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9 de Febrero 2009
about us.
when i taught the kids about confession i told them
confession happens when we tell the truth.
i drew a diagram, well, several really just yesterday morning in sparkly red gel pen ink, on a cocktail napkin.
they are pie graphs.
they are divided into large portions and tiny slivers according to how much her opinion really matters, which is as much to say, how much her truth takes over wherever it fails to match up with what you know to be true about yourself, how much power you give her truth.
in the first circle her opinion is huge, yours is just a tiny slice, only a thin line toward the center of the circle.
in the next the circle is divided right in half but her opinion isn't there: it is just you and God alone in the opinion ring.
in the last circle your opinion is huge and hers is tiny--just the reverse of the first.
that first one is called too heavy because you have asked her to decide how much you matter, and abandoned her to her opinion about you, you disappear.
the third is called disrespect because you have somehow managed to nearly dismiss her altogether, not totally excused her from dealing with the mess, but not given her opinion any consequence at all.
the second is called feeling lonely because you can't see her at all, and really it is funny that your opinion seems to be at war with God's rather than at war with hers and you seem all alone over there on your half, as if your opinion doesn't have any room for God's opinion of you. And neither of you seems to know what is really going on... or have any real power over the situation.
the only reason i know to draw it out like this is because i have this little problem with fielding compliments.
i never know what they mean, how much they mean or what to do about them. I never know if they are true because I am unwilling to give them any chance when they seem to contradict how I feel or what I know about myself.
i smile and say thank you because i am grateful for the confession, for someone taking the time to tell the truth, and tell it to me. i figure that they really believe what they are saying and so it must be the truth--even if they are saying something nice about me.
but what if i disagree? what if i think i didn't do such a great job or worse
what if i agree that something about me is helpful or maybe that
i am talented or special or worth their while?
then i have to argue with my past.
i look back at the scene of a little girl and her stepfather, him jostling for authority, her, assured that he is afraid of something but not sure what.
and i tell both of them: one of you is more powerful, who's it going to be today?
i want them to figure it out between them and give me a call when they decide. i want so badly for him to man up, be strong, kind and take charge of the situation. even gently cajole her into trusting him just this one more time. Not that that would be good for either of us today, but for some reason that is what I want him to do now because that is what I wanted him to do then. i want him to smile kindly and mean it and tell her that she needn't worry, he will take care of everything.
but i am more sure that when i turn my back he will slap her or worse threaten to, though he never would, just to keep her afraid he might one day if she crosses the line, yell at her, tell her she had better behave herself because he knows what she did.
(Sometimes I think it would have been better if he had let fly with his calloused hand because being afraid of the back of his hand, assuming I wouldn't survive it, wondering if it would be worse than anything else I could have ever imagined or experienced, is more terrifying than the thought of him raging, stiking out and just getting it over with. I think the tension, the wondering and fear was worse than the event would have been.)
whatever. right? i mean, he never laid a hand on her, he never knew he was hurting her. he did the best he could; he had been treated far worse.
i'm not sure where i learned how to treat a child, how to care for one or hope for one but my intuition tells me i don't dare turn my back, leave the two of them alone together.
here is what i want to say to him:
you really ought to leave it alone. she is smaller, fragile, but she is a strong little girl and she will survive you and your broken down power play. make no mistake, the one thing you did wrong was the most important thing--there is no minimizing or justifying your behavior. if you really want to win this fight you are going to have to realize how precious this little girl is, how much hope she bears, how her future will determine yours. you will have to face her independence from you and the fact that you have no right to speak one word to her, no right to make a face at her or even look in her direction until you learn that she is and always will be more than you: more important, more beautiful, she will have more potential and more love. until your dreams for her exceed her God-given potential you should just steer clear, you may observe from the sidelines but that is all and if i ever catch the two of you in a deadlock deathmatch for attention, power or even the last can of soda in the fridge you will pay dearly, she will be excused and you will be sorry you ever met her.
you just remember that, you big baby.
because little girls are a precious gift and ought to be loved endlessly, appreciated honestly and sent on their way into the world with a knowledge that should they ever need help you will offer all you have, without questioning or trepidation.
but we are not often treated that way and so you ought not burden us, even when we are grown women, with solving your self-esteem issues; we have our own to deal with.
and you ought to keep in mind that if you disrespect us by foregoing our opinion altogether you will miss out on all we might be.
find a balance, put yourself in the game, but don't pretend you are the only one on the field and by all means:
tell the truth until you are blue in the face
tell us what you want, what you like, especially if it costs you dearly to do so.
tell us you are lonely and hungry for the way we taste and aching for the memory of our laughter in your ear.
tell us you intend to kiss us and buy us dinner.
tell us you need our permission or approval and get down on your knees to beg, with confidence that when we are ready to love you, we will.
when we are ready to matter, we will show up and do whatever it takes to matter to you.
And that is the truth.
help yourself | By crymytinyflood | 7:03 PM
