Welcome back to Good Life, a newsletter about navigating our modern culture and staying sane in the process. This week, we discuss teenage defiance and when it’s appropriate to let them disobey you.
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I Let My Daughter Starve
Every year, our little Catholic school sends a contingent of students, teachers, and parents to the March for Life rally. It’s typically reserved for juniors and seniors, but students from other grades with older siblings often attend with their parents. Our oldest daughter has several friends from the freshman class going this year, and I could tell she really wanted to join.
“I just want to be there to support them,” she told me.
I felt bad because she had such a pure intention behind the desire to go. She has no idea how connected she is to the pro-life cause, which is a story for a different newsletter. Regardless, she was being called to go, but our schedule was too crazy for me to take her, so she stayed home. Instead, I suggested that she pray a rosary every day they are gone.
“Pray for your friends and all those who attend the rally that they’ll stay safe and that their peaceful witness will soften the hearts and minds of our nation,” I said.
That didn’t seem to satisfy the yearning she had to attend the march. I knew she’d come to me later with another idea on how to support their cause. And sure enough, after her basketball game Tuesday, she pulled me aside and asked me if she could go on a three-day fast. She wanted to start after dinner Tuesday night and end the fast with dinner on Friday, after the March for Life had ended.
My first instinct was to say, “absolutely not. You are a growing kid who has basketball practice and school every day.” There was no way I was going to let her deprive herself of the nutrients her body needed.
I said ‘no’ and figured that was that. She always listens to me when I put my foot down, and there is hardly ever any pushback when she knows I am being serious about something. She ate dinner Tuesday after the game, and everything seemed normal. However, when I walked back into the kitchen Wednesday after school drop-off, I noticed she hadn’t eaten breakfast. At first, I didn’t think anything of it. We were running late that morning, so maybe she just didn’t have time to eat her eggs.
But then, a couple of hours later, when I went to grab milk for my coffee, I noticed that her lunch was still in the fridge. All the evidence that she was ignoring my edict was staring me in the face. This is the first time since she was a toddler that I can remember her being openly defiant. I would have to wait all day to ask her about this, which was needed because my initial reaction was to be mad. “How could she disobey me like this? I told her ‘no,’ and that should have been enough to stop her.”
As the hours passed, my heart began to soften. She is a sweet and kind girl. She makes straight As. She never goes against my judgment. There has to be a good reason behind this.
After basketball practice, she jumped into the car. I could see she was tired. If you’ve ever done an extended fast like this, the first day is always the most difficult. Your brain is creating a million different scenarios on why you should break and take a bite. And I could see this struggle written all over her face.
“How are you doing? Tired?” I asked.
“Yeah, just a bit. We did a lot of running drills today,” she answered.
“Do you think it has anything to do with the fact that I saw your breakfast and lunch left untouched in the kitchen today?” I asked.
She looked at me sheepishly. She had been called out, but had to have known this was coming. But what she said next changed my entire perspective on her decision. She calmly began telling me stories about saints who had fasted for a better outcome. She talked about Mary Magdalene living as a hermit for 30 years after the crucifixion in a cave in the Sainte-Baume mountains of Southern France without earthly food. She ate only the Eucharist.
My daughter told me that she knew her friends would be outside in the frigid weather for hours, physically sacrificing for the innocent. She wanted to do something that would hopefully help aid their march.
The moment was so moving that I couldn’t deny her. She was embarking on a journey that was going to be rough. She’d have to refuse her desires and give up her suffering for those who would have to brave the winter weather. I gave her my blessing, but it was conditional. She couldn’t complain about being hungry. Instead, she would have to pray every time a thought like that came into her mind. And she would have to drink plenty of water and tea. I didn’t want her to get dehydrated on top of being hungry.
For three days, I watched as she quietly suffered. She sat at the dinner table with her tea while we ate. She helped make lunches, even though she knew she wouldn’t be eating them. The entire time I felt conflicted. Part of me knew I was witnessing something so beautiful and selfless from my teenage daughter, whose peers are typically focused on only themselves. But the other part of me longed to feed her. I wanted her to give up and eat so badly.
When Friday came around, and it was time to break the fast, I watched tears of joy slip down her cheeks. She was elated to finally eat. But it was more than that. She had done something incredible for others. Her work was not in vain. She was in triumph over the sacrifice.
I am so proud of her, and I am glad that she disobeyed me. She taught me about sacrifice. She showed a powerful example to her sisters. So, yes, I let my daughter starve, but in those three days, she was filled with grace, compassion, and love.
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