The lies we tell our kids

It’s not intentional, really. We want to believe it’s true when we say that they can be and do anything they want when they grow up. We want to believe that there’s some relationship between that idea and the need for them to perform throughout their teen years as if their lives depended on it. We want to believe that there is no conflict between our urging them to Follow their Dreams morphing suddenly and abruptly into What are you Going to Major in and How are you Going to Support Yourself for the Rest of your Life doing That? We tell them to do all the “right” things because we don’t know what else to tell them and we can’t bear to tell them nothing. Or to let them fail. Or to let them veer from the prototypical success model——who knows where that might lead?

Maybe, just maybe, it will lead them slowly, and with some requisite turbulence, to themselves.

So if we really want to help our teen and young adult children, I’m thinking we should stop telling them that who they are is a series of grades and tests scores and titles and victories that must be accrued in a deliberate time and sequence—or else—and we should start telling them the truth, which, when you step back, I believe, looks something like this:

Between the ages of 15 and 25—give or take—you’re going to want to learn some things, e.g:

*What you like to do, and what you’re good at, and if those are the same things
*What kind of people make you happy and what kind of people seem happy to be around you
*What it feels like to love another person and the delirious grace that comes from being loved back
*Whether or not sex is going to become a defining factor in your life
*How to dig yourself out of a hole
*How to throw yourself into an idea that is bigger than yourself and seeing what happens
*How to cook a meal, do your laundry, clean your bathroom, and live with roommates
*How to look someone in the eye when you shake their hand
*What it feels like to earn a paycheck and then pay for something with money you earned
*Whether or not you can make enough money doing the things you like and are good at to live the way you want to live
*Or if money is more important to you than spending your time doing things you like or love and what that choice will cost you down the road (this usually has to be learned later)
*You’ll want to know what you believe in about Big Questions like God, and compassion, and why there’s evil in the world, and if you think you’re contributing to it, and how you feel about that
*You’ll want to know how to learn new things—some of your choosing, some not
*You’ll have to decide if your word will be your bond
*And to recognize those whose word is not
*It’s hard to build a good life on a wobbly foundation so you’re going to want to develop some confidence—if you’re lacking in that area—or some humility, if you’re not
*Do you know what makes you feel confident yet?
*Do you know how to express your thoughts and feelings?
*Do you know what you were put on this Earth to be and do?

Our kids will learn these things, and others, in no particular order, and often multiple times. No one will give them a certificate or a grade or a degree or a prize for them. But when they feel they’ve got a handle on most of these, they’ll be ready to have a really nice life. Let’s remember to tell them that sometimes.

What’s the worst that could happen?

Elijah & the SAT

God as a reference

“We love Christmas presents but not Christ; Easter baskets but not crosses. We want to tell our friends with cancer that we will pray for them (we don’t) and our puddle-eyed children that their goldfish have gone to heaven (doubtful). When we lose our jobs we want to take comfort in the idea that God doesn’t give us more than we can handle, but really, how can we? We have absolutely no idea what God has given us or what it might be for. We haven’t talked to Him in ages.”
(from Elijah & the SAT)
Elijah & the SAT

Cup Shopping

Jill was unnerved to discover that it was nothing like shopping for bras. There was no designated department. There were no helpful size charts or swooping sales women who had the exact same one at home in three colors. There was just a pegboard panel with hooks on a wall in a row with the shin guards and the mouth guards and the masks that covered entire young faces. And this was not about anything as frivolous as sagging. Grandchildren were at stake.

“Excuse me,” Jill said. Gus instinctively drifted off toward the bat display as a carbuncle-cheeked sales boy answered Jill’s call. “Maybe you can help me.”

Jill held two cups up to the clerk’s reddening nose. “This one here says Youth Small, which is a size six to eight. And this one here is a Youth Medium, which is a ten to twelve. So what do you usually recommend for an eight going on nine-year-old?”

The teenager eyed Gus’s hiding place by the bat rack enviously. “I really couldn’t say, ma’am. Would you like me to get the manager?”

“Yes. Why don’t you do that.” Turning to position Gus in her eye line, she held each cup up in its imaginary position, one, then the other, like a cameraman plotting his shot.

A man with a dated mustache rounded the corner. “I’m the manager. May I help you?”

“I just need some advice on these cups.” Up and down the neighboring aisles, boys scattered like delinquents. “I’m concerned that this one might be too small, but this one,” she said, holding it up to the light and rolling her eyes, “Looks way too big, don’t you think?”

The manager looked over at Gus who shoved his hands in his pockets and whisper shouted, “Can’t we just get both of them?”

“That’s probably best,” the manager offered quickly.

“Are they returnable?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Well, I’m not going to spend $9.99 on a cup you’re never going to use. That’s just a waste.” Turning back to the manager she said, “Isn’t there some way you could help size him for me?”

The man smiled so tightly his mustache brushed his jaw line. “Not really, no.”

He’d left her no choice. Squatting down, Jill held each cup up to Gus’s zipper line.

“Mo-om!!”

“If you want to play baseball you need a cup that fits. That’s all there is to it. I’m sure Ronald Clemens’s mom had to do this when he first started, too.”

“Roger,” Gus corrected.

“Roger,” Jill said, then stood up with a resigned sigh. “Well, I’m not sure either of them is perfect, but, I say the safe bet is the big one. You can always grow into it.” She tilted it on its side and squinted, as if measuring flour in its capacious hollow.

Gus’s eyes widened at the prospect of the vast, demanding shell. Unable to articulate the particular threat of the larger cup, he merely shook his head and, raising his index finger up like E.T.’s, pointed to the smaller one.

(excerpted from The Pitcher’s Mom)

No pain, no gain

The Voice of Elijah: Struggling