Editor’s note: This week’s post was originally published as a Marriage Moat. Lori writes these messages and sends them as weekday emails as well as posting them on social media. Throughout the year we’ll be sharing a few of our favorites.

As words go, it has a bad reputation. Being presumptuous is lumped with self righteousness, and feeling entitled. 

But what if what you are presuming is goodness? 

A mother was describing a parenting theory in which you believe that your child is doing the best they can, and that their behavior is an effort to solve a problem. Perhaps they are anxious, or overly tired, or afraid of disappointing you. Then in the process they disappoint you. 

She described how she tries not to compound her son’s anger with her own strong reaction, but instead backs off, and later tries to untangle the triggers. It may look as if she is caving to his stubbornness, but perhaps she is stepping aside while it whooshes past. She avoids the tempting tendency to tack on judgment like a dragon’s tail. 

My sense is that children, even those with parents who struggle with addiction, often give their mothers the benefit of the doubt. I recall a scene from a movie with one of those emissaries of innocence- Shirley Temple, or Anne of Green Gables- when asked about the person tasked with caring for her. 

“She meant to be kind to me. She wasn’t always but she meant to.”

Why do I find it hard to be as presumptuous? I’m referring to the respectable version. Instead of leaping off the dock of sensibility, plunging into the cold waters of blame, I could sit calmly. What if I were to consider the possibility, likelihood even, that the person I love is trying?

“Those who are guided by kindness, on the other hand, hardly even notice evil in another but pay attention instead to everything good and true in the person. When they do find anything bad or false, they put a good interpretation on it. This is a characteristic of all angels — one they acquire from the Lord, who bends everything bad toward good.” Heavenly Secrets 1079, Emanuel Swedenborg

Love,
Lori

I’ve been thinking a lot about parenthood: how much of it is about letting go, and how the early years so ill prepare you for this reality. Ultimately we raise children so that they can walk off into the world, equipped to meet whatever challenges they face. We don’t raise them to keep them in our arms, but I imagine a part of us takes a lifetime to accept how much they are apart from us. Babies are given to us, but were never really ours. 

It’s a bittersweet reality. On the one hand it’s so clear that this was the Lord’s design, and that it is beautiful and complete and the only way to true eternal life for any of us. And it’s also a bit of a heart wrench to accept that the child who was once a babe in my arms is now supposed to be walking further and further away from needing me, into independence and free choice. 

It can’t but make me think of the Lord and His relationship with us all. As the ultimate parent figure, this process of nurturing and letting go encompasses so much of His relationship with all of us. And it gives me a real pang for how that would feel: needing to let us walk away, sometimes very far away, so that we have the chance of one day choosing to walk towards Him. 

Life is complex. But complexity always starts from something simple. 

Recently, my life has been complicated by moving to a new state. Anyone who has relocated knows how tough it can be. After a month of procrastinating, I finally went to the department of transport and got my car registered. Yay! I was given two license plates for my vehicle, and, with a sense of accomplishment, I drove home. 

That afternoon, I pulled out a wrench from the back of the car and managed to remove and replace my back license plate. I’m not particularly handy, so this was an achievement. Since the vehicle was from PA, it did not have a front license plate, which means less work for me…or so I thought. 

There were no bolts on the front plate.

I began with searching the vehicle for bolts in case there were spares, but I had no luck. I found a box of nuts and bolts at the church, but I could not find any that fit. After wrestling with the unsuitable bolts, I went to Home Depot and bought a packet of “license plate bolts”. But alas, they didn’t fit either. 

I felt defeated. 

In the Theta Alpha Journal I read about praying for the Ukrainians. In our local church we pray for good outcomes from surgery. Frequently I hear comments like, “I’ll be praying for you today; hope it goes well!”

I am not criticizing this. I think wishing well of people, and thinking of them empathetically, is a good thing. But I think that prayer can be much more.

What God wants is our eternal happiness. Shouldn’t that be what we pray for as well? Nadine Rogers, in the Theta Alpha Journal, reminds us that those who lived in Jesus’ time were the first to expect Jesus to solve their earthly problem. It happened to be Roman oppression. We find this so obvious–those simple Jews, expecting God to solve their worldly problems!–then we pray for earthly things ourselves.

My friend Susie’s ex-husband had an affair, lied about it, initiated a divorce, and never expressed remorse. Susie once told me that in the depths of her shock, she still had a tiny inkling of clarity about the situation. “I knew I was actually okay,” she said, “but that he was in deep trouble.” He was the one to pray for, she said, not herself. She knew she was going to be okay. But him? She wasn’t sure at all.