How not to be Stubborn

 All the parenting books and online articles suggest that girls, age five weeks, do not have enough self-awareness to exhibit stubbornness. But this week I heard a new sound come out of my daughter. It was high-pitched and it sounded suspiciously like a determined scream. “No mama. I must have food now. Now. Now.” or “I can’t believe you are not picking me up immediately.” Felicity tended towards a soporific haze for her first couple weeks, so hearing that first yelp was a surprise. My docile infant has a voice.

This afternoon my mom told me that I’m stubborn. It’s a reoccurring family descriptor. Of course my rejoinder is, “I’m not stubborn. I just have strong convictions.” A truth I stubbornly hold, because like many people, I repurpose my faults into words connoting virtue. Nobody likes a stubborn person, but everybody admires a person of strong conviction.

I want to be a river—a metaphor that shows a partial picture—mobile and fluid like water, but going in a straight course. I want to be a person who listens and yields to truth, and yet is unbending for what is right—a hard balance. To learn it, I need to remember that now, “we see in part.” I find few circumstance warrant my stubborn dug in heels. Someday those little yelps from my daughter will need to be guided towards humility. Her little heels will have to be prodded in the direction of learning. If I am to do that I must pray and practice humility and even now listen and be willing to learn.

As I gaze at my little girl, sleeping peacefully, with one arm thrown behind her head it’s hard to imagine the growing self-will contained in such a perfect little person. I imagine though someday Felicity and I will also re-intact the same conversation I had with my mom. I’ll tell her, "You are stubborn.” She’ll tell me, “I have convictions,” and by grace we will both learn.