Jennifer Hatch, April, Water off a duck's back

Feeding the ducks, March 31.

My April project was supposed to be "circle journals" with my teenagers, wherein I would write them a short message daily, or tape a comic strip to the page, or share a joke or scripture passage. I would leave the journals on their pillows. The circle element is that it would (hopefully) go round and round between us.

I know what you're thinking: There's a high-tech version of this. It's called Facebook!

My motive, when I outlined the project in January, was largely fueled by my 18-year-old son's imminent graduation from high school. I wanted to create something tangible that he could cart with him to college and a mission, something that he could hold in his hands and read on both bad and good days. I wanted to impart all of a mother's wisdom before my son left the nest.

That's the idealistic account. This project never got off the ground. April was a hard, blue month for me. I felt like I couldn't do any of the regular stuff well, let alone take on anything new. My discouragement (all the more discouraging, because there wasn't an identifiable reason) affected the way I treated my family. I realized that written words left on my son's pillow -- no matter how heart-felt -- would be hollow if the words I shared with him in person were mean, angry ones.

Thus, I changed my project to being kinder to my son. You must know, he exasperates me! One day last month he came in the door after school and I regaled him with all the messes I'd had to clean up after him, all the siblings I'd had to soothe after his whirlwind treatment to them that morning. He asked why my first words to him were always complaining.

It was a knife. I didn't know I was doing it so often, but as I thought back,  I sadly saw that I was. I resolved to always greet him with a smile and kind words. It has taken some effort, because he still frustrates me so much! Yet I've noticed this one small thing -- to greet him with genuine enthusiasm and love -- has shaped how I think of him. He also approaches me more now. (Duh, I jumped down his back before!) He seeks me out to share a new game he loaded on his phone, or to show me a video, or to ask  me about the proms of old. Sheesh.

Some of you in Davis County may have seen the same regional conference that I did on April 27. Cheryl Esplin related President Spencer W. Kimball's trip behind the Iron Curtain. Pres. Kimball knew that at that time school teachers in Eastern Europe and the Soviet Union taught there was no God, and he wondered how the parents helped their children stay faithful to the gospel.

The parents answered, "We teach them. The false teachings of the world are like water off a duck's back."

YES! I thought as I sat and listened. This, THIS is what I need to know to help my son. 

I have struggled the most because my son mocks spiritual things. In times of my disciplining him, he has said disdainfully, "What, did the spirit tell you to do that?" My biggest fear is that once he leaves home he will be too easily swayed by poor influences. I feel like I have a very small window of impact. It's scary.

Sister Esplin spoke of loving one another, of teaching in the Savior's way. She said we must know the interests, hopes, desires and potential of our children. She said we must never give up. We must always find something positive to share with our children.

In all my thinking of how I can "waterproof" my son, I realized anew that I need to love him more. I need to let all the things he does that bug me run off ... well, like water off a duck's back. I need to coat myself with the sure salve that I am lucky to have him as my son. He is Heavenly Father's son, too.

He's had a habit for years that drives me absolutely crazy. He plugs in his earphones and paces back and forth, back and forth across the living room and its creaky old hardwood floors, tossing an object up and down, up and down. He likes the heft of butter knives. His steps are punctuated by the loud frequent drops of those poor, abused knives. I've asked him repeatedly to stop it. Most of the time, my demands are anything but nice.

Water off a duck's back. At his baby shower there was a typical exchange of motherly wisdom. One guest said, "Pick your battles." I didn't understand it then (he's my oldest, after all!), but I sure do now.

I can't let his pacing, and all his other bothersome traits, ruin our relationship. Instead I will think, when I hear those steps, "He's home. He's safe."

Plus, as I sat to write this I had a great idea. Instead of getting upset at him, every time he paces I will come give him a hug. "I'm so glad you're here!" That will show him! Quack.