An “Old Soul”

psychologies.co.uk

My daughter was in the 8th grade when someone had first referred to her as an “old soul”. It was her social studies teacher who was also an assistant coach of her field hockey team. I stood in the parent-teacher conference slightly annoyed at his remark.

About a month later, someone else made the same comment.

The word “old” was not fitting for a vibrant, beautiful young teenager with long hair and a terrific laugh. A strong athlete with a quick-wit was anything but “old”.

The word “soul”? Well, that word was right on.

I was viewing the word “old” negatively as if these adults were making her less-than. Really what they were trying to do was locate a word to describe a teenager who was anything but typical. The teachers in particular always wanted to share stories with me about how my youngest not only befriended the special needs students but went out of her way to check in with them daily, saying “hello” and “how are you?” that perhaps meant more to the observant teachers than the children.

On the last day of eighth grade, she emerged from the traditional end-of-year award ceremonies empty-handed. “Mama, what I’m good at is not valued at school. It’s not graded.” I nearly died from heartbreak in the school hallway. Her eyes were quizzical as she too attempted to locate words to describe herself.

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It was a curious mix back in her youth: a sweet, gentle spirit who would be readily labeled very friendly but not boisterous, on the quiet-side, but also spoke up loudly when another was being belittled or ridiculed. Athletic and captain of her teams, she demonstrated tremendous ability to lead but sat back in group settings, allowing others to be “first”. I suppose the only term that came to the teachers’ minds was “old soul”.

This memory recently came back to me and so I researched a few minutes regarding what the term ‘old soul’ means. There were a wide array of contradicting definitions. Most didn’t resemble my child at all. However, one repetitive noun was “empath”. “An empath is someone who understands the mental or emotional states of others in a way that defies conventional science and psychology. Empaths have the ability to sense the feelings, the thoughts of people.” (Urban Dictionary) Essentially, feeling and thus expressing far more empathy than a normal human.  When my youngest was 12 years young, she learned of the diagnosis of a 5-year old boy with terminal cancer. We did not know this family personally but were praying for the boy. I watched my daughter pray, carefully follow his treatment over the few short months he had remaining on this side of heaven, and observed her emotional collapse when he left to be with the Lord. As she lay crying on the couch, she choked through her tears to me, “I don’t want you thinking I’m crying for my own sadness. I’m devastated for the parents…they will never get over this.” She was 12.

My baby girl is now a senior at a university she loves and thrives at. She’s known and loved by her friend group, has a wonderful boyfriend and professors gush over her public speaking skills. If you met her today, your first thought would definitely not be “public speaker” but the moment she takes the front of the room, she brings it to life and commands attention. She’s gentle in spirit, she listens when you speak-regardless of how important you may or may not be in the world-and she loves Jesus. She sees people in a world where most of us are sincerely invisible.

While finishing the decorating of my daughter’s room in her new apartment at school, I was frustrated because the little sunflower lights weren’t yet exactly how I wanted them. I was likely huffing and adjusting them when my youngest’s hand suddenly appeared, and laid ever so gently upon mine. I looked up from my crouched position on the floor at her smiling face. With her hand gently tapping mine she very softly said, “patience my little grasshopper”. I laughed out loud at her adaptation of the famous quote, which was far sweeter with “my little”.

Most actual definitions of old soul don’t fit my daughter, but the few consistent attributes of an empath were reminders for me. While this little jaunt down memory lane turned into a Mom-post, God used the fleeting memory and my quick internet searches to draw attention to the desensitization I’ve been experiencing lately. Normally a highly empathetic person myself, I realized that reviewing nearly 40 cases highlighting man’s worst depravities (see previous post/I’ve been serving on a grand jury for several weeks), my initial disgust has transitioned into desensitivity. We’ve been told that we’ve seen more horrific cases than many juries in past years. The fallout from the presidential election and the claims from those who “say that evil is good and good is evil; that dark is light and that light is dark” (Isaiah 5:20) has additionally increased my guardedness. This is not good when I’m usually quite approachable.

How good it will be to have a day this week purely devoted to gratitude, family, games and delicious food. The timing of Thanksgiving amidst the serious unrest across our Covid-globe and in our hearts…my heart…is much-needed. Perhaps I’m not alone in recognizing the need for renewing empathy and being more sensitive toward others. 

image above: studywithfriends.org/wp-content/uploads(fruit of the spirit image)

 

 

One of the Best Christmas Gifts I Ever Received

I’ve never been great at answering the question, “what was the best gift you’ve ever received?”

Salvation? My children? Health? …. the list is long. But when pressed this year to come up with something tangible that was actually wrapped in paper, I had to say it was a Hallmark Store book titled, The Night Before Christmas.What’s so special about a story we’ve all heard since birth?

This one records voices.

My friend recorded my kids’ voices reading the famous tale in another room while I was prepping a meal, wrapped the book and gave it to me the same day. My twins were around 10 yrs. old and my youngest around 8 yrs. old at the time.

I was so touched and gushed about what a thoughtful gift it was. I meant it but could not have known how PRECIOUS that book would become in the subsequent years.

My daughters voices matured and of course my son’s voice has changed dramatically. Every year that I pull the book out and open each page, tears stream down my face. I close my eyes to picture those little voices running through the house at Christmas…over a decade has gone by since that gift was given to me.

If you regularly follow my blog, you’ll recall my posts about the wedding I attended in Scotland this past summer. The bride’s mama was my precious friend of 20 years who lost her cancer battle three years ago. Her departure at the too-young age of 49 makes me clutch that voice-recorded Christmas book even tighter to my chest, knowing that she gave me that gift that was so much more of a gift that I realized at the time.

The first few years, I think the book was nicely placed on top of some other decorations in a regular Christmas box, packed away until the next year. A couple years ago, I began wrapping that book so carefully…storing it as if it were gold. It is gold to me.

As I contemplate gifts for others in years to come, I’ll search out books that also record voices. It is a treasure for parents and if the book remains in tact as time passes, grown-up kids will certainly get a kick out of letting their children hear them when they were young.

2 Ducks. 2 Universities. 2 Weeks.

My daughter graduated from college on Saturday and my son will graduate in two weeks. If you read this blog regularly, you know they are twins and we were jumping with joy a year ago when my daughter’s university finally listed the graduation date and it was different from her twin brother’s! (Whew!)

We arrived home Monday from traveling two states away for her special day. My youngest flew up from Virginia to the Midwest to see her sister graduate, flew back for her final exams and will return home later today. My son drove from his university to meet us. It was a whirlwind few days of travel for all of us. The coordination and planning culminated in a joyous weekend of eating, celebrating, shopping and just having all-around family fun. My son and husband even squeezed in a round of golf before we jumped in the car and headed home.As I was looking at the photos from graduation weekend, I zoomed in on my husband’s eyes which looked really tired. Every photo I’m in with my precious graduate…well, this Mama’s had better hair days. Let me mention that the school decided at the last minute to hold graduation outdoors (we assume due a popular commencement speaker drawing a larger crowd) where it promptly began raining and held tight to a solid 49 degrees. I cursed myself for rising out of the cozy hotel bed at 6am to bother curling my hair :).

I suppose I could blame the rain and long road trip for our fatigued images in the photos, but this past weekend was our 5th travel weekend out of the last six. While I largely work from home, my man had to be up and out every Monday morning following lengthy road trips and one trip by flight. The flight was to see our youngest in Virginia, which truly held multiple blessings for which I thank God for them all. One of course was the weather, which I couldn’t help but share with you here. We watched her play field hockey for her university and we also had fun spending time with her friends who are hilarious and thoughtful kids who are really making an effort to honor God in their young lives.Then, other than one weekend at home, we drove back and forth, staying in hotels another three weekends to see graduating daughter in all her “final” celebrations. Last major competition for her DII lacrosse team. Senior day for lacrosse. The fashion show where she designed and sewed two complete outfits for the runway where two models wore her clothes. She’s a business graduate with majors in fashion and entrepreneurship. While she attended a private university, she spent last year attending FIT in Manhattan and interned with an international fashion house as part of her program. The girl who couldn’t wait to move to NYC has decided that she will never live there again :). And, she was in a trendy, very nice area… but still too noisy for her!

Two weeks from now, her twin and my son, will take his turn walking across the stage, graduating from his university an hour away from hers (thankfully, an hour closer to home!). All three ducks will be home together only for 24hours before my youngest leaves for her 9-week summer job down south. In the meantime, the nest has already filled in with my graduated daughter having piles of clothes, etc., strewn everywhere. This afternoon, the house will close in even more as my youngest pulls in the driveway with her own mountain of dorming stuff. The homecomings bring me happiness as the nest fills with life and action again. Being the deep thinker that I am, this change and activity also makes me marvel at the speed of it all.

I mean, seriously? Four years have passed since moving my twins into their respective universities? There is much to think about and reflect upon, and I already shared a bit of those thoughts with you here.  Since that post, I’m feeling less melancholy which might have something to do with them arriving back in the nest (wink).

This summer will hold another adjustment as my daughter moves out of state to her new career (after she just moved back in Monday) and my son has decided to live at home permanently while working in his first big boy job and saving money.

As I consider these upcoming “adjustments”, my mind travels to the young years when “adjustment” meant moving from baby food to solids…dropping them off for full-day Kindergarten…leaving them in the Sunday School nursery even though they were crying…

Those were small potatoes. At the time, they were monumental potatoes, but not compared to the reality that these are the final few years (if that) before they move out for good and eventually marry, building their own nests: When Your Kids Near Marrying Age.

As we embark upon yet another new parenting season of having adult children – college graduates – who now live at home for a time, I’m grateful. I’m thankful for card games and board games. Summer dinners on the backyard table. All the usual things we tend to do during the summer and I don’t stress over too much any more. I think I wore myself out during the teen years (wink) and learned the hard way to trust God at every turn.  I’ve learned that the only steady, ever-present Rock that will never change or shift or move is the One Who knows us best. Who loves us just as we are, right where we are. Ready to help us navigate and enjoy all the fresh waters we’ve yet to explore as parents of adult children.

Thanks for catching up with my nest-news today. I wish you a happy weekend :).

 

 

 

Desensitize My Kids?!

Throwback Thursday from 5/8/2013

I was participating in a women’s prayer meeting at a church where I was relatively new. Until that day, I regularly offered prayer for others, but rarely requested any for myself. As my children began Middle School, I realized that it would take the proverbial village to protect my kids from the stunning corruption widespread among American youth.

That morning I mustered up the courage to ask for prayer that my kids would not grow desensitized, but remain kindhearted despite the shocking revelations that they are eventually exposed to at that age. I had recently confirmed for them that, “Yes, one German man and his team of assassins murdered multiple millions of people. Yes, Edgar Allen Poe’s writings are disgusting and disturbing. Yes, several men flew airplanes into buildings wanting to kill Americans.” The Holocaust, 9/11, and murder-filled literature, were upsetting to my 11-year old twins. They had also experienced their first pains of meanness from other kids.

Relieved that I had asked the women to lift up my kids in prayer, I experienced a temporary feeling of peace about the changes that Middle School had brought.

Pushing in my chair to leave, a 50-something, confident woman approached me. I expected her to confirm her intent to pray on my behalf. Instead, she blurted, “Your kids need to get desensitized.” Huh? I was confused, slight angry, and embarrassment rose up in my cheeks. Noticing my facial contortions, she offered, “I retired early last year, having been a Middle School Principal for many years.”

I stared at her without response.

“It’s just that the world is a terrible place and kids are awful. Your kids need to be desensitized or everything is going to bother them.”

Finding my tongue, I retorted, “not everything is going to bother them, but injustice, prejudice, and blatant violence against others should trouble them. I don’t want them to ignore or walk away from such things. I want them to be responsive toward others.”

She smiled at me in a condescending way, patted my hand and said, “Well, I’m just telling you from experience that it’s better if they get desensitized.”

My mind was outraged and my feelings hurt. I had expended terrific effort to train three kids to care. I was not about to conform to the ways of this world in a lazy, irresponsible effort to create more zombies. All that came to mind at that moment was the group of teens who watched, cheered, videotaped and photographed the brutal beating of one of their “friends”. Then, they uploaded the unconscionable horror to YouTube. While I know that level of degeneracy is rare, the day to day lack of sensitivity is rampant in Middle Schools and High Schools across the nation.

One of the great battles for Christians (unless they are the sort who cut themselves off from contemporary life) is to remain kind when they’ve had a string of wrongs hurt them over the years. In addition to the unforeseen events like earthquakes, hurricanes, and illness, we unfortunately also endure heart trauma by the entirely avoidable meanness of others. It is natural to grow hardened.

All humans make big mistakes and bad decisions. We err and say hurtful things. The difference between desensitized and remaining sensitive, is remorse. The desensitized person doesn’t experience regret, sorrow or repentance. There is no reflecting or pondering or consideration of the consequences.

Despite the bad advice of the retired principal, I choose to continue the hard work of raising three human beings who care. My intent isn’t to shield them. I encourage “speaking up”, even to those in authority, when appropriate. All of my kids play competitive travel sports and are not ones to shrink back from conflict when necessary.

They are acutely aware of the world’s evil, feel sad when they are treated unjustly, but always move forward strong and confident. I’ll never believe that desensitizing children so they feel little, if any, compassion, is wise or responsible parenting.

 

 

I Can’t Be All Things To My Kids

Gulp. I said it. Once upon a time, I really believed I was all things to my kids.  That is probably normal for young Moms with small children. Or, maybe I was just an egomaniac, but I’m going with the fact that I was young and inexperienced. I hadn’t yet been confronted with the reality that God-given “free will” would be exercised by my kids and would radically reduce my self-appointed self-importance.

When my three children were 0-12, I taught them everything. Well, they went to school at five, but I taught them to know God, to read, count, write, like themselves and others, use good manners, play… Let’s not forget I clothed, fed and watered them.  As they became teenagers, I conducted all the “talks”, and 100% of the time, I’ve been the disciplinarian. I hate that role most of all. My husband doesn’t engage in those responsibilities, so I’m the meanie.  But, curiously, I’m also the first to receive the good stuff, which might be a post topic all its own someday.

The first blow to my prideful, Mom-is-in-control-of-these-kids attitude happened when my son was in the 8^th grade. If you read Moms of Teen Boys: Be Encouraged, you know that it was a tough time for me. Now that he’s 17, I’m quite positive I wouldn’t be nearly as devastated if I were to experience that season in his life all over again. Why? For many reasons, but the bottom line is: when children begin stretching their wings, they test the boundaries.

My son testing the boundaries included lying (the #1 no-no), and doing something that we specifically asked him not to do (nothing earth-shattering or harmful, but nonetheless defiant). In response, I spun myself into a web of insanity setting new rules and giving him extra-long chore lists. When his moodiness prevailed, I changed gears and became so sweet, offering kindness at every turn, hoping it would catch on.

After my determined efforts and the usual consequences of revoked privileges did not generate any remorse, my son was delivered the news he dreaded most of all: “We’re sending you to church camp. For a week.  Away from your nest.”

That boy’s face went white and tearful apologies began pouring out of him. If I wasn’t so wrapped up in the months-long shock of watching my sweet, sensitive, always-eager-to-please, golden-boy change into a moody, defiant teen, I would have laughed out loud. He wouldn’t even sleep over at a friend’s house, let alone go away with a relatively new youth group. He needed to always be surrounded by people he knew, and most people thought he was the bomb (a.k.a. – very cool dude).  Now, he would have to establish himself with a foreign crowd and what I believed most valuable: he would be uncomfortable.

With me, he was way too comfortable. Every time I thought my new “idea” for discipline or just establishing some “kindness rules” would turn him around, I was seriously mistaken. I foolishly thought I could make him change. I was thinking way too highly of myself.

That’s not to say that I don’t believe that parents are the most powerful influence in a teenager’s life. I unequivocally do. No matter how much eye-rolling happens, values are absolutely established and engrained in the home life of teenagers.

My son packed for camp with pleading eyes. Professions of obedience were made. Glimpses of the golden boy appeared countless times the week before he departed. All of this made me sincerely wonder if I had made a grave mistake and of course, I just battered myself even more, feeling unsure and worried. Tears streamed down my face as the giant coach bus pulled away.

He arrived home from camp in brighter spirits than we had seen him in months. He met a friend there that today is one of his best buddies. Let me not deceive you that camp cured all boundary-pushing. It did not. However, that experience did teach my son several lessons, and it taught me a few things.

My first realization was that the “little years” were over. Mine were no longer young children who only needed Mommy. During the teen years, new experiences and leaving the circle of comfort are crucial to their development and confidence.

More importantly, where did I place God in my parenting efforts? Did I sincerely trust Him? Did I honestly believe He was helping to raise and even discipline my kids when necessary? No, not really. I can’t be all things to my kids, but God can orchestrate circumstances and friendships and events to teach and nurture my children in ways that I never could. Great relief flowed over me when I accepted as truth that I’m not alone in this parenting business.