Chapter One
The Journey
Begins: Birth to Pre-Kindergarten
For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb.
I praise you because I am
fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. * PSALM 139:13-14 *
Our strong-willed child, Aaron Joseph Smiley,
arrived in February of 1981. I still remember the moment of his
birth. Dr. Tanner (our family physician and the father of five sons)
announced, "It's a boy!"
Naively, my enthusiastic response was, "Oh good! I already
know how to do boys!" I don't remember seeing Dr. Tanner's eyes
roll to the back of his head, but undoubtedly he wondered how
I could make such a ridiculous statement!
Our first son, Matthew, was two years old at the time. I would
classify him as a compliant child. It was not that he always obeyed
us perfectly, but he did "aim to please." As a former teacher, I had
perfected the "schoolteacher look." You know how it goes: lips
drawn tightly in a pseudo-pucker, eyebrows knit together, and a
very stern countenance. That "look" was completely effective with
my oldest son. A stern look or a gentle scolding generally brought
about conviction, legitimate repentance, and a heartfelt vow to
"do better." (Can you see why I had such confidence when son
number two was born? Just look at how well I had been doing with
son number one!)
But the truth was that I did not know how to "do boys" any
more than l had conquered the art of parenting. And that was a
truth that I was soon to discover. Forget "the look" when it came
to Aaron.
"Liam, my four-year-old and I were driving
home from preschool, and he asked if we could
have lunch at McDonald's. I explained that it
wasn't a possibility. Because Liam is strong-willed
(and not to be deterred by such a flimsy statement),
he pursued the idea with great determination.
When I finally convinced him that I was NOT
going to stop at the fast-food restaurant for lunch,
Liam folded his arms across his chest and
humphed, 'Well, Mommy, you are making a bad
choice.' My own words, frequently spoken, were
repeated in an effort to manipulate me with guilt
and gain control."
While Matthew was compliant and aimed to please, Aaron had
different ideas. I used to explain his strong-willed nature this way:
"If we draw a line in the sand and tell Aaron not to cross it and
why, and we tell him the penalty for disobedience, he will immediately
step up to the line, as close as he can possibly get, and inquire,
'What did you say you were going to do to me if I step over
this line?' Then he reviews the consequences and determines
whether or not to cross the line. And many times, over the line
he goes." Ah, a strong-willed child.
Aaron did not always use defiance to try to get his way. This
sweet little boy came into the world looking just like the Gerber
baby, complete with wispy blond hair, big blue eyes, and a ready
smile. One of my earliest recollections of his manipulation skills
involved the use of charm, not defiance. When he was just a little
over two years old, I remember scolding Aaron. I don't recall the
issue, but I do remember his actions. When I finally paused in
my reprimand and took a breath, Aaron smiled his deep-dimpled
smile, reached out with his chubby little hands and patted me
gently on both cheeks. "Dat be alwight, Mommy," he cooed in
an effort to comfort me, his overwrought mother. Ah, what a sweet,
caring child. Wait a minute! I wasn't the one in need of comfort.
I wasn't the one in trouble, he was! I'm sure Aaron thought, "If
this works, why not go for it?"
"Christine did not want to go to the first day of
preschool. I talked her into getting into the truck,
and then she was all excited and really wanted to
go. We got there, and all of a sudden, she was
mad-screaming, crying, absolutely mad-and she
could not believe that I was going to make her go
into this lady's room. So she would not go, would
not go, would not go. 'Mom, I hate that lady, don't
make me go, don't make me go. I can't believe
you're doing this to me. I don't want to go, she's
mean, she's mean, she's mean! I hate that lady. I
hate that lady 'cause she hates me. Take me home
right now!'"
Strong emotion can definitely sway a parent. "I can't believe
you're doing this to me" can make any parent step back and think.
Hopefully, the parent filters this sentiment through the mind to
realize that strong emotion and words like "mean" and "hate"
are words used to manipulate and gain control. Also, strong emotion
can translate into a tantrum, which can add the term "embarrassment"
to your list of sentiments.
Very few tricks that Aaron tried (charm, guilt, strong emotion,
or otherwise) worked with his dad. Remember, I told you that
John is a strong-willed child
turned responsible adult. He
knew the tricks and the importance
of wise parenting.
At one point, John and
two-year-old Aaron were literally
eyeball-to-eyeball on
the stairs, and the words from John's mouth were as follows:
"Aaron, you will not win. When I tell you to do something, you
must do it." If only that was the last time he had to make that statement!
Even at an early age, Aaron desired control of his world.
"On another occasion, Emily was sitting at the
table doing a craft project with her dad, and she
told him out of the blue that he was a genius. Her
dad asked her why, and she said, 'because you do
everything I say.' Emily was three-and-a-half
when this happened."
Aaron accepted Christ as his Savior at around four years old.
It was actually the result of the guilt and remorse he felt about
his own out-of-control, strong-willed behavior. He was having a
very bad day and was in trouble with everyone in the family-Dad,
Mom, and his older brother.
Here is a little background. Beginning when he was a toddler,
Aaron was interested in agriculture and animals. I remember
pulling into a cornfield on one of the family farms and hearing
little Aaron pipe up from the backseat, "Dat torn looks dood!"
(Translation: That corn looks good!) Our older son did not notice
the status of the corn and had no opinion about its potential yield.
Aaron's paternal grandfather is a farmer. This common love of
agriculture made these two fast friends from the very beginning.
Now, back to the story of Aaron's personal encounter with
Christ. As I said previously, that day he was behaving quite poorly
(gross understatement). Bedtime finally came, and with it, the
hope for a better tomorrow with less confrontation. Finally, there
was peace and quiet. The next morning Aaron was up quite early.
He waddled down the stairs in his footie pajamas, dragging one
of his favorite blankets. When he arrived at the threshold of the
kitchen, he stopped abruptly, waited for my attention, and then
proceeded with his announcement.
"I asked Jesus into my heart last night," he declared. I was
thrilled about this and immediately began to ask him about the
details.
"That is just great!! Tell me all about it," I pried. "What happened
to help you make this decision?"
"Well," he began, "I was sooooooo bad yesterday that everyone
was mad at me. I figured that even Grandpa would have been
mad."
(Remember, as far as Aaron was concerned, he and Grandpa
were as tight as you could get. So the thought of Grandpa being
mad was a very serious thing!)
He continued, "But I knew that even if everyone else was mad
at me, Jesus loved me, so I asked Him into my heart."
By the way, that conversion experience was real and is often referred
to by Aaron as "the most boring testimony possible." Personally
I call it "the testimony every mother wants her child to
have." Understanding God's love was important and would temper
Aaron's behavior somewhat, but it definitely did not turn him
into a compliant child.
You have made known to me the path of life; you will fill me with joy in your presence, with eternal pleasures at your right hand. * PSALM 16:11 *
The same year, Aaron became a big brother. This event was
exciting for everyone in the family. And Aaron was no exception.
I can still picture his little face tightening up with excitement and
hear him say, "I love Jonathan so much-I just want to squeeze
his guts out!" The fact that everyone else in the family thought that
he just might do that very thing was a little scary. But we kept a
cautious eye on the baby and Aaron and watched as the little
strong-willed child assumed the role of nurturing big brother.
And he has given us this command: Whoever loves God must also love his brother. * 1 JOHN 4:21 *
A Closer Look
with Aaron
My earliest memory of being a strong-willed
child and having an intense desire to be in charge of
my own life was when I was four years old. We
bought a small house in town and proceeded to tear
down our old farmhouse in order to build a new home
on that location. Even though Matthew and I were
little, there were things we did to help my dad with
his project. Because there were raw materials in the
old house that could be utilized in our new one, he
was literally tearing the house down rather than
burning it. One of our jobs was to sort various building
supplies, like hardwood, from the useless things,
like shingles.
One day we were carrying materials from one pile
to another. It goes without saying that this was a silly
job. As a four-year-old, I could see little importance in
simply reorganizing the junk! And if such a stupid job
really was legitimate, for goodness sakes, let's get a
tractor going to at least make the task easier and
more fun. I made that suggestion, and it fell on deaf
ears. Dad, for some reason-probably because a tractor
was really not necessary-said that our work assignment
was NOT going to change.
If there is one thing a strong-willed child dislikes,
it is doing any task or assignment that he deems useless-especially
if he suggested a "better way" to do
the meaningless job, and it was rejected. And on that
particular day, that is precisely what happened! I
wanted my idea to be honestly considered. Using a
tractor made complete sense to me. I wanted to defend
my position, but I wasn't given that opportunity.
My older brother might have thought the sorting
job was a bad idea too, and he may even have liked
my idea to use a tractor; but he didn't choose to cause
a problem. I did. I simply decided that I would not do
what Dad had ordered and expected. Dad would have
to pay the price for not considering my great idea. I
wouldn't work as hard as he wanted me to, and he
would have to shift some of his attention to me and
away from his agenda. I remember Matthew telling me
that my slowdown strike was a bad idea. When Dad
noticed my manipulation of the situation, slowing down
but not completely disobeying (a gentle way to say defiance
under control), he told me precisely what I was
supposed to do, and he also told me the consequences
for disobedience. I would be paddled. I pondered my
options, much to my brother's discomfort. "You better
do it, Aaron," he said. "Dad's serious!" I knew that he
was serious, but I had to decide if my work slowdown,
impeding Dad's progress, was more important than
the pain I'd receive. And, guess what? I decided to go
for the paddling.
As I cried, Dad announced that he expected me to
do as I was told. As you may guess, I weighed the pros
and cons of another confrontation. My brother (the
compliant one) by now determined that I needed my
head examined. "Come on, Aaron, do what you're supposed
to do." He could not fathom the thought that
winning my case was so important that I would pay a
price. That was the first time, but not the last, that I
realized we were wired differently. He couldn't understand
my strong-willed nature, and I couldn't understand
why he couldn't understand. (But I did
appreciate his sympathy when I decided to go for a
second round before my Dad was able to make his
point that defiance would not win.)
Your word is a lamp to my feet
and a light for my path. * PSALM 119:105 *
* * *
By the time Aaron reached school age, there was no doubt in
my mind that Aaron was a high-maintenance child. In my thinking,
that title "high-maintenance" put most of the responsibility
on us as parents. We didn't have a label or an excuse for behavior
that needed to be corrected. Just as a fine-tuned race car demands
more sophisticated and time-consuming maintenance, I
realized that our potential "top performer" demanded more sophisticated
(read: frequent and intense) effort. As he prepared to
go to the adventure called school, I prayed that the adults who
would have his attention for the majority of the day would appreciate
his attributes, keep him under control, and help to mold
and nurture his development.
Because John and I are both teachers by training, we instilled
in Aaron a respect for education and the teaching profession. He
also knew that we would reinforce any discipline administered
in school. It was our hope that the teachers would care about
Aaron enough to control and encourage him. Some did, some did
not.
(Continues.)
