I stood at the bottom of my stairs the other day for a good five minutes waiting for a child to actually come to the car. This may not seem egregious, but when I was told a couple of times earlier that they would be right down, my perspective was that that meant right now. How parental of me.

Have you ever felt the need to close your eyes and count to 10 as you wait on your children when you call them? Do you, as I often do, need to take many calming breaths as their pace does not meet the pace of yours or their choices do not match the ones you would make? Does one of their responses cut just a bit too close and your response is perhaps lacking the charity you want to give but are not in the moment feeling?

Welcome to motherhood and parenting.

I feel as if I should open my front door and invite you for a cup of tea. We are compatriots upon the same journey. Watching our children grow and helping them mature is not unknown or unexpected for us, but for many, and even we veteran parents, it is a changing landscape that offers sanctification around every corner.

Lately, the keys to mothering in this season that we have shared are to pause and listen. I have two groups of children: those out of the home and those still in. Both deserve to be heard. Both have thoughts that I am amazed with and also thoughts that I disagree with. Practicing pausing and listening reminds me to have it be less of me and more of them; more of Jesus and less of me. In pausing, we listen, watch and trust.

I picked up the pieces the other day from a mothering palm-to-my-forehead moment I watched my child walk through. This is not the first time and I know for sure it will not be the last, and I’m grateful for the privilege of being present and the humility in seeing my weaknesses as I responded. Children are often a mirror to the good and bad within us.

As I pray how to cherish and celebrate the uniqueness that is each of my children, and there are eight of them so this is no easy feat, I hear the Lord say, “Let them speak. Listen to them,” and Mother Mary’s gentle hand on my shoulder whispering “Practice the pause.” I am learning that that doesn’t mean I have to agree with what they are saying. I don’t have to comment back. They might just really need to be heard by me to feel loved.

If we don’t listen, they will find those who do and then we run the risk of losing the space in their lives as a trusted person. I can simply push pause on my tendency to teach and push play on my desire to build a deeper relationship with my children. It’s the simple art of knowing that when we say no to something, we are saying yes to something else. In this case, I am saying yes to celebrating the fact that this child wants to share their thoughts with me. Trust is built over time, and time is not a given. Every moment of trust is a gift. Some I’ve earned and some I am still trying to.

I do, however, take my role as mother seriously. I am commissioned to raise up these souls in my house and they are aging almost as fast as I seem to be these days. My actions spoken and unspoken are a living witness to them; the gospel I hopefully “speak” to them every day. So I must choose my moments.

I have taken to inviting Momma Mary into the conversation. When I pause, I pray a Hail Mary to myself (sometimes even while they are talking, just so I do not interrupt!). When they are late, short-fused (where did they get that from?), irritable, tired, hungry, sad, rambunctious, giddy, and sassy, perhaps we open the door to the Holy Family and ask them to enter into this space. Help me see with your eyes and speak with your lips. There is a humility in this and I’m training myself as much as I am them. As I have grown more confident in praying, sometimes I say these words out loud.

Jesus, Joseph and Mary, please help me listen in this conversation, help there be less of me and more of you. Help everyone feel heard and just let your grace and mercy be in this moment. Amen.

I had a moment the other day with one of my college students that could have left that child going to campus bitter and hurt and their mother feeling very similarly. Instead, I took a breath, marched myself upstairs, sat in front of them and asked if we could talk. First, I prayed those words. It changed everything. Breaths were taken and hearts were softened. It’s not a magic cure. There is a huge dose of humility and surrender needed, but God will provide it.

Our witness is necessary so that our children can see, feel and live God’s presence made paramount in the life of the family in the good and in the difficult. Lord, give us the grace to practice the pause and invite your presence into all our good and challenging parenting moments.

Hail Mary text surrounded by watercolor leaves

This article also appeared at the Catholic Times.