You know the saying, “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger,” right? It’s one of those pieces of wisdom that sticks to a refrigerator magnet for years before you actually understand it from a gut level and make it your own. My mother-in-law has a plague on her kitchen wall that reads: “Grandchildren are God’s gift for not killing your own children”. I look forward to benefiting from that nugget of wisdom too someday.
Taking pride in mistakes and failures is not something that comes naturally in our culture. In fact, it’s almost impossible unless you intentionally seek it’s wisdom. In some cultures, battle scars are seen as a badge of honor and character builders. Here, however, it’s more about success and perfection, finding that ultimate high without actually doing any of the work.
Sometimes, I wonder, if we aren’t confused between “joy” and “happiness”? Joy being something I participate in actively rather than an illusion I think about? Joy, something that resonates throughout my body versus some utopia that only resides in my imagination? Joy, not a fleeting thought or goal but something I lean into, giving my life meaning, authenticity and overall effectiveness?
To me, this is the difference and for me this difference became blatantly apparent the other night when my teenagers were late to a social event. Actually, I got them there on time but the line from the door was so long that my kids were asked to leave. I guess a lot of teens were out looking for a good time that night and only a select few were going to get a chance to experience it. And so the drama ensued.
Heads down, lips a quiver, my girls slogged back to the car in a deeply entrenched funk. The kind of funk that ingrains itself into the very cells of a hormonal teenager and makes the car ride home from the overflow parking lot a living hell! No where to be, no where to run, I suddenly realized that this might be a character building moment. A moment in time that only comes around once in awhile, well maybe more than once in awhile but certainly a moment that got my attention, yes, a real teachable moment! Indeed it was a teachable moment, yet, for some reason, I couldn’t figure out what the lesson might be.
The mood in the car was so heavy, I felt the wheels grinding and dragging beneath us, and still, nothing was coming to me. And then it hit me! Pain! Yes, my kids were feeling something foreign and even alien-like but I truly believe that what they were feeling was actual pain! As soon as I realized what was I happening I went on full alert. I would not let this opportunity escape, no way, I was on a mission and there was no way I was going to allow them to avoid it, deny it, rationalize it or simply jump to the next form of entertainment.
First thing I did was get myself out of the way, and fast! I was not going to sugar coat things or figure out a way to make them feel better, I was just going to allow them the space and time to feel miserable. It was wonderful! One got mouthy and tried to blame the ruined evening on me and my slow driving but I wouldn’t allow it. Consequences dear, “no allowance this week!”
Next, the other one tried to escape the pain and pick a fight with her sister, again, no go, “both of you to your rooms, no electronics,” I was on a roll! Finally after an hour or so of creative maneuvering, my girls gave up. They were done. It just wasn’t worth it to them anymore. They were spent.
The pain had subsided and they had made it through. Surprisingly, not damaged but hopefully deepened, my girls had prevailed through the rocky terrain of pain. I was proud of them. I was proud of me. Most of all, I was grateful for their experience.
Later that night, I heard them laughing with each other over nothing in particular, it was really quite amazing. Was it joy or happiness, I’m not sure? Whatever it was, it sounded hearty and full of life and certainly welcome at our house anytime!
Taking pride in mistakes and failures is not something that comes naturally in our culture. In fact, it’s almost impossible unless you intentionally seek it’s wisdom. In some cultures, battle scars are seen as a badge of honor and character builders. Here, however, it’s more about success and perfection, finding that ultimate high without actually doing any of the work.
Sometimes, I wonder, if we aren’t confused between “joy” and “happiness”? Joy being something I participate in actively rather than an illusion I think about? Joy, something that resonates throughout my body versus some utopia that only resides in my imagination? Joy, not a fleeting thought or goal but something I lean into, giving my life meaning, authenticity and overall effectiveness?
To me, this is the difference and for me this difference became blatantly apparent the other night when my teenagers were late to a social event. Actually, I got them there on time but the line from the door was so long that my kids were asked to leave. I guess a lot of teens were out looking for a good time that night and only a select few were going to get a chance to experience it. And so the drama ensued.
Heads down, lips a quiver, my girls slogged back to the car in a deeply entrenched funk. The kind of funk that ingrains itself into the very cells of a hormonal teenager and makes the car ride home from the overflow parking lot a living hell! No where to be, no where to run, I suddenly realized that this might be a character building moment. A moment in time that only comes around once in awhile, well maybe more than once in awhile but certainly a moment that got my attention, yes, a real teachable moment! Indeed it was a teachable moment, yet, for some reason, I couldn’t figure out what the lesson might be.
The mood in the car was so heavy, I felt the wheels grinding and dragging beneath us, and still, nothing was coming to me. And then it hit me! Pain! Yes, my kids were feeling something foreign and even alien-like but I truly believe that what they were feeling was actual pain! As soon as I realized what was I happening I went on full alert. I would not let this opportunity escape, no way, I was on a mission and there was no way I was going to allow them to avoid it, deny it, rationalize it or simply jump to the next form of entertainment.
First thing I did was get myself out of the way, and fast! I was not going to sugar coat things or figure out a way to make them feel better, I was just going to allow them the space and time to feel miserable. It was wonderful! One got mouthy and tried to blame the ruined evening on me and my slow driving but I wouldn’t allow it. Consequences dear, “no allowance this week!”
Next, the other one tried to escape the pain and pick a fight with her sister, again, no go, “both of you to your rooms, no electronics,” I was on a roll! Finally after an hour or so of creative maneuvering, my girls gave up. They were done. It just wasn’t worth it to them anymore. They were spent.
The pain had subsided and they had made it through. Surprisingly, not damaged but hopefully deepened, my girls had prevailed through the rocky terrain of pain. I was proud of them. I was proud of me. Most of all, I was grateful for their experience.
Later that night, I heard them laughing with each other over nothing in particular, it was really quite amazing. Was it joy or happiness, I’m not sure? Whatever it was, it sounded hearty and full of life and certainly welcome at our house anytime!
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