Conflicts are Inevitable

Photo by Taylor Flowe on Unsplash

The fire truck image is not, as you might think, a reference to “putting out fires” in our relationships. It is, in fact, a reference to my daughter’s toy fire truck, one of those “learn to walk” cars, the type that can be pushed from behind but can also be ridden on. Mercifully, the lights and sounds no longer function, as it’s 15 years old and the batteries have never been changed.

I bring the fire truck up because “NOOOOOO! MYYYYYY FIRE TRUCK!” has been the most commonly uttered screamed phrase in our home this month. We’ve had several friends over lately, and our toddler is still learning to share her toys. When I was pregnant, our home was rarely in a state that I felt comfortable welcoming visitors, so we usually went over to other people’s houses. I’ve since learned that this was a mistake. The result is that our two-year-old is perfectly content to share her friends’ toys (she really plays quite well with others and very much understands the concept of taking turns), but she’s… much less content to share her own toys with her friends. Hence the screaming.

We’re trying to work with her on (a) before friends arrive, putting away toys that she is not comfortable sharing, so that any toys in the living room are fair game, and (b) taking turns with her own toys the way she does with others’ toys. It’s a work in progress, for sure, and often involves “hacks” like, “Why don’t you push the firetruck while your friend rides it?” or “Why don’t you let your friend sit in your chair and you can feed him some blueberries?” It also involves a decent number of tears and apologies all around…

As a result, I’ve been thinking a lot lately about apologies and forgiveness and patience. Not one but three of the spiritual works of mercy have to do with this aspect of marriage and parenting: to admonish sinners, to bear wrongs patiently, and to forgive offences willingly. To be sure, admonishing sinners comes up a lot more frequently in parenting, what with having to remind children that they can’t just snatch things out of people’s hands or take a swing at someone when they’re upset. But gentle correction, patient forbearance, and willing forgiveness are integral to marriage, parenting, and life in general. Any time you, a fallen human being, are interacting with another fallen human being, there’s bound to be need for an apology sooner or later. And we have both the privilege and the responsibility to teach our children how to handle conflict. Constructive conflict can build our families up, draw us closer to one another, and even be a conduit of healing. Destructive conflict, on the other hand, can sow division, unrest, and vice.

I want our children to know how to handle conflict well. How to fight without putting their self-worth on the line. How to voice their needs and pain without hurting the other person. How to recognize when they’ve been in the wrong and initiate an apology and repair. How to graciously accept an apology when one is offered. Fighting well has been one of the biggest graces from our marriage, and it’s something I never want our children to not know.¹ I want, oddly enough, to be able to fight in front of our children without them feeling scared or uncomfortable.² Not that I want to fight in front of our children all the time, or about any topic; rather, I want our style of argument to be one that we would not be ashamed of if our children were in the room.

So what does it look like to teach our children to handle conflict well?

I remember when I was little, my parents always apologized in front of my brother and I if they had fought in front of us. As a kid, I didn’t think much of it at all, but as I’ve grown up, I’ve realized how formative it was for me to see the repair portion of the cycle played out in front of me. I brought it up with my mom one time, and she blew my mind by sharing that it was an intentional choice on her and my dad’s part. “Yeah, we would usually make up privately, but we always insisted on a second apology in front of you guys.”

Who thinks of that stuff??

It makes me wonder, once again, how much wisdom we’ve lost in the departure from big collective cultures where new parents wouldn’t feel so new and lost and alone, because they’d’ve grown up watching the other adults in their lives and helping raise their siblings, cousins, niblings, and friends. Certainly, the Internet can be a helpful source of information, but nothing can replace watching someone else’s children when it comes to making decisions about how you want to raise your own.

But I digress.

As always with children, we want them to learn proper, virtuous behavior in two ways: observation of adults and formal teaching or scripting. So I’ve been thinking about the ways in which our local community of toddler families are using these two means to pursue the end of raising polite, empathetic children who, when a conflict arises, are equipped to handle it effectively and charitably.

Observation of Adults

I’m going to share two points here in “backwards” order, because this is the order in which these two items came to my attention. Two key ways I think we can model healthy and holy conflict management/resolution for our children are, first, offering both apologies and forgiveness graciously, and second, being open and honest about our position in the conflict.

So apologies. The question for us to reflect on is how we apologize and respond to apologies? I began thinking about this in college because

James Dietz

wrote his senior thesis on the nature of forgiveness, and I quickly realized how deficient I was in this area. The first habit I had to break was that of responding to an apology by brushing it off: “That’s okay” or “You’re fine” or “Don’t worry about it.” I thought that I was being nice by minimizing the offense (whether large or small, and whether it actually offended me or not) to spare the other person the guilt of thinking they’d hurt me. But I’ve come to learn two things over the last few years. The first lesson is that our language shapes our understanding and perception of reality. In other words, if I am continuously minimizing offenses done to me, then eventually I will come to believe that I deserve to be treated poorly. On the other hand, if I choose to say the words, “I forgive you,” I am able to acknowledge the hurt and injustice while simultaneously releasing the other person from punishment. The second lesson I’ve learned is that we as human beings crave forgiveness. We are built for community and communion. We are very aware when we hurt someone, and it is a false mercy for that hurt to be denied. The words, “I forgive you,” offer peace and even healing in a way that “You’re fine” or “It’s not a big deal” simply cannot. Thus, even when I am truly unphased by the situation, saying, “I forgive you” is likely still the best response and the most helpful to the person saying, “I’m sorry”.

Since James and I have gotten married, the biggest habit I’ve had to work to break is that of pridefully sticking to my guns (and my bad mood) until we both cool off, usually hours (or days, eep) later. This one is still very much a work in progress because boy oh boy can I hold a grudge. It’s something I hate about myself, and something I am constantly needing to bring to the Lord. It seems so much easier, in the moment, to mope and make everyone else as miserable as I am and trust that eventually we’ll “forget about it”. But we don’t forget, and worse, we don’t reconcile. Every choice to “wait it out” sows seeds of resentment, perceived victimization, and explosive conflict later on. So I’m trying (really, really trying, with mixed success) to recognize my own wrongs and begin the process of repair with an apology (and without a justification), or to accept an apology when one is offered, without reopening the fight or trying to get the last word.

Furthermore, I’m having to learn how to voice my frustrations in a calm, measured, and considerate way - the only way out of a conflict (at least for me, in this season) is through. Rather than lashing out, making gross generalizations and drawing in pointed (and not always relevant) examples from six years ago, I’m trying to learn to pause, reflect, and speak the way I would like to be spoken to. The way I would like for my daughters to be spoken to. You might think that this is something that particularly comes up with adults, but honestly, it’s much more common for me to struggle to maintain an even tone when speaking to our toddler mid-meltdown. The opportunity and responsibility to model for her what an appropriate response looks like has been a tremendous gift from God, even while it not-infrequently brings me to tears trying to remain patient and charitable toward her. And this grace has then bled over into my adult relationships, where I am able to leverage the habit that the Lord has cultivated in me to both advocate for my own needs and listen to the needs of others more kindly.

This is hard, hard work. To quote dear St. Zelie:

I want to become a saint; it will not be easy at all. I have a lot of wood to chop, and it is as hard as stone. I should have started sooner, while it was not so difficult; but, in any case, better late than never.

It has been helpful for me to reflect on specific conflicts in the past - both those that were handled well and those that were not - as well as reflecting on the ways in which my own habits and expectations have been shaped by the family in which I was raised. Not only does this give me insight into how my behavior might impact those around me, it also forces me to make intentional choices about what aspects of my family of origin I want to pass on and which I don’t. There’s obviously a lot more that could be said here, but we’ve already covered a lot of ground, and I think it’s time to move on.

Formal Teaching and Scripting

This is the work we do in the moment with our children. When a conflict arises - our children take a toy out of a friend’s hand, waterboard their sister in the bathtub, or knock over a glass of water - it is our privilege and responsibility to walk them through the next steps. Rather than simply telling our children to "say sorry” and refusing to let them continue their play until they’ve done so, we can stop what we’re doing, be present with them in the moment, and walk them through the complex process of empathy, humility, charity, and repair.³

• Empathy: In toddlers, this might simply be calling their attention to the fact that someone is hurt and helping them recall a time when we were hurting in a similar way. This is about as close as we can get to “putting ourselves in their shoes” at this age. As our children get older and their emotional capacity develops further, this process can become more complex or abstract.

• Humility: It can be difficult to strike the balance of humility here - children are often fiercely proud of themselves or deeply ashamed. We are trying to cultivate the humility to admit they were in the wrong or the humility to admit they were hurt. (The latter usually comes very easily with young children, but far too soon their defenses will tell them to act unphased in order to protect themselves.)

• Charity: In a conflict situation, we might teach our children to assume the best instead of the worst about the other party’s actions, words, or intentions. We might show them how to be generous beyond what is demanded by justice; we might model how to be patient with a volatile younger sibling; or we might cultivate a habit of attending to someone who has been hurt even when we are not directly involved in the conflict.

• Repair: This is the act of actually apologizing, as well as anything that needs to be done to restore stolen goods, contribute to healing a person who has been hurt, or rebuilding trust where it has been broken. There is no one-size-fits-all act of repair we can suggest to our children, but we can give them insights into how we read context clues⁴ and how we ask the hurt or offended person what they need in order to feel regulated, safe, or secure.

Later in the day, or in a conversation about forgiveness that isn’t taking place in the aftermath of a conflict, we can chat with our children about how Jesus always forgives us when we do something wrong, and how we can be like Jesus by doing the same. Likewise, we can explain that apologizing and making a situation right are ways not only to love the people in our lives, but also to love Jesus. By allowing our children to become familiar with remorse (rather than simply shame or fear), we can offer them “remote preparation” for the sacrament of Confession. We can also beg the Lord to give us and our children the graces of humility in apologizing, graciousness in forgiving, and charity and gentleness in admonishing. And, as always, modeling and scripting virtuous behavior for our children also forces us to practice those virtues and, God-willing, become more proficient in them. Win-win.

You’ll notice that the goal is not simply to get our children to “say sorry”. This article from The Everymom does a great job of explaining why “say sorry” isn’t a holistic approach. Of course, a verbal apology can be a part - an important part - of reconciliation, but “sorry” is not a word that most toddlers fully understand, so we need to take the extra step to meet them at their level. This might include helping the child recall a time when they felt sad or angry, to allow them to better understand what the other child is going through. We might encourage our children to ask if their friend would like a hug or a cup of water. Or we might have them return a toy that was taken, ask to take a turn, or offer a trade.⁵ But regardless of the tactic that is most helpful or appropriate to any given situation, we are aiming to encourage empathy and genuine repair as well as apology.

Parting Thoughts

The wonderful thing about children is that, nine times out of ten, their conflicts are high-emotion and low-stakes. This combination can be so exasperating (really? you’re throwing yourself on the floor in hysterics because I asked you to say “no thank you” instead of “I don’t like that”?), but somehow that’s the beauty of it. Our children’s absolutely disproportionate responses to a dozen small frustrations throughout the day can be a challenge for us to deal with kindly, and the more we rise to the occasion and regulate our own emotions, the more they are able to watch and imitate as they begin to regulate their own. And since the world-ending tragedy of the hour is usually something as simple as “I can’t eat the entire bag of yogurt bites in one sitting”, they are able to practice that regulation in a controlled, low-pressure environment.

And when it comes to interpersonal conflict, likewise, there’s generally little to no significant danger involved, so we can allow them to focus on learning the skills of discussion, collaboration, compromise, and repair instead of worrying about whether their decision will socially uproot or financially destabilize the family. This is, of course, much easier said than done.

As our children age, their conflicts will become less black-and-white and more nuanced. Instead of facilitating a repair because “Bobby took the toy so Julie smacked him”, perhaps we’ll be guiding them through the waters of peer pressure and bullying, or explaining that gossip hurts in a way that is difficult to undo. We may also allow them a wider window into our own conflicts as adults, giving them the chance to hear us narrate our thought processes and repair attempts. (This puts pressure on us to be “on our best behavior” when we might otherwise want to choose selfishness or vice, which also ultimately benefits us as well!) The more we can model complex conflict resolution, the more complete of a toolbox we give them to resolve conflict in situations where we cannot or will not be present to facilitate. But we can hope that, if they’ve built up and practiced the skills of healthy, kind, fruitful conflict resolution as young children, these more complex conversations will be a natural next step instead of completely foreign territory.

Of course, one of the main reasons that we want to teach our children conflict resolution is so that they will be able to resolve conflict. We want to set them up for a lifetime of successful and nourishing relationships, and handling conflict is a key ingredient for success. But beyond simply the social benefits, we know from experience that, when we choose to argue well, to exercise patience with our families and readily offer forgiveness, the Lord is faithful to His promise: “Blessed are the merciful, for they shall be shown mercy… Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God.” There is a special grace for those who choose to work through the messiness of conflict in a way that imitates the Lord’s heart.

How do you apologize when you’ve hurt someone, or receive an apology when you’ve been hurt? How have you seen the fruit of frequent apology and forgiveness in your family?

1. I come from a fairly conflict-averse family and my husband from a very argumentative one. When we first got married, we both drew on the example that had been set for us, which resulted in a lot of unnecessary and unhealthy arguments about absolutely nothing important, where we both felt deeply hurt and deeply hurt one another in response. I like to hope that we’re constantly moving away from unhealthy or dysfunctional patterns in favor of an style of arguing that’s humble and curious, rather than prideful and defensive.

2. I think it’s important to state that this doesn’t have to be everyone’s goal - some couples are just loud fighters, which might scare children, but they are still happily married and resolve issues effectively. However, for our family, we’ve found that if we can maintain a fairly even-keeled tone, we are much more likely to reach a satisfactory resolution without either party feeling deeply hurt. Your mileage may vary.

3. I love Julie Voth’s comments in her recent article about how our children are not distractions from our work, but vice versa. I’m really trying to break the habit of keeping my phone on me and open regularly throughout the day and choosing instead to keep my priorities in order in my lived reality.

4. My favorite tip here is that no one can cry and drink water at the same time, so if the goal is to help a child calm down, offering them a sip or a cup of water can help them to regulate, and fetching said cup of water can be a chance for the “offender” child to make a repair attempt.

5. These last few options offer the risk and benefit that the other child can say “no”, which can be a further learning opportunity or a further disappointment, depending on the child’s mood.