Rich and I were gifted two very different children. I used to hate this. It has made me cry and feel incompetent or completely at a loss most days as we navigated the road to do what “was best” or “would work” for two boys who function in completely different worlds.
I have read all of the mommy-blogs, the articles of how-to’s, and talked with more doctors than I care to admit. Not to mention school counselors and a “student success team”. Bless them. And while I have been pulling my hair out and getting the dirtiest of looks, the oddest thing started happening. Over the past few years I have come out of my storm shelter to actually appreciating their uniqueness.
Actually, that is the wrong word. I don’t just appreciate it, I have come to celebrate it.
I celebrate How they were created (intentionally). I love that our boys are their own people.
But it has taken a lot to get there.
I have been pretty honest with our struggles before with our youngest Jacob who is extremely passionate, a great self-advocate, and incredibly visionary (aka all the nice things people say about “strong willed” or what some who don’t even try deem “hard” children). There have been moments, many many many moments, where I would scratch my head… because… what. in. the. actual. world.
What kid thinks at three years old of getting up throughout the night to go on the hunt for chewing gum –unlocking locked doors with a butter knife that he grabbed out of the child proofed drawer, climbing into my car that was parked inside of our garage (thank God it wasn’t outside), and finding instead perfectly good lipsticks that he used as coloring crayons on our (albeit well-loved) cream couch set? Our kid. Our kid did that.
And I would love to say that this was the only stunt that he ever pulled or that it was the worst, but no. Our Jake could pick a lock quicker than AAA and find me in any hiding spot while I tried to gather any sibilance of composure that I could muster. In record time mind you. So it goes without saying that if my own house was an entire circus parade, there was no way that I was taking the show on the road.
Until more important things started happening and I had to make a choice, that is.
Around two years ago our eldest made one of the biggest decisions of his life by saying that he wanted to be baptized on a Sunday morning - during the time his cousin would also be in town whom had also decided to be baptized. It would be a family affair and I loved everything about it. I was beaming with joy that he decided it was something that he wanted as we gave the boys a “minimum age requirement” to really think it over and make sure that it was their decision.
The day finally came and I could tell the moment that Jake woke up that he was going to be a handful. It is always a dead giveaway when he wakes up with bags under his eyes from not sleeping well knowing that there will be more tantrums and obstinance than if he would have gotten a full night of rest. Most times I can sneak a nap in and reset his attitude/behavior but this was a Sunday and there was no time or place for napping. Especially with two parents as pastors as Rich was preaching in our large service and I was heading up the kids.
So we trudged ahead.
The entire morning I had told myself that I would have to miss Michael being baptized because Jake “wanted to do it too” and couldn’t stand being in the same room as him watching it all unfold without him. In fact, I was sure there would be a scene if I stayed. I choked back tears thinking that I would only get to see in pictures such an important moment in my son’s life because I had to do what was best for the other. So I thought of course.
Midway through service (and my personal pity party) God gently nudged at my heart to stop missing out. Stop excusing myself from life because others might judge my son or think less of me as a parent or we might cause a scene. Stop missing out and just show up.
That momentary feeling of embarrassment or shame would pass but allowing it to be my excuse for missing out on an important moment would stay with me forever.
(momentary feelings < important moments)
That was it. No more excuses. I was going.
And not just me, we ALL were going because I found my sassy pants and there was no stopping me (I have no idea where Jake gets it).
I told the kid’s class that day that a few of our friends were getting baptized and it would be our honor to sit in the back of the church and cheer them on. They celebrated and jumped up in joy. Most of them anyway. It didn’t take long for one voice to peak above the rest as Jake yelled and cried and said “not me”. I steadied my feet, looked him square in the eye, and said “not today”. I told him how important it was as a brother to be there. I told him how celebrating others was integral to being a good friend. And I told them that despite our own sadness, we could teach ourselves to be happy for Michael. If even for this one special moment.
And then I carried him, leading the class behind us into the sanctuary, and held him throughout the entire service on my hip. He never did stop crying. And yes, a few people turned around and gave me “those” looks. But I saw Michael go into the water that day. I saw it. And when he came back up I cried happy tears.
I didn’t miss it.
I think of that moment from time to time (and not just when Jake is having a hard day which is significantly less and less now).
I think of all of the things that I allowed myself and our family to miss out on because of my assumptions or excuses or feelings.
I think of how sometimes I am the parent who is afraid of other’s opinions, not understanding some significant part of my life. And I think of how sometimes I am acting more like Jake, allowing my own failures or feelings to taint my ability to show up for others.
I do think we should focus on our own emotional health and set boundaries that help us, but that isn’t what this was. This was someone who just needed us to show up and we did it.
With our feelings, with our frustrations, with our own comparative let downs. But we showed up.
And that is when I learned what it meant to be a good friend through all of the tough stuff.
Something I am still telling myself as grief whispers to me each morning to sleep all day and let the world pass me by. That no one will care if I call in sick or skip out on yet another planned outing. That I would be justified (not that we don’t need that from time to time). But then acknowledging that I would also be missing out on a whole slew of planned and even unplanned monumentous moments. The kind you can’t capture in words or in beautifully crafted pictures. The ones where you say, “you just had to be there.” Because you did.
It isn’t just our friendships that are missing out when we reason away our not being there. We would be missing out. And that was just it.
The best kept secret for having a more fulfilled and connected life:
Showing up.
So that’s what we did.
And just in case you need the reminder on how fickle feelings can be, look no further than this one minute in time. The one where I almost called off the snow day but decided instead to wait until someone’s feelings got on board… or forge ahead even if they didn’t… we all showed up anyway.
