A Teacher Hears and Changes a Future

It’s four days out from the very lovely weekend evening I spent with my nephew, and I’m still contemplating the lesson I learned about the importance of offering a listening ear without judgment. I remember when I was just a year younger than my nephew is now and struggling with the feeling that I was speaking but not being heard, and hence, not being seen. So, I began hiding myself. That same year my 10th grade English teacher, Mrs. B, gave me an invaluable gift, likely unbeknownst to her, in the form of an assignment to write a poem about anything that mattered deeply to us. It could be about family, friends, school, or it could be an expression of how we feel about our lives or the world. It simply had to follow some type of poetic form that I can’t fully recall and was restricted to 20 lines or less.

This is what my 15-year old self wrote:

The Eyes
Able to see all the wrong in the world; 
unable to see anything right. 
Only looking at the darkness in life; 
never discerning the light. 
Constantly searching for others’ faults;
never the things they do best. 
Able to see all of the sorrows in life; 
unable to perceive anything else. 
Only able to see a reflection 
of the most critical judge of others. 
The eyes, so critical of everyone else,
they forget to examine the owner. 

Not exactly Keats or Shakespeare, but I received an A+. Mrs. B wrote that my poem revealed “profound insight and wisdom” from one “so young.” She also suggested I pursue writing as an opportunity to continue expressing my thoughts and ideas and to potentially help others.

Through a simple class assignment, Mrs. B had not only given me the gift of being heard and understood, but also opened a door for me to communicate in a way that felt safe. And in that moment—albeit unknown to either of us—the path of my future was set.

A Listening Ear and Loving Words to Ease a Teen's Anxiety

Today, I experienced the all too rare treat of spending the evening with my 16-year-old nephew. He’s been experiencing some difficult moments at school and home lately as he goes through that awkward period we all do of transitioning from child to adult. Sometimes, I feel like I’m still in it. That stage where you’re trying to figure out who you are and who you want to be while the well-meaning adults in your life start demanding that you be more responsible and independent, think for yourself, make your own decisions, etc., etc., until, of course, your thoughts, choices, and acts of independence conflict with what they believe you should think, choose or do.

I enjoyed spending the evening with my nephew. I enjoyed simply listening to him—hearing what he thought, how he felt, seeing through his eyes why he has made some of the choices he’s made. I enjoyed hearing him share about school, his classes and friends, and the things he likes to do and would like to do. I also enjoyed helping him to come up with his own solutions to his problems, and offering to run interference for him, if necessary, with the other well-meaning adults in his life. He, like me, and most others, I imagine, sometimes simply want to be heard by the well-meaning people in our lives, not counseled and especially not judged—just heard.

I believe most of us want to act in ways that truly benefit ourselves and others, but sometimes we screw up. Sometimes, we act or make choices in the moment without fully thinking through potential outcomes. Sometimes we act in ways that are simply not in our best interests. And sometimes our actions and choices may even put us or others in harm’s way. I suspect most of us are so much better at beating ourselves up when these things happen that having someone else do it for us just isn’t helpful. A kind, supportive word or listening ear, on the other hand, can quickly turn an unfortunate decision into an opportunity of learning how to make fortunate ones. It can also keep someone from getting stuck in their mistakes, believing wrongly that these define who they are.

At the beginning of the evening, my nephew seemed a little disappointed that he was “forced” to hang out with his aunt rather than his friends on a Saturday night (he’s grounded and his grandparents decided he should help me around the house as part of his punishment. Not quite sure how I should take that, but, oh well!). By the time my nephew left to go home, he and I both were happy to have spent the time together. He actually promised to hang out with me again some evening of his own decision. 

Good choices and not-so-good ones aside, my nephew has within him the potential to be an amazing young man. It was within in him the moment he arrived here 16 years ago.

Anxiety weighs down the heart, but a kind word cheers it up. - Proverbs 12:25

I'm Still Here—Flaws and All

Wow, it's been a long time. Guess I haven't had much to say over the past year. Now I do.

I’m not perfect! That was challenging to write, but it is true and bit by bit I’m coming into a place of acceptance of that fact. Not that I ever really believed I was or could be perfect. It’s more that I felt I had to try to be or at least present an air of perfection. Slowly, moment by moment, I’m learning to let that go and accept that I, as do most of us, have flaws—little quirks and idiosyncrasies that may possibly even annoy others and give them cause (in their opinion) to think badly of me, but which also make me..gasp!... human. Oh well!

No matter how hard I try, no matter what I do, sometimes I just don't always have the answer. Heck, there are times I do seemingly "stupid" things. And there are times when I’m not a “good” person the way some judge “good” people from so-called “bad” ones. There are times I feel angry and act on it. Sometimes I can feel outright malevolent. Sometimes I feel sad and actually shed rivers of tears. Sometimes I feel insecure, impatient, confused, awkward, etc., etc. And sometimes, I do feel perfect! Perfectly me!

This is a huge breakthrough for me as most of my life since I can remember, I've always felt like I had to be perfect. For years, I aspired to some vague and constantly changing ideal of perfection. I always had to do the right or say the right thing. Wear the right clothes. Go to the right schools. Hold the right job. Hang out with the right people—never truly certain who exactly determined the criteria for what is "right."

I can honestly say that all this striving for perfection has been physically, emotionally, and spiritually exhausting. Now, I just want to be comfortable being. I want to allow myself to fully experience me in every moment—through every feeling, every emotion, every action—without judgment. I want to be okay having a bad hair day, making an inelegant step, stuttering my way through a sentence, or making a... WAIT. FOR. IT... a grammatical error. (I'm sure there are more than a few in this blog! Don't even bother to point them out.) I simply want to enjoy every moment with myself, just being myself whether happy or sad, angry or joyful, impatient or patient, insensitive or compassionate, selfish or selfless, enthusiastic or exhausted, resolute or uncertain, fearful or faith-filled, passionate or subdued, whatever the case may be.

This doesn't mean I'm no longer going to make an effort to be, do, or look my best. It only means that I have decided to be kinder to myself and stop beating myself up whenever I feel I didn't quite hit target.

At the end of the day, I’m just one more person trying to figure out how to live the best, most enjoyable, most amazing life—whatever that looks like—for me. If you don't judge me, I'll promise to not judge you.