I Don't Want to be Susan

My English 97 class is reading The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. Usually, for our first discussion, I put the children's names on the board and ask for descriptions of their characters. Lucy is everything good, Edmund everything bad, and Peter the leader, which among other things means he is brave and adventurous. Poor Susan always, and perhaps rightly so, gets the tag of being not only the mother but a realistic nag and kill-joy. Though Susan does meet with a pretty awful fate in the Last Battle, I've never thought Lewis was condemning her realistic or prudent tendencies. Her fault comes in abandoning child-like faith for worldliness, with a warning that those inclined towards being cautious and "logical" have a greater tendency towards embracing the seen versus the unseen.

Anyway, for the first time (perhaps because I'm now a mother) I realized how synonymous "nag," or "kill-joy" are with "mom." Why is this? Is it because we are inclined towards nagging and scolding? Mrs. Green gave us some wonderful books at Merian's shower, and I'm currently reading one by Lou Priolo called Teach Them Diligently. In it, he quotes H. Clay Tumbull on scolding:

"The word itself seems to have a primary meaning akin to that of barking or howling. Scolding is always an expression of a bad spirit and of a loss of temper...scolding is never in order. If the parent is tempted to speak rapidly, or to multiply words without stopping to weigh them, or to show an excited state of feeling, the parent's first duty is to gain entire self-control."

Ouch. I always want to be Lucy, but I know I'm Susan, and I am aware (and it scares me) of my tendencies towards being overly cautious and obnoxious. As I have begun to think more about training a child up - how to discipline the sin but encourage and grow the soul - I've been humbled by the extraordinary challenge of biblical child-rearing. I need to pray A LOT more. I need to know scriptures A LOT better. And, I need to be a little more like Lucy. I want our children to know reckless prudence - to step into the world of Narnia but still remember their coats. I long for them to have curious wisdom - to take a voyage on the Dawn Treader but know not to ring the bell in Charn. I want to, as Lou Priolo also says, praise and encourage the good things I see in their characters seven times to every reprimand or rebuke. In a world that is scary and seemingly out of control, I want them to live with reckless, guarded abandon as they remember "the Lord bring the counsel of the nations to nothing; he makes the plans of the peoples of no effect. The counsel of the Lord stands forever" (Psalm 33:10-11).