Genuine, kind, and well-meaning people frequently say, "children are so resilient". Generally, I think this is meant to encourage me, because the weight of parenting grieving children while walking with your own grief is the second hardest thing I have ever been forced and privileged to do. Only recently did I pause to attempt to figure out why it is I bristle so much at those well-intended words.
In short, by saying children are resilient, it seems to attempt to minimize or soften the jagged edges and depths of their trauma and sorrow. It seems to project an expected end to the lasting nature of some sufferings, griefs, and traumas. For whose benefit? Surely not theirs; for how does this help them? No, I'm beginning to think it's for the benefit of the adult in their life caring for them as they walk with the added weight of grief's companionship. It is to reassure me, their mother, they will be okay. But we can't really do that, can we? We know none of us can know what comes in the span of the next few moments, much less tomorrow or next year or ten years from now.
A quick Google search will result in the Oxford Languages definition of resilience as "the capacity to withstand or to recover quickly from difficulties; toughness; the ability of a substance or object to spring back into shape; elasticity."
We seem to be sending mixed messages and contradicting ourselves. Toughness? We are constantly telling kids, "You don't have to be tough. It's okay to cry". Yet, we still say children are resilient. Is it any wonder we have adults and a society that attempts to mask suffering and isn't comfortable with displays of emotional pain and sorrows' tears? They are 'resilient' children all grown up.
"The capacity to withstand or to recover from difficulties." I think we often mistake children's coping mechanisms and God-given strengths as resilience in the face of grief and trauma. If resilience, this so-called ability to "recover quickly" is true then why all the study and information surrounding Adverse Child Events (ACEs)? The CDC has an entire page on the long-term effects of ACEs. The Cleveland Clinic's page on childhood trauma and ACEs opens with "ACEs can have a lasting impact on your health and well-being." Ironically, there is no mention of childhood resilience in these conversations. If children are resilient, why is it so many adults are seeking therapy or medications related to childhood trauma? Why do we not say, "adults are so resilient"? I think it's because we know better. (Note: I'm not advising against or criticizing therapy or medications. I'm grateful there are various means of help available.)
Thus, by saying children are resilient, are we minimizing the pain and permanence of some sufferings? It seems so unfair to place the heaviness of such a load on their little shoulders. They should not be expected to feel or carry sorrow to a lesser degree or for a lesser time than adults. Some trauma, some grief you carry for a lifetime. Let's give them that. They are not "elastic".
I realize the inanimate definition "the ability of a substance or object to spring back into shape; elasticity" technically pertains to things, not people, but isn't that sort of what we are implying when we say things like "they'll bounce back, they are resilient."? No. I cannot accept that. My children are resilient to things such as a sibling breaking their Lego creation, not getting picked for a particular sport team, or falling down and scraping their knee. I will never be the same person I was before my daughter died; neither will my children be the same people they were before their sister died.
Is resilience what I want for my children? No. What I want is for the eradication of all sin, pain, death, and trauma that calls for supposed resilience. As a believer in Christ, I know that day is coming, but it is not here yet. So, no, my children are not resilient. They feel deeply and grieve heavily over the death of their sister. They will not "recover quickly" or bounce back from her absence. Who recovers from love? As long as they live and grow, they will bear the scars, never be the same, and always miss her and the moments she was supposed to share with them. Still, I want them to really live life, grow physically and spiritually, and flourish in the years they have in this life. What I want for them is FORTITUDE
Perhaps fortitude is actually what many well-meaning people mean when they say children are resilient. Another Google search will provide the following definition from Oxford Languages for fortitude: "strength of mind that enables a person to encounter danger or bear pain or adversity with courage." Legionaire.com defines biblical fortitude as "that strength to courageously endure adversity, which the Lord graciously supplies by His Spirit and through the promises of His Word."
"Bear the pain" versus "recover quickly" or "spring back". Do you see the difference? By acknowledging children have fortitude we acknowledge what they are bearing requires painful work, great strength, and exhausting endurance. We acknowledge something awful has happened. We do not minimize what they have been forced to carry; we leave room for permanent change instead of springing back to 'normal'. As believers we thus acknowledge the faithfulness of God in supplying the strength and courage needed to endure, not recover from, adversity or trauma. 
Fortitude is biblical. Job is an obvious example of fortitude, but so are Naomi, Moses, the disciples, Jesus, and many others. Deuteronomy 31:6 reads, "Be strong and courageous" (How? Why?) "for the Lord your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you." Joshua 1:9 states a similar message. Philippians 4:13 says "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me." This isn't some empowering, magical incantation to make hard things disappear or good things suddenly come into fruition. It's reassurance we will never be alone, nor be asked to be resilient in the face of "all things", hard things. In fact, on our own, we do not have the strength or courage- neither as children or adults- to bear the weight of sin, death, and sorrow.
Isn't that the message of the Gospel? We know the One who can, who has, and who promises never to leave or forsake us: to strengthen and uphold us when we walk through the valley of death and darkness or scale the mountains of adversity.
Resilience. We get the impression one either has it or they don't. For this mama's grieving heart this actually causes me some anxiety. What if one or more of my children do not "have it". So, I take a deep breath of fortitude. Biblical fortitude? Now that helps this mama's heart rest in the promises and faithfulness of God as I continue to surrender my surviving children to Him. It also gives me direction and purpose as I parent my children in the ugly face of trauma and death. I can press in and cry out, while teaching them to do the same. I (we) can acknowledge the permanent nature of, duration of, and results of suffering while seeking the courage and strength from the One who knows all, bears all, and gives graciously as we too bear the pain of adversity, trauma, death, and sorrow in this broken world.
I’ve kind of always hated that term of children being resilient also. Mostly because it’s never used in positive situations. It brings a feeling of dark depth. It always follows something so negative but is meant to portray positivity. Fortitude is much more suiting but I’ve never used it that I can remember. Thank you for the insight. I pray for smiles this week for you all. ❤️
ReplyDeleteWhat a great way of explaining your discomfort with the term. Thank you, friend.
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