(This article courtesy of the Arlington Catholic Herald.)
As a teenager and young woman, I measured my future husband against Pa, strong, steadfast and tender. I measured myself against the best of Laura and Mary and, later, Ma. I read the books at least once a year, memorizing entire passages. Then, I became busy with a family of my own.
I wanted to create in my own modern family the warmth I found in Laura’s. To some degree, I have succeeded. And in one important aspect, I have exceeded. Laura was not Catholic and in the true faith; I have discovered the domestic church, which is even better than the little house.
God has blessed my efforts and, in an act of boundless generosity, has given me a new favorite author. He’s outdone Himself this time. She is Melissa Wiley, author of the prequels to the Laura Ingalls Wilder’s books. I like her books even better than Laura’s and my soul is satisfied again with stories of whole-hearted families. This time, I know bits of the stories before they are published. This time, the author is a dear personal friend. She is also a Catholic, homeschooling mother. We write very different genres but, by the grace of God, we seem to bless each other’s efforts.
July is a stressful month in my house. My husband is traveling extensively; my professional workload grows almost impossibly heavy, and life seems as oppressive as the hazy Virginia days. On a recent day, when my home seemed far less than the Little House ideal, I received the following from Lissa, where she talks about the struggle she is having with a character:
“And I want to show how even the most harmonious and loving households can fall into discord sometimes and how you get through that by loving each other harder. So this book is a bit of a departure for me — I've felt at times like I'm betraying that picture of the whole-hearted family I want the Tuckers [the childhood family of Laura Ingalls’ grandmother] to be — though of course I know it isn't a betrayal — that's the point — crisis comes to all families, and there's a way to journey through the crisis without turning on each other or drifting apart.”
Here it is, another rule for life in a Little House book. You get through by loving each other harder. The other book that influenced me in childhood and burns in me in adulthood is the Children’s Living Bible. Well-worn, dog-eared and highlighted, I find instructions for loving each other harder in the first chapter of Corinthians.
In times of crisis, we need to be more patient with each other. We need to be kinder. We need to guard our hearts against jealousy or envy, even jealousy of time and attention. We need to remain humble, recognizing that our successes are God’s and that our failures can be redeemed by Him. We need to make an effort to be selfless, with a glad servant’s heart, though we may feel that no one is serving us. We need to give way, to yield, instead of demanding our own way.
My Children’s Bible says that love is not irritable or touchy. That is a tall order for parents of small children who are working hard at raising families while building careers. We will fail each other. And love does not hold grudges. So, in the nineteenth century fictional life of Lissa’s character or in my twenty-first century real life, love means apologizing. “Loving each other harder” means apologizing sincerely and apologizing more.
Lissa is right. Whole-hearted, faith-filled families do encounter crises. They might even encounter more than most families. But they know that God provides a roadmap for the even the most treacherous journey and He has given us clear instructions for loving each other harder.
