Teaching "Reverence"

The other day, while sitting around with most of my kids and passing the Labor Day holiday away, we got to reminiscing about old times. Savannah wanted some ideas/memories to blog about on her "personal history blog" but couldn't really think of anything.

I suggested old family home evenings, like the time we stacked wood for a widow, or the time, as parents, were at our wits end as to how to teach our children the concept of "reverence," you know, that age old trick of trying to keep your children from screaming out in church because their sibling took their coloring book, or why it isn't appropriate to throw your cheerios four pews ahead of where you're sitting... complete with the bowl.

Honestly, I take issue with most reverence talks. Reverence is a holy feeling inside of you, a respect for God and his children, a kindness and appreciation for your blessings... it is NOT necessarily the "quiet" that we make it out to be. Why don't we just say it the way we mean it?

"You need to be quiet at church."

Instead we make it out to be some sort of great principle of holiness, that as long as we're quiet we can be thinking about whatever we want and be okay. As long as we're quiet, we can be playing Speed Racer or Angry Birds on the latest I-Pad or other electronic gadget and completely not paying attention to anything being said.

It's like the high priests falling asleep in church and getting their Sunday nap. As long as they don't snore too loudly then, culturally, we're okay with it. But, honestly, if you're not going to listen, why go at all. Church will surely be "quiet" if no one is there, right?

But, I digress. This blog isn't about my beefs with church culture, it was about family memories of trying to get that "Quiet" concept across to my children.

Usually, when they were little and I came up against a brick wall in trying to figure out how to be effective in teaching my kids a certain principle, I would turn it around. I'd call them in for a pow wow on my bed and just be honest with them.

Like so: "I'm kind of lost with this, you guys, and don't really know how to teach you. What would you do if YOU were the parent and I was the child?"

It usually worked like a charm. They would tell me exactly what they would do and then I would temper it to my style of parenting, by removing all the spanks and yelling and other harsh punishments, doing what was left.

I wish I could take full credit for the idea, but it actually came from my mom... who probably got it from the school psychologist. One pleasant sunny day, while we were out on the front lawn, she said to my little three year old self:

"Becca, let's play a game where you are the mother and I am the child. Would you like that?"

"Oh yes!" I agreed, thinking "Free donuts for the entire neighborhood!"

She asked me if she could do some little thing, I don't remember what it was, and I sharply said: "NO! You may not do that!" That request was followed by several more, after which I responded in like, copying what I perceived was a parent's job to do.

Finally, my mother (who by now was in SHOCK at my perception of her parenting) said: "Is that the way you want me to treat you when we switch back?"

My absolute and tyrannical reign of dictatorial authoritarianism, melted in that instant. I had no idea I was supposed to be setting a pattern. I thought I was just copying what I knew from experience.

Suddenly, the light went on and I consented for her to do anything her little mother heart desired.

Fast Forward thirty years. I waited long and hard for it, but I finally had a family of my own! When my children were really little and would ask me for something, I started out by letting that big green mommy out and telling them no! No! NO! You may not have donut holes for breakfast. You must eat something healthy first. - No, we can't go for a walk right now. It's raining! (Note: It was ALWAYS raining in Oregon). No, you can't go swimming, your room isn't clean.

Then one day, I realized: Hey, I'M the MOM and I can parent whatever way I want... within reason. Why NOT say YES? Sort of like the movie "Yes Man!" I became the "Yes Mom!"

Can I have pop tarts for breakfast? Sure! Enjoy them though!
Can we go outside to play? Sure! But you'll need to play in a warm bath when you get back inside.
Can we invite some friends over? Sure! Let's call it a "Tuesday Party" and have cake and balloons and games while we're at it.

Yep, I thought I was pretty cool being the "Yes Mom."

However, all that leniency didn't teach my children that it wasn't okay to bean Old man Dalton in the back of the head with their hot wheels in church... even if he WAS listening to the world series with a little, hidden earphone during sacrament meeting, letting out an occasional squelched cheer at the most inappropriate times.

Finally, at my wits end, I resorted back to my mother's parenting forum.

"Tonight, for Family Home Evening, you kids are going to be the parents while daddy and I are going to be the kids. Your job is to teach us to be reverent for church. Does that sound like a good idea?"

"Oh, yes! Yes! YES!" they chimed, consumately thrilled with the prospects of total and utter tyranny.

Things started out alright. One of them, I think it was Clarke, began telling us how we need to be reverent in church. It wasn't hard. He'd heard it a million times, right?

We sat there, like obedient little children, Kirk and I, and listened to what Clarke had to say... for about 3.7 seconds. Then Kirk flung a couch pillow at my face.

Bam! Square hit!

"You punk!" I scream and flung it right back at him. Of course, by then he had gathered several other items and the war began, throwing items across the room at each other, laughing and pretending to cry and be angry.

We pulled out the stops and recreated every single thing we could remember our children ever doing in church... and elsewhere...

At first they just sort of looked at us and blinked. Astounded that WE, the parents, would be SO AWFUL during a lesson on reverence. Then, soon, they wanted in on the action, but I broke character long enough to remind them that THEY were the parents and they needed to teach us to be reverent.

Bummer!

Clarke then told Kirk that he was going to put him into a time out if he didn't "get reverent."

Kirk then began screaming and flailing in an all out tantrum: "I don't want a time out! You can't make me!" Blah, blah, blah, etc....

Clarke patiently got up, took Kirk by the hand and, after his dad flung another pillow at my face, he put him in the wicker rocking chair and told him to stay there until he could be reverent.

"La, la, la! I'm not listening!" He called out.

I decided to be "the good child" and only stuck my tongue out at him, secretly taunting him as much as I could without being caught. Then "BAM" I get hit in the face with another pillow.

Kirk, by now, was rocking his time out... literally. Back and forth he went, a little at first and then higher and higher and further back until he was almost rocked the chair completely over backwards!

I watched him in awe! He was COMPLETELY out of control and not breaking character for a second. The children were wide eyed as well!

Finally Clarke went to him and announced that he was going to have to give him a spanking for not being reverent. He took his dad by the hand, raised his arm to deliver a spank and before he could even begin the swing, Kirk burst out screaming at the top of his lungs.

"No! No! You're hurting me too bad! Stop beating me!"

Clarke, in his best grown up voice, informed him: "I haven't touched you yet!"

Kirk: "Oh. Okay."

Clarke - spank.

Kirk, falls to the floor, screaming and writhing as though he is in intense and desperate pain. Then he throws another pillow at me and goes back to the rocking chair where he begins the entire charade anew.

I don't remember all of the things that happened that night, it was such a long time ago, but I remember thinking what a good actor my husband could be and how I thought I was going to have a stroke from laughing so hard that I absolutely couldn't breathe.

The kids laughed really hard too.

But then something magical happened... they started being quiet in church.

They also seemed to develop a greater respect for the relationship between a parent and child.

In short, we were all better friends, as a family, by the end of it.

And I guess that's how we taught our children to be "reverent" in church.... or whatever you want to call it.