severely. But it was unavailing; the stubborn child still refused to name the letter. Again the father inflicted punishment as severely as he dared to do it, and still the child, with his whole frame in agitation, refused to yield. The father was suffering from the most intense concern. He regretted exceedingly that he had been drawn into the contest. He had already punished his child with a severity which he feared to exceed. And yet the willful sufferer stood before him, sobbing and trembling, but apparently as unyielding as a rock.
I have often heard that parent mention the acuteness of his feelings at that moment. His heart was bleeding at the pain which he had been compelled to inflict upon his son. He knew that the question was now to be settled—who should be master! And after his son had withstood so long and so much, he greatly feared the result. The mother sat by, suffering, of course, most acutely, but perfectly satisfied that it was their duty to subdue the child, and that in such a trying hour a mother's feelings must not interfere. With a heavy heart the father again took the hand of his son to lead him out of the room for farther punishment. But, to his inconceivable joy, the child shrunk from enduring any more suffering, and cried, "Father, I'll say the letter." The father, with feelings not easily conceived, took the book and pointed to the letter.
"A," said John, distinctly and fully.
"And what is that?" said the father, pointing to the next letter.
"B," said John.
"And what is that?"
"C," he continued.
"And what is that?" pointing again to the first letter.
"A," said the now humbled child.
"Now carry the book to your mother, and tell her what the letter is."
"What letter is that, my son?" said the mother.
"A," said John.
He was evidently perfectly subdued. The rest of the children were sitting by, and they saw the contest, and they saw where was the victory. And John learnt a lesson which he never forgot—that his father had an arm too strong for him. He learned never again to wage such an unequal warfare. He learnt that it was the safest and happiest course for him to obey!
But perhaps some one says it was cruel to punish the child so severely. Cruel! It was mercy and love. It would indeed have been cruel had the father, in that hour, been unfaithful, and shrunk from his painful duty. The passions he was then, with so much self-sacrifice, striving to subdue, if left unchecked, would, in all probability, have been a curse to their possessor, and have made him a curse to his friends.
It is by no means improbable that upon the decisions of that hour depended the character and happiness of that child for life—and even for eternity. It is far from improbable that, had he then conquered, all future efforts to subdue him would have been in vain, and that he would have broken away from all restraint, and have been miserable in life, and lost in death! Cruelty! May the Lord preserve children from the indulgence of those who so regard such self-denying kindness.
It is always best, if possible, to avoid such collisions. Many children are taught implicit obedience, without ever entering into such a contest with their parents. And it is certainly preferable to govern a child by the mild procedure of ordinary discipline, rather than enter into such a formidable conflict, where great severity is often required. Wisdom, therefore, teaches us to guard against giving a child an opportunity of summoning all its energies to disobey.
There are peculiar occasions, and peculiar moods of mind, which generally elicit this strength of rebellious feeling. A little foresight will often enable us, without surrender of authority, to calm the rising feeling, instead of exciting it to its utmost strength.
We may sometimes, by judicious management, check the rebellion in its first appearance—before it has gained sufficient strength to call all our power into exercise to put it down!
Continue to Chapter 2: Part Six
No comments:
Post a Comment