On the same day I heard from a woman about her non-existent relationship with her teenage son, my daughter created a wave erosion project for middle school science class.

She did it all by herself except for cutting the foam with a sharp kitchen knife. We huddled together on the floor the garage as I chipped away at the dense foam.

“Just a little more, Mama,” she directed.

Chip

Chip

Chip

I chipped away at the structure so it would appear battered and beat down by waves so powerful they altered the form forever.

But he has bad breath, so I tell him.

But he needs to shower. Is that so wrong to point it out?

But he never remembers to do what he’s supposed to so I nag.

Chip

Chip

Chip

I did not personally know the woman who was reaching out to me in desperation, but I knew exactly where she was coming from. I could hear the corrections in my mind as if they were my own. From personal experience, I knew her intentions were good—perhaps thinking her commentary would help her son fit in or become more responsible. But not only were the corrections ineffective, they were also driving the teen away from a mother who loved him dearly. That’s where they were now—far apart. The mother wanted to know if she could bridge the gap between them after years of chipping away his spirit.

I did not know, but the fact that she was asking … searching … taking a difficult look inward made me hopeful.

I joined my child as she put the final touches on her project. Her capable hands knew exactly how she wanted to apply the sand and paint. When a little sand spilled on the floor, she didn’t look up from her task. “I am going to clean it all up at the end,” she told me as she kept working.

There was no bracing for impact, no look of fear, no “I know what’s coming” expression on my child's face. I exhaled.

Yes, there was hope.

I stopped chipping away four years ago when my constant correcting turned into lip picking on my child’s upper lip and defeat took permanent residence in her eyes. My once happy child who was willing to share her creative ideas and take risks, became sad, anxious, and withdrawn.

My corrections, sometimes spoken, sometimes huffed in annoyance, and sometimes yelled in frustration, were altering her form. She was not the same as she used to be.

But it was her closed bedroom door that woke me up.

I remember reaching for the handle one day and all the red flags rose at once.

My child would rather be alone than with me.

After all, who wants to spend time with someone who can never be pleased … who dictates everything … who never sees your good, only where you’re falling short?

With tears in my eyes I acknowledged I must make changes if I didn’t want to be standing on the other side of this door until my child left home and would be gone for good.

I prayed for the strength to step back and let her do for herself without judgment, commentary, or criticism from me. I prayed for the ability to notice the things she was doing right instead what I perceived to be “wrong”. And finally, I prayed for the wisdom to consider there might be times when her “mistakes” didn't need to be mentioned at all. After all, she was a child who was learning and growing; there needed to be room to try, falter, and try again without a critic standing over her shoulder.

The phrase, “Only Love Today” became my mantra. It was my starting point towards seeing the positives and my stopping point of voicing the problems. Over the past several years, Only Love Today has helped me say and do five connection-building strategies with my daughter I never thought I be able to do. And with them, there is great hope …

Four years ago, if there was an issue with my daughter, I would have demanded we discuss it right then and there, even if I wasn’t calm, even when I knew I would say things I’d regret.

Chip away

Chip away

Now if there is an issue that needs addressed, I wait until tensions are not running high. Besides when we’re upset, I’ve learned that early morning and directly afterschool are not good times to talk to her. At those times, she is often tired and sullen. But in the evening, right after swim team practice, she is open and talkative. We use car time or bedtime to discuss tough issues. I try to speak in the manner I wish to be spoken to: calmly and respectfully. I often use my colleague Sandy Blackard’s empowering question when my daughter has an area that needs improvement: “Hmm … there must be something we can do about this. What do you think we should do?”

Bridge the gap

Bridge the gap

Four years ago, when my child was in a bad mood, agitated over not being able to find a sweater or something that seemed insignificant to me, I would have matched her foul mood or agitatedly dismissed her feelings by telling her it was nothing to get upset about.

Drive a wedge

Drive a wedge

Now I try to say, “You seem upset. How can I help?” This response brings down the defenses, validates her feelings, and puts us on the same team working toward a common goal.

Bridge the gap

Bridge the gap

Four year ago, if my child was eating something unhealthy I might have inadvertently shamed her by saying, “Do you think you should you be eating that? It has so many calories.”

Chip away

Chip away

Now I convey the choices I’d like her to make by using actions rather than words. I model healthy eating habits, have nutritious foods on hand, and invite her to do physical activity with me so she is aware of what builds strong bodies. Sometimes she chooses foods for herself that I would not choose for her. But because I want her to be a capable and independent thinking teen and adult, I hold my tongue and let her make her own choices. As a result, she’s learning for herself what foods make her feel badly and how a little is better than a lot when it comes to certain treats.

Bridge the gap

Bridge the gap

Four years ago, I harped on her about her messy room and messy ways until I blew up.

Drive a wedge

Drive a wedge

Now I use Sandy Blackard’s positive approach of saying what I see: “Your clean clothes are on the floor,” instead of, “Pick those up.” This way, my daughter is the one who comes up with the solution. From Sandy, I’ve learned the power in leaving out all suggestions unless I know my suggestions will feel like help to my child. My daughter knows what is expected of her (she has a list) and that the fun things she likes to do cannot be enjoyed until her family contributions, like cleaning her room, are complete. Because her family contributions (adopted from Amy McCready’s terrific book) no longer need to be completed on my timetable, there are fewer battles.

Four years ago, I would have overreacted in response to a low grade or a poor choice.

Drive a wedge

Drive a wedge

Now my child checks her grades online and shows me where she would like to improve or where she is struggling. She takes responsibility for speaking to her teachers about improving her grades rather than me doing it for her. When I am tempted to take over something she can do for herself, I simply imagine her in her apartment or dorm room as a young adult effectively problem solving for herself. This image motivates me to step back and let her lead.

Bridge the gap

Bridge the gap

Until one day you look up and see the person you love

is not so far away anymore.

Criticism separates, but validation connects.

My daughter and I watch a suspenseful teen drama series together several nights a week. When the show gets a little scary, she reaches out from her place at the end of the couch. Without saying a word or even looking my way, I know I’m supposed to grab her hand and hold it.

From my spot on the couch and her spot on the chair, we bridge the gap between us.

And when the scary part is over, she takes her hand away, and I study her. I see the way her ponytail drapes over the pillow and the beautifully unique and interesting person she is becoming.

I have shaped her.

She has been shaped by the waves of criticism that crashed on her small, but sturdy shoulders. But with the loving light of validation—no judging, no fixing, no correcting, no controlling—she has also been shaped. But that is not all. Through the loving light of validation, we find our way to each other.

Because when you love someone “as is”, it bridges the gap and offers hope.

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Friends of The Hands Free Revolution, if this post inspires you to build a more positive relationship with your child or someone you love, please consider my latest work of heart as a gift to yourself or a loved one this holiday season. ONLY LOVE TODAY was designed for people with busy lives. You can literally open the book to any page and find stories and intentions that will change the way you respond to yourself and the people you love. Readers are experiencing major shifts in their hearts and homes as a result of reading this book daily. I recently received just this beautiful story:

“My teenage daughter came to me the other night fresh out of the shower and told me how stressed and overwhelmed she was about a problem that I didn't think was that big of a deal. My gut reaction usually would have been to tell her exactly that, give her a quick kiss and move on to the next task — instead I remembered ONLY LOVE TODAY and took a 3 second pause, looked my daughter in her eyes, and said, “How can I help?” My daughter's eyes immediately filled with tears and she took a big breath and just sagged into my arms. She cried and told me all the things that were upsetting her and I just listened and nodded and loved her. When she was done speaking, she hugged me and told me how much she loved me and thanked me for listening. What could have been a quick, meaningless interaction or trivializing my daughter's problems and hurting her feelings was a beautiful moment we shared together where we both left feeling better than before.”

The ONLY LOVE TODAY mantra that was the most influential piece of my transformation from bully to encourager is inscribed on a gorgeous bracelet to use as visual reminder. There are leather and non-leather options in brown, lavender, navy blue and orange available, as well as metal cuffs. Thank you for your support of my work. I am incredibly grateful.