Not-so-toy houses.

Some time ago I wrote a post called "Toy Houses" in which I quoted St. Francis de Sales.  That was before I started up on my Introduction to the Devout Life series (which, by the way, I've got only the final part of the book to blog... more on that soon).  The passage I quoted is really what got me interested in St. Francis.  Here's the whole post:

Jen at Conversion Diary has a post up with a quote from St. Francis de Sales that I'd never encountered before.   Quoting it in full because it deserves it:

Soon we shall be in eternity and then we shall see how insignificant our worldly preoccupations were and how little it mattered whether some things got done or not; however, right now we rush about as if they were all-important. When we were little children how eagerly we used to gather pieces of broken tile, little sticks, and mud with which to build houses and other tiny buildings, and if someone knocked them over, how heartbroken we were and how we cried! But now we understand that these things really didn't amount to much. One day it will be like this for us in heaven when we shall see that some of the things we clung to on earth were only childish attachments.

I'm not suggesting that we shouldn't care about these little games and trifling details of life, for God wants us to practice on them in this world; but I would like to see us not so strained and frantic in our concern about them. Let's play our childish games since we are children; but at the same time, let's not take them too seriously. And if someone wrecks our little houses or projects, let's not get too upset, because when night falls and we have to go indoors -- I'm speaking of our death -- all those little houses will be useless; we shall have to go into our Father's house. Do faithfully all the things you have to do, but be aware that what matters most is your salvation and the fulfillment of that salvation through true devotion. 

Isn't that wonderful, realistic, practical writing about detachment?  It seems that so many of the saints are urging us to be ethereal and otherworldly, passing through the things of this world like light and with nary a thought about any of the stuff around.  Well, thank you St. Francis for recognizing that most of us live in the world, with children and spouses and other people we provide for... we touch the things of this world, and are touched by them.  

I think he does a fantastic job putting things in their proper place.  "I'm not saying that we shouldn't care... because God wants us to practice on them... Let's play our childish games... but... not take them too seriously."  Strikes the perfect note, I think...

 

I still really, really like that passage a lot, but I've come to realize it's not as simple as it seems:  our daily work is not all "toy houses."  St. Francis says "we shall see that some of the things we clung to on earth were only childish attachments."  I don't think it's instantly obvious which are and which aren't.  Especially when our daily work is raising and educating our children.  But even so when our daily work brings us into contact with grown-up human beings, strangers and friends and acquaintances.

Other human beings are not toy houses.  To be a Christian is to believe that the things of this world are unimportant; but also to believe that the people of this world are vastly, vastly important.  And to us, the people whose special care and education has been entrusted to us are especially important and our greatest responsibility.  

All that is easy to say, but my point is:  It's a little tricky to see where the "toy house" ends and the "real house" begins.  One of my daily jobs is teaching the children.  I get very preoccupied with the school schedule and the best way to go about instructing them and how best to balance my time.  Last night I woke up in the middle of the night and found myself grappling with the question of which I should teach first to the middle-schoolers, the dative case or the ablative case?  This is not something that should keep me up at night, but it does.  

OK, so maybe dative vs. ablative is a toy house.  I shouldn't be so worried about it.  What about my seven-year-old's First Communion prep, though?  And what about history?  What about science?  There's moral content and theological content to all this stuff.   Like it or not, at every minute aren't we forming these eternal beings?  How can anything in contact with growing minds not also touch their souls?   And that is what starts me getting "strained and frantic."

Here's another example.  I hate it when the house is messy.  I'm not exactly a neat freak but I feel so much better when it's all picked up and tidy.  "Strained and frantic" to get things back in order -- that's me.  And yes, "someone" wrecks my little project all the time.  So reading that, it's all very well to say, "Hey, keeping the house orderly -- not such a big deal.  It's got to be an example of the "childish attachments" St. Francis was talking about.  I should calm down about it."  But then I remember that I have to get after the children to hang up the coats and take off their muddy boots and put books away instead of sleeping with them and crunching up all the pages, and I start thinking:  And yet it is my job to teach the children to love order and discipline and to take care of their things and think of others' feelings and to do their part in our family, and how can that be a toy house? 

So it gets all mixed up in my mind.  Obviously I should worry less and love more, but it's disturbingly hard to tell the difference between "doing faithfully all you have to do" and "taking [all you have to do] too seriously."  I mean, is that entirely interior or is there something exterior about it?

I could start by YELLING less, I suppose.

 

Comments

[MelanieB]

Wow. I could totally have written so much of this post. It is so hard to distinguish between my own over attachment to order in the house and a healthy amount of fostering a love of orderliness and good habits in my children. I too could start by yelling less.

I wonder if one way of going about it might not be to set concrete goals for organizational/cleanliness habits you want your children to learn and a timetable of when you will work on those particular habits. Pick a few of the most important things and then decide to let the others slide for now. That way you are only yelling/ nagging about one thing at a time.

Of course, I find it easy to say. Not so easy to actually do. But I'm also dealing with a 4 year-old and a two year-old while your school age kids are probably in a much more trainable stage. Right? (Please humor me and tell me I'm right. They will get better and more trainable as they get older.)

[bearing]

I think so, Melanie. I have never gotten organized enough to give the kids regular chores (maybe partly because life changes too fast for me to be very regular about them myself) but we do all clean up the house together a couple of times a day, and I can give the 7- and 10-year-olds many jobs that do lighten my load -- they can load and unload the dishwasher, put away towels and kids' clothes, make beds, tidy up play areas and the entryway, shovel snow, make snacks, and start a loaf of bread in the bread machine. The 10yo, at least, can also be instructed to keep the 4yo occupied for an hour when necessary. So, yes, it gets better, although so far I've always had more kids by the time it got better, which tends to make the "better" not quite so noticeable. ;-)

[Amy]

I get tripped up on that fine line all the time - like, do I serve the kids (teaching by example) or let them serve me/others (forcing them to not be so selfish). I guess in this case it's both...so bad example. But you know what I mean. I think you are right, start by not yelling so much (talking to myself here) - act in charity, teach them to also, and things will fall into place better.