intramuralist ™

I was struck by a conversation I had with my youngest son the other night.  Sadly, young Joshua had a classmate pass away a few somber weeks ago.  Liam was a year older, only 13.  I can’t imagine.  It makes me think of that song where the young gal soberly sings, “To think that providence would take a child from his mother while she prays… is appalling.”  It makes little sense… so hard to understand.  This week Josh and I were speaking of where Liam may be now and what life might be like.  The reality is — with each of our budding adolescents — that we can’t always control the questions that come.  That’s a good thing…

I shared with Josh that I was fairly certain Liam was now free from his once ever-present wheelchair.  Josh’s face lit up — thinking of his friend now running so wistfully and free.  Josh beamed, and we laughed and smiled and thought of all Liam could do now that previously confined him on this planet.  Those special needs kids are special people.  Thinking I was on a celebratory roll, I said to Josh, “Just think… when you get to heaven, you won’t have Down syndrome any more!”

Josh’s joy immediately changed to a subtle scowl.

Realizing I may have been somewhat ambiguous in my parental encouragement, I attempted to re-address the situation and the ceasing of Josh’s joy.  After all, at 12 years old, Josh is aware he has Down’s (just like he’s right-handed and has blonde hair) but it has never seemed significant to him (just like being right-handed and having blonde hair).

“You don’t care that you have Down syndrome, do you?” I humbly but directly asked.

No response.  My affirming attempts were failing fast…

“Josh, I’ve never seen you care about having Down syndrome.  Do you care?”

At that point, my delightful young son looked me straight in the eye and said loudly, “I do care!”

I was a little surprised.  It has never seemed to bother him before.  There are approximately 400,000 Americans with Down syndrome, and Josh has always embraced this delightful community.  But before I could quickly offer any seemingly intelligent articulation behind my thoughts, my wise young son spoke again, “I do care.  I like it!  I like the way God made me.”

Once again this young man who has taught me more than any encyclopedia or advanced college class ever could, put life in perspective…

So many of us when experiencing perceived misfortune, focus on that perception; we focus on the misfortune — on the negative — on how we are different in ways that appear to many to be bad.  We begin to think of ourselves as “victims,” focusing on what we don’t have as opposed to what we do.  We then may become quickly paralyzed in that mindset, allowing our victim status to prompt additional unhealthy responses, such as bitterness, judgment, or feelings of entitlement.

One of the zillion things I appreciate about Josh is how he doesn’t see his disability as a negative.  He has never allowed what the world views as misfortune to negate the joy nor purpose of his life.  I’d like to tell you that such is also the result of incredible, humble, parental encouragement.

Well, maybe… maybe a little… It’s actually the way God made him.

Respectfully…

AR

I was in a meeting when the call came.  I recognized the number immediately.  I excused myself, found a quiet room, and then answered the principal’s call.  One of my sons had behaved inappropriately at school; a brief suspension would be his consequence.

Now prior to arriving at the main point of today’s post — which has little to do with adolescents acting out — let me add a few relevant caveats.  One, the improper behavior is atypical of my son.  And two, the behavior would be improper by any who engaged in it.

When the call critical of my child came, I had to choose how to respond.  Do I ignore? … deny? … attack back?

Let’s face it; the news was negative.  My son needed to be disciplined. No one enjoys hearing unfavorable words about their own flesh and blood — about someone or something so near and dear to their heart — about something of which we are deeply passionate.  It’s possible that I could have disagreed with either the assessment of behavior or the apt consequences.  It’s then equally possible that I would have allowed myself to entertain the idea that perhaps someone else motivated my son’s poor choice — that someone else may thus bear the blame.

Such has caused me to wonder how as adults we handle similar situations…

Someone shares negative news or opinion about something near and dear to our adult hearts… about a person, policy, or passion.  And instead of prudently weighing the wisdom within the words and considering the opinion — wisely discerning any truth within the perspective shared — we often ignore, deny, or (seemingly typically) attack back.

Someone calls us a name, so we call them something else.  Someone hurts us, so we justify hurting them back.  Someone disagrees with us, so we pressure them into silence.  Someone wrongs us, so we work for their firing.  Someone shares a perspective critical of what we believe in, and so instead of weighing the wisdom within the words, we only hear criticism.  We thus justify attacking back.  Granted, we use bigger words than on the middle school playground.  I am, however, again reminded that intelligence and wisdom are not synonymous.  The adult who fights back first is no wiser no matter his or her utilized syllable count.

When I responded to the school administration, my first response was to thank them for calling.  As much as I may not like what they had to say, I want to know what they believe and why.  I want them to transparently share their perspective.  I then affirmed their perspective.  They were there; I was not.  Their perspective is valid.  And third, I acknowledged that we’re on the same team — we all want the same thing — which is for my son to mature wisely and thus curb any negative behavior.  I shared that I would reinforce the consequences at home.

Friends, my sense is that sometimes we become more focused on the consequences than on curbing the behavior.  We spend so much time and energy fighting for our passions, that we rarely weigh the validity within a perspective that seems critical of our passions.

Thank God for those who care enough about our children to invest in them — investing in them via education, encouragement, challenge, and discipline.  Yes, it is only a loving adult who disciplines the child, even though no discipline seems pleasant at the time.  We thus should always weigh the wisdom in another’s words.

Respectfully…

AR