Once in a great while every parent needs to know that their children, no matter how independent or distant, have retained an inkling of the things that were so painstakingly taught them.  Such was my lucky experience in a conversation with our family’s third child, 18-year old, Elizabeth.

It was one of those evenings when social plans hinged on my answer to her request for an extended curfew and the company of a nice, but healthy young man.  Flashbacks of my own adolescence, coupled with the inborn fear that overtakes every parent of a teenage daughter when she leaves on a date, prompted me to respond instinctively with an unmistakable “No!”

Predictably, her response was as hasty as my decision, and anything but pleasant.  Accusations of “You don’t understand,” and “You don’t trust me,” saturated the already tense air. 

I was immediately sorry for having answered with the inflexibility of a dictator.  My own feelings were like old, partially healed wounds, torn wide open; memories of my own teen years came rushing back as though they were yesterday. With the sudden realization that our lives were joined by such a strong link, I concluded that this would definitely be the wrong time to close the doors of communication with my daughter.  So we talked…and we talked…and I learned.

During Elizabeth’s early years I had been diligent in my efforts to transmit the Catholic faith – not just to her, but also to my other children.  However, after the birth of our ninth child, it became necessary for me to take a part-time job.  In spite of my best intentions, my effectiveness as a religion teacher became diminished.  Before I knew it, my grade school children were young adults and I was left with a tremendous feeling of guilt. During the most critical formative years of their lives I was not there to give them the spiritual guidance that had been entrusted to me.   Somewhere between those elementary school days and her high school graduation, Elizabeth had been exposed to a variety of unwholesome mindsets and had undoubtedly developed her own unique view of life.

So that night as we talked, I cautiously approached the subject of sexuality and proper behavior on a date. I braced myself for her to tell me to mind my own business.  Instead, she looked me straight in the eye and asked, “Don’t you remember when I was little and you told me to say three “Hail Mary’s” for purity every night before I go to bed? I still do that, Mom.”

With tears in my eyes I hugged my beautiful daughter and thanked God for being such an important part of her life.

Elizabeth is now 21 and continues to inspire me with her supernatural outlook and courageous response to apostolic opportunities.