Winning and Holding the Confidence of the Children
By L. D. Avery-Stuttle
By Mrs. L. D. Avery-Stuttle
DID you ever notice how easy it is to win the confidence of little children? A single smile will do it; a kind word is enough; a warm pressure of the soft hand,— and —“presto!” the deed is done; the heart’s citadel is taken, and its tiny owner is ready to surrender.
It is quite out of the question for perfect love to exist in the heart of either children or grown people, without perfect confidence.
“Well,” some one asks, “what does a child know about confidence?”—Children often understand much more than they are credited with, and at a much earlier age. As soon as a child comprehends the words you speak to him, just so soon he understands whether he can depend upon you to keep your promise to him or not.
Nothing will answer in dealing with children but perfect truthfulness. How can a mother who has little regard for her own word or her own promises, expect her child to be truthful or trustworthy? When a promise has once been given to a child, it ought to be held as sacred as if it had been made to the President. No matter how apparently inconsequential, a failure to keep one’s promise even to a child, without good reason, is a serious thing. It will never do to conclude that TRUTH is a small matter under any circumstances. Perfect truth and perfect reliability are mighty factors in winning and holding the confidence of children.
“But,” somebody protests, “a promise made to a child seems such a little thing.”
Over in Montana, at a place called “The Divide,” there is a stone no larger than a man’s hat, which has actually divided a river, so that one part finally flows into the Atlantic by way of the Missouri, while the other part finds its way into the Pacific. A little thing, indeed, a small, ordinary-looking stone, but it is large enough to divide a river and place a mighty continent between.
A broken promise, a slight deceit, a small prevarication—little things, perhaps, all of them; but any one of them may be large enough to divide loving hearts, and to snap asunder the closest ties.
EUNICE AND TIMOTHY
Timothy is an example of the power of home training. Paul recognized that much of Timothy's efficiency as a worker was due to the Bible training he had received from his mother and grandmother. Read Paul's words in 2 Tim. 1:5; 3:15.
True love, perfect affection without perfect confidence?—Never.
“But having already gained the confidence of the child, how are we to keep it?”—In the same manner. A confidence which is never betrayed is never misplaced.
“But,” said an unhappy mother mournfully, “I could always manage my boys and girls when they were real little,—but now they seem to have outgrown me. Really, I don’t know what the trouble is, but they ignore me entirely, now that they have grown large enough to help themselves a little. While they were quite dependent upon me, they would scarcely leave my side. In fact when my Jimmie was a little fellow not more than five years old, he would even leave his play to come in to get a kiss from me. He used to do it so often that I actually got tired of it; so I scolded him just a little for his nonsense; but even that didn’t break him; so I tried ridicule. I just laughed at him and called him a silly baby,—and that broke him.”
“Yes, my friend, and I dare say he stays ‘broke.’”
“Yes, yes; and I must say I do worry just a little about Jimmie; he’s only fourteen,— a mere child yet, but, will you believe me, he seems to think it unmanly to pay any attention to me. If I say, ‘Jimmie, I’d do this or that,’ he is sure to do the exact opposite. He’s so different from what he used to be. And as I told you, he was once such an affectionate child, but now I can’t induce him even to kiss me good night; I feel really bad about it sometimes, really lonely,” and the poor mother turned sadly away.
Indeed she is to be pitied. But what about the lad? The mother says she is lonely. But who can tell of the heart-hunger and unsatisfied longings of the little child who, when a mere babe, was driven from the arms of his unwise mother by her cruel ridicule? I had almost called her an “unnatural” mother; but undoubtedly she loves her child or she would not be grieving to-day over his cold-heartedness. So I merely say that she was unwise, wofully unwise. She had no time “to bother” with her boy when his baby heart craved attention and love; but now she has ample time to grieve over the effects of her own folly.
By the way, there is nothing which will so quickly influence most children for evil15as ridicule. Just laugh at them a little, and the mischief is done. Some children will deceive, prevaricate, or even tell deliberate falsehoods to avoid ridicule. And children are not the only ones, I am sorry to say, that meet most shameful defeat at the hands of this ungenerous and ungallant foe. Even Peter, the rock, the impulsive, the aggressive, the bold, the warlike Peter; he who quailed not in the face of an angry, furious mob; he whose ready sword dripped with the blood of one of the sleuths who was hunting his beloved Master, even Peter, the stout-hearted, shook and turned white before the outstretched finger of a simple maid. And ridicule is the cruel weapon which Satan has been using ever since the days of Peter—and long before—to the moral undoing of many a poor, irresolute soul. And in my opinion it will be responsible for the eternal loss of more men and women and children than persecution or prison or sword.
But to the point: To be able to win and to hold the confidence of little children is a great attainment, and yet it is the easiest thing in the world. How can it be a great attainment and yet an easy thing?—because children are natural detectives. They are quick to read hearts. They are keen observers. They can tell veneer from the real thing. They notice even the shadow of a frown, or the faintest twinkle of an eye. Did you never notice the quick, keen look they will give a stranger before they will confide their childish troubles to him?
O it is beautiful to win the unsullied love, the sweet confidence of innocent childhood. But how sad to lose it! Absolute integrity, absolute truthfulness, unselfish love,—without these virtues of heart and soul, the most cunning diplomacy must eventually fail.
