Amy Kalscheur from Indiana

My husband and I have eight children, six of whom are daughters. Our oldest daughter is 19, and the thought of raising strong daughters never entered our minds until recently. Strength is not a virtue that we ever thought about instilling in our daughters—it was not the goal. However, we have recently taken a closer look at our girls and can see that they are indeed strong.

We have taught our daughters life skills, learning at my side from the time they could walk. They have learned how to defend themselves physically, each being a black belt in Tae Kwon Do. We continue to teach them about our faith, and have equipped them to defend our Lord. We have taught them how to spend, save, and give money. They have learned how to speak in public. Each has learned a craft. They have been taught manners. They live lives immersed in the virtues, especially temperance and humility.

We have steadfastly pushed each one to surpass what they thought they were capable of, but they always knew that they were supported by us. We have given our children chances to succeed, chances to shine, chances to serve, and chances to demonstrate what they have learned. But even more importantly, we have provided a safe environment for our daughters to be hurt, to be bored, and even to fail.

When our oldest daughter was 10, we could see that she was intelligent. She was talented and had a natural flair for success. To whatever she put her hands, she excelled. However, after a time, we realized that she was beginning to turn down opportunities to try new things, to go to new places. My husband and I would urge her on, but she resisted, often saying that she didn’t want to try because she didn’t know how to do something. Finally, I decided that she needed a push. I pulled her aside and told her that she was going to participate in a particular activity. She, as I knew she would, resisted and said she was afraid that she would not know how to do it, that she would fail. I looked at her and said, “I want you to fail.” At the moment, it seemed rather harsh. It definitely took her by surprise—the mother who was always showing her the way to success, was telling her that she wanted her to fail. I let the words sink in for a while. I sat down with her and followed up by saying, “I know the way your mind works, and I know what is going to happen to you. I know what you are going to need to make you a better person. I want you to try. I don’t want you to think about succeeding. I want you to fail at something, to learn that you have to try to do things before you know if you can do them.”

That conversation was nearly 10 years ago. Today, my daughter has developed into a strong woman, who is willing to try new things. She has traveled overseas multiple times, and is about to graduate from college—at the top of her department. She is faithful, devoted, and kind. She has learned that failure is part of success. And her failures make her a stronger person.

No, we never thought about raising strong daughters. We continue to try to help our girls develop what God has already put inside them, to develop the virtue of fortitude with practice and habit. We do so with love and patience, and sometimes with fire.