Assuming Positive Intent

Around Mother's Day, my family took me to the local nursery and let me buy an abundance of bedding flowers. The kids brought me breakfast in bed, and my husband Patrick made brunch, complete with homemade chocolate croissants and crab soufflé.

My youngest, Julia, brought me several cards she'd made in different venues: home, Sunday school, and the fourth grade. Sophie, my eldest, created an elaborate many-lined poem, mostly rhyming. She included several coupons for chores around the house, promised to be completed with joy.

Time went by.

Aidan, my son, was in his room rummaging around. Finally, he came down and handed me a torn piece of notebook paper: his card. It said, "I love you, Mom. Happy Mother's Day."

Patrick said, "Aidan, you could've taken more time on that."

"But Dad," Aidan said, "that's what I want to say. I can't help it if I can't make long, involved cards."

I'm sure I looked disappointed. Even so, I thanked Aidan, gave him a hug, and we went on our day. Still, I wondered why he'd thoughtlessly scratched out a 30-second card. I got my answer a week later, driving Sophie home.

"Mom," Sophie said, "I need to tell you something."

"Yes, honey?"

"I don't know if Aidan would want me to tell you this, but I think it's important."

"What's that?"

"You remember his card on Mother's Day?"

"Yes, I remember." I pictured the penciled card, ripped in two, words scribbled hastily.

"Well, that's not what he wanted to give you. He won a free massage for you at that food carnival we went to. He looked high and low for it in his room. I even helped him. He realized he couldn't come to you empty-handed, so he wrote that card really fast. But what he really wanted to give you was a certificate for a massage. When he won it, he was so excited."

My heart gave way a bit inside. My dear son, whose love language was gifts, must've been heartbroken. I could picture him receiving the gift certificate, cataloging how long it would be until Mother's Day came around. Then I could see him searching for the elusive certificate. How crushed he must've been. I was immediately thankful that we didn't tease him too much about the card.

Aidan's card reminded me of something I learned about relationships from a counselor. Good family relationships are ones where each member assumes positive intent. Assuming positive intent is a relational term that means we don't automatically jump to negative conclusions about the people in our lives. We give them the benefit of the doubt, even when the evidence might point otherwise.

Assuming positive intent folds nicely into 1 Corinthians 13:7 that says, Love "bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things . . ." As parents, we bear our children's sorrows, joys, foibles, victories, and needs. We believe God is big enough to shoulder each child's worries. And we hope. We hope for the best, asking God to give us a mindset of wild and playful grace, that when our children disappoint us, we'll still be standing nearby, open-armed.

Assuming positive intent reveals the health of our relationships with our kids. Hoping all things, we make a choice not to jump to conclusions prematurely. We'll believe our children are capable of beauty. We'll ask questions to clarify when we're confused by our children's behavior. We'll hope for the best.

Because, the truth is, our kids often astound us with their love, whether it be an over-the-top massage gift certificate or a humbly made card.