But I love a few lines in this short meditation by Louis Lavelle. I'm going to just share a few of them here:
"Gentleness is active good will towards other men, not for what they are only, but for what they might be."
Gentleness is the active good will towards other men for what they might be...not for what they are already. Hmm...I often have to remember this in reference to my children. It's not so hard with the little people, because well, they are just so little and so innocent (most of the time) about their mischief. But as the children have gotten older and are reaching those middle school years, I begin to expect more from them, and I find it harder to be gentle with them in their difficult moments. I have to pause and think about the fact that I must guide their reasoning and thinking. I see this the most with my daughters as they grow. Talking with the girls has become much more important in the last year. Talking, talking, and talking...there is a lot of talking to work out problems with siblings, problems with school, problems with friendships. It seems like we talk a lot about how we feel and how to reign in on our feelings when they get out of whack, disproportionate, over-the-top, and IMPASSIONED! It can be cumbersome at times, but I believe it is necessary in order to teach my daughters how to understand their feelings and how to manage them. It's easy to just let ourselves indulge in moodiness and not recognize that we can really help ourselves. It's a lesson I did not learn as a young person and the result is that I have to learn this as an adult, which unfortunately, is more difficult.
"Gentleness enables us to accept all the laws of our human condition, and in so doing, to rise superior to them. He who revolts against these laws shows how deeply he resents them and is their slave, but he who accepts them in a spirit of gentleness penetrates through them, and fills them with light."
I find this point an antidote for the perfectionism that can trip me up so easily. Isn't it such a paradoxical truth: In accepting the laws of our human condition, its weakness, its imperfection...then somehow in really allowing that truth to seep into the soul...we become gentler. I often want to revolt against my own limitations and the limitations of others. I want to be able to do it all and have it all and to have it all wrapped up in a Hallmark card. But the Hallmark card is just an image...when the card gets opened isn't there the runny nose and the wrinkled shirt, the cranky kid, the tired husband, the moody teenager? I want to revolt against this! I want to yell out loud that it shouldn't be this way! This is not fair! I want to give my commands about how things "should" be. But that just isn't reality. And if in that moment I can, by the grace of Holy Spirit, reflect, take a deep breath and realize that by accepting this reality in all its limitations, then I can deal with it and actually begin to enjoy the ride. The self imposed pressure to be some perfect image melts. Of course, it doesn't mean everyone is magically cooperative and peaceful. It just means my approach is more peaceful, even more playful, and with this I hope that a spirit of gentleness "penetrates through them, filling them with light."
And finally...my favorite part that I read and reread:
"True gentleness is so considerate, so tactful, and so active that, when we meet it, we are always astonished that it can do us so much good, while at the same time apparently giving us nothing."
Isn't this just so poignant and so TRUE? I have a met a few souls in my life that radiate this type of gentleness (in fact, I am thinking of one particular woman right now that is in my life). Anytime I have had a moral, spiritual, parenting dilemma, she has been an open ear to hear me out and mull over things with me. She has this grace of being able to speak to me with such an active presence -- an active love -- that my heart expands and relaxes in her presence. I am able to hear difficult truths from her (like maybe how to handle a hard situation) without feeling anxious or judged. I go home, return to my world with a little more pep in my step, not realizing right away the reason why my heart is more light. It seems like it's hours later in the middle of making dinner or folding laundry that I'll have this "a-ha" moment and recognize that I just encountered the gentleness of Jesus in her. I find myself surprised by the beauty of God's goodness to me, how it slips up on me with such a quiet joy.
I suppose I should not be surprised by His goodness at this point in my faith journey, but it does. It really does. Sigh!
