Old habits die hard. Especially for parents and children.

I have talked for a long time about learning to play the violin so I can accompany our worship band at church. It was somewhat of a dream, and I had never taken a step to act on it. Last month my wife and children blew me away by giving me a violin for my 60th birthday.

I learned a while ago that with the right kind of effort you can learn just about anything. I feel pretty confident that I can get reasonably proficient, even if I never get really good. I found an online platform to take self-guided lessons, and I’ve been practicing pretty diligently for the last six weeks.

Last weekend two of our children were over for dinner. I thought it would be nice to play a few tunes to show them my progress. My 97-year-old mother, who lives with us, was also there. She played violin from middle school through college. I had asked her if she wanted to try playing mine, but she has, thus far, declined.

I played the first tune and missed a few notes, which did not surprise or deter me. My mom said, “You know, with a violin you don’t know exactly where to put your fingers, so you have to have a good ear, or it won’t sound right. You have a good ear. Try it again.”

We all laughed pretty hard at this, especially my children. They’re not used to seeing their father being treated like a child. I think it was fun for them.

This was an opportunity to engage in a conflict of wills. If you follow my work, you know that’s not a good thing. I could have gotten defensive.

“I’ve only been playing for five weeks give me a break!”

“Can’t you just praise me for the progress I’ve made instead of criticizing me?!”

“If you know so much why don’t you do it yourself?”

These are neither mature nor are they helpful. They would escalate the anxiety and possibly precipitate an argument.

On the other hand if I just agreed with her without standing up for myself that would be adaptive behavior. This was my “go to” back in my growing up years. Most times I just did what she said, perhaps with a little resentment. Or I just nodded my head and ignored her. Neither was healthy.

Over the years I have learned how to take non-anxious emotional stands with my mother. I feel like our relationship is better because of it. In this situation, I didn’t feel like this was the time to do that. I could’ve said, “Thanks for your feedback mom. I appreciate your guidance but I’m being patient with myself because I’m still learning.”

But I also realized that my mom is going through some major changes in her life. Perhaps this was one way she could hold onto some of who she is. Prior to a year ago she had been living in a retirement community. Since the pandemic began, she has been living alternately with us and my sister. We’ve put her unit up for sale and she’s not going back. All change is loss. When you lose your home, in some ways you lose your identity.

So I decided to pick my battles. This was not a big deal. I just nodded my head, and I did it again. This time I didn’t miss any notes.

She smiled and said, “That was better.”

My children laughed even harder.

My takeaway from this is just because you can take a non-anxious emotional stand, doesn’t mean you have to. Sometimes it’s alright to give in. Just make sure you take responsibility for your decision and own it. If you give in but you are resentful then you’re not self-differentiating. In this case I realized that the compassionate thing to do for her was to play the tune again.

There is a constant tension in life between togetherness and individuality. There’s a lot more gray than black and white. So pick your battles. In this case I chose togetherness, and that’s just fine with me.