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Don’t Tell Mama

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Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · Nov 1, 1906

FromReview and Herald, Vol. 83, No. 44.

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“Don’t Tell Mama”

By Emma H. Snow

EMMA H. SNOW
We often hear it said that mothers should be the companions of their children. A closer comradeship than this is needed. The mother should be her child’s most intimate friend—its “chum,” even. Nothing should be permitted to interfere with their unreserved communication and confidences.
If the mother can not attend to her work and listen to the spontaneous outbursts of conversation with which her child enters the room on returning from play or from school, let her leave that work to be finished at some other time. Better a less tidy house, a less dainty wardrobe, than to restrict in the slightest degree the full relation to mother of all that has occurred during the day. Even the minutiae may have a deeper meaning than the casual listener would discover.
The ear, the eye, the heart of the mother should ever be on the alert. The entire future well-being of her child may be imperiled by careless inattention or the oft-heard remark, “There, there, child, I’m too busy to listen now.” The words thus heedlessly uttered may be repented of with heart-breaking sorrow through the years to come.
The close union that exists between mother and child before its birth, the fact that for it she suffers and endangers her own life, the intimate association during its infancy, all give the mother a special claim upon her child.
Shall she not, then, lay aside all that would interfere with its welfare, its spiritual even more than temporal good? Ofttimes this will necessitate self-denial, and the giving up of her own ways and pleasures, and needed hours of rest. But the question with the true mother is not, Can I spare time to listen to the outpourings of my child’s heart, trifling though they often seem? but, Can I afford to withhold one moment from it that will strengthen the tie that binds us together?
It is never too early to begin this mutual freedom in exchange of thought and words—never too late to continue it. Does not the little babe in its mother’s arms read, in the loving face bending over it, a sympathetic response to its grief and pain, its joy and happiness?
During infancy and childhood the brain cells are rapidly forming. Habits are then acquired which later become, in some natures, almost as adamant. Now is the time to shape the plastic mind into the mold in which we shall love to see it grow and develop. Now is the time to guide the little feet into the paths in which we shall joy to see them walk.
And a little word, lightly spoken, is often a beacon light to guide in this Heaven-appointed task.
A mother and her little daughter were visiting a neighbor one afternoon. The little girls at the house were asleep, and so the duty of entertaining the young visitor fell upon the six-year-old grandson. A fine time they had, swinging, playing ball, and trundling hoop.
Among his other kind attentions, the youthful host presented his guest with a piece of candy. This she at once brought to her mama, that she also might share in its enjoyment.
A little later, mother and daughter returned home. As the mother sat down in her sewing-chair, and took up the never-empty work-basket, a little red chair was drawn close by her side, and a rosy cheek pressed lovingly against her knee. There is nothing on earth that sends such a thrill of ecstatic happiness through every fiber of one’s being, as these infantile caresses.
Then they began to visit, in the easy, familiar way they always have of talking together. Though restraint may sometimes be felt in entertaining a casual visitor, between these two there is none.
In the course of their talk, the mother happened to ask, “What did Hubert say when he gave you the candy?” The little one naively replied: “He said he would give me the candy if I would kiss him two times and hibe [five] times and free times. And I did, and he kissed me.”
This was rather unexpected to the mother, but not really disturbing, especially as they were good friends. It gave her an opportunity, however, to explain that it is nicer and more proper for little girls not to kiss little boys, unless they are their brothers.
It was the words that followed that caused that mother’s heart to bound with alarm: “And he told me not to tell my mama.”
“Not to tell her what?”
“Not to tell my mama that he kissed me.”
“But didn’t you tell him that you always tell your mama everything?”
“But he said he wouldn’t give me one bit of candy if I did tell my mama.”
“My darling must always tell any one, whoever it is, that asks her not to tell her mama anything, that she always tells her mama everything.”
“Then Hubert wouldn’t give me any candy,” said the child, with tears in eyes and voice.
Was this a trifling circumstance? It was fraught with such grave import to this mother’s heart that she spent a night of wakefulness and of prayer.
Even our babes are not safe. The tempter’s voice comes from most unexpected quarters. He it is that plants the poisonous seed, “Don’t tell mama.” If dropped ever so carelessly into the life of a child, and not speedily eradicated, its noxious roots will spread deep and wide, and uproot all the loving confidences that have welled up spontaneously in that warm little heart.
This harm once done can never be undone. Though long withheld, its ultimate fruit is likely to be unhappiness and untold misery. And sometimes from the mother’s lips comes the agonizing cry, “O God, let this cup pass from me!”
Then let her value, as the pearl above every price, the unlimited confidence of her child. From her own experiences she may save its unwary feet from many a pitfall. And in after years she will have no cause to mourn, as does many a mother, that her sons and daughters never confide in her.
Her work is not one of ease, but in it she has divine aid and partnership. All heaven is interested.
The fond term, “My little children,” is frequently found in the Bible, applied to the followers of Jesus. And with his own divine-human lips he gently upbraided the too-solicitous disciples with the words, “Suffer little children to come unto me, and forbid them not: for of such is the kingdom of God.”
Takoma Park, D. C.