If Not Us, Then Who?
“I feel like I have been such a dower mom lately. I don’t want my kids to see me like this. I need to snap out of it.”
Let those words sink in and I’ll circle back to them in a moment …
As parents, we have a heart to protect our children from ALL things. We try our best to shield them from the scary, unpredictable and unforgiving world around them. Quickly, however, we learn how NOT in control we are. Sometimes, as a result, we overcompensate in areas where we may have a sliver of control. With a white-knuckled fist we hold tight to what we can, but sometimes - in the name of protection and with good intentions - we miss the mark entirely.
In this culture of so many opinions, where a parent’s every move is scrutinized and put under a microscope, how do we find a healthy balance? How do we know the areas to press in and the areas to pull back? How do we know what is too much or not enough? Too strict or too lenient? Too transparent or far too opaque?
All in all, my goal as a mom is quite simple. I want my kids to have a heart for Jesus, be a light in this dark world and ultimately, live a LONG and FULL life.
In hindsight, that is anything but simple and is much easier said than done.
I am a helicopter mom. Those who know me would agree. It’s a constant struggle trying to find a healthy balance of being responsible and proactive vs. overbearing and overprotective. I live in a tension - an internal and constant tug of war - where I am trying to embrace certain freedoms that come hand in hand with ever-growing and maturing children AND the raging mama bear within me. Let’s be honest - my kids are still small and don’t have much freedom just yet … but I know in a blink of an eye that will change. I doubt, however, the mama bear within me will.
Having already buried a child, unfortunately, only exacerbates the issue. The unimaginable has touched my life. Every parent’s nightmare of looking down into the grave of their child wasn’t just a dream for me - it’s a scene I have endured. Unfortunately, it made a mom who would already have been overprotective, a bit more neurotic. So what’s a mom to do?
I just want to keep them safe … spiritually, physically, mentally and emotionally.
Spiritually speaking, it’s quite simple. I want them to know Jesus. I want them to believe God loved them SO MUCH that He moved Heaven and Earth to find a way to be with them forever. I want them to know there is nowhere they can go that He cannot follow. I want them to open their hearts to His great sacrifice. I want their love for Him and His people to be overflowing.
The physical component is quite tangible and relatively obvious - well, you would hope at least for most. There is some gray area for sure, but a lot of it is common sense. Wear your seatbelt. Don’t talk with strangers. Don’t run with scissors. Wash your hands. Don’t do drugs. Exercise. Limit screen time. Don’t lick the bottom of your boot (that one is Emersyn specific). Eat your vegetables … and so forth.
And then there is the mental and emotional piece. This one is a bit harder to dissect and holds ample space for gray area because it is ever-evolving and varies from kid to kid. Every child is a unique creation and needs to be loved and supported in ways unique to them. Mental and emotional health is not a one size fits all deal. This is the one I struggle with the most because it is not black and white.
As parents we don’t want to expose our children to the parts of this life that, even as adults, are hard to navigate. We don’t want them to see us fighting. We don’t want them to see us scared. We don’t them to see us sad. In an attempt to protect, we sometimes shield them from the very things they will surely experience in their lifetimes, instead of showing them how to navigate those things in a healthy way. And yet, someone must teach our children how to do these things. My question to you is this …
If not us, then who?
As parents, it is our job to TEACH. Just as we teach them how to ride a bike and how to share, we also must teach them how to manage big emotions and difficult life events.
Children are sponges. They mimic. They copy. They often grow into unique versions of what they are repeatedly exposed to. They watch our every move. Yes, they pick up on our bad habits. The upside, however? They also will pick up on the good ones.
With that in mind, let me ask you another question … What about grief? Sorrow? The process of lamentation? Whose job is it to teach the young generation these things? Could this possibly be the reason that as a culture we, more often than not, feel so unequipped to handle grief and its collateral?
Could it be that we simply were never taught?
“I feel like I have been such a dower mom lately. I don’t want my kids to see me like this. I need to snap out of it.”
I have heard these words pour from loving hearts that genuinely want to protect in the wake of great loss. Grief somehow just feels wrong. It feels like something we need to hide; something we don’t want our children to see and thus, something we must shield them from.
But if not us, then who … WILL TEACH THEM HOW TO GRIEVE?
How will they know how to do it, if we - their parents - never show them? Remember … our children mimic us. They watch our every move and it is OUR responsibility to show them the reality of sorrow.
I’m not saying we need to expose our children to all the UGLY. Just like all things in life, we need to temper and adjust according to what is age-appropriate. But … they must be exposed to it or when their time comes, they too will be lost.
If I had living children when Logan died, I wouldn’t have let them see the moments were I was on my knees and screaming at the top of my lungs in anguish … I wouldn’t have let them see the moments of searing pain that produced reactions in me that would have scared them. I broke things. I yelled obscenities. I did things that were out of character.
I would, however, have let them see me cry.
I would have told them my heart was broken and it made “Mommy’s energy” low. I would have explained that low energy made me very sleepy. I would have told them I was going to a “doctor” or “counselor” to talk about my broken heart. I would have reminded them it’s good to talk about the things that make us sad and even the things that may make us uncomfortable. I would have openly talked to them about their brother being in Heaven and given them space to share their feelings too. I would have explained to them that just like a wound we can see on the outside -one that needs to be cleaned, bandaged, given time to rest and heal- that wounds on the inside, although not visible to the naked eye, need to be cared for in the very same way. I would have let them see me write and would have told them how it helped me handle the emotions I was feeling.
I would have still tried my best to be the mom they deserved. I would have still loved and cared for them to the best of my ability. I would have put on a smile, built forts and engaged in tickle battles. I would have cooked dinner and read bedtimes stories … and then … I would have cried in front of them some more. I would have shown them grief is not something to avoid or ignore, rather something we must embrace. I would have protected them -to the best of my ability- to things children should not have to carry, but at the same time, I would have TAUGHT them it’s ok to be sad … that grief is a normal part of life.
And because of that, they would have grown with an understanding many adults today do not possess.
And now … I am going to turn all of that upside down. For the sake of transparency, do you want to know the truth?
I would have done practically NONE of those things.
I, like so many, would have hidden my grief in an attempt to protect my children. I would have thought it was the right thing to do. And you know what? It wouldn’t have been my fault, for I was never taught otherwise. My parents were never taught otherwise. My grandparents were never taught otherwise.
And now … we have a silent epidemic.
I would have done all those things ONLY if someone who had walked the road before me, had instructed me to.
I am simply far enough removed and have learned enough at this point to know better. But had I been in that situation with no guidance, my grief would have been private and kept at a safe distance from my children in the name of “protection.” And my children? They would have grown up unequipped - not understanding grief and believing it was a road to walk in silence. And when a time of great sadness entered their lives? Grief would have barged through their front doors unannounced. Its presence would have been threatening, unfamiliar and overwhelming.
It's impossible to ever be truly “prepared” for the magnitude and all-consuming nature of grief until you are in the thick of it. It is possible, however, to be equipped with the knowledge, tools and community necessary to help a brutally difficult journey - at least - be navigated in a healthy way.
“What I find most upsetting in all of this is the subtle way our culture hints that grief is wrong and loss is only for a season. The posture of our society breaks my heart. It is so deeply rooted in our culture that it makes me wonder how we will ever find a force great enough to choke it out.”
I wrote those words last month. It’s most certainly not necessary to quote oneself, but in all honesty, it was easier than finding a new way to say the same thing. As I was working on this piece that last sentence kept playing over and over in my mind. What force could make a difference? What force could sever those toxic roots? And then it hit me …
IT’S OUR CHILDREN.
It’s the next generation. It’s one family at a time leaning into their grief, showing their kids it’s ok to hurt and being open to discussing the uncomfortable. It’s one child at a time growing up learning the difference between healthy and unhealthy coping mechanisms. It’s training knee-jerk reactions in trying times to be life-giving, not life-stealing. It’s counseling no longer feeling taboo or something only for the weak. It’s mental health being discussed openly. It’s change taking place in one home at a time.
It’s our responsibility to make these things second nature to our children. Do something often enough and it becomes a habit. An automatic response. Reinforce it. Practice it. Allow it to become deeply rooted in them …
When Sullivan is struggling, he needs physical touch. He needs a hug. A cuddle. He craves words of affirmation and a loving embrace. He needs a calm voice, eye contact and his beautiful face cradled in the hands of someone who loves him. Those are the things that give him comfort. He also loves to draw and create. A bucket of legos or a sketch pad and a bag of colored pencils are an easy and helpful escape for him. Over the years these “outlets” will most certainly evolve, but right now, these are the places we can - and will - direct him.
Emersyn, on the other hand, is a puzzle as unique as every day. When she is struggling, well, to be honest, she normally just wants a treat. She is also only four, but nothing calms that girl down like a perfectly timed cookie. However, in an effort not to encourage eating as an emotional response, we are learning how to funnel and redirect those big emotions elsewhere. Right now, her outlets change as much as her clothes do … and that is at least a dozen times a day. Maybe, like me, she will turn to words for comfort someday. Right now? It is just too soon to tell. Either way, as she continues to grow into the incredible creation that she is, we will help identify where and how we can help her cope.
It’s not perfect. WE are not perfect. But … it’s a start.
Logan was my first great loss but unfortunately not my last. When immense sadness covers me again, I am going to try my best not to live these words out in rhetoric alone, but walk a road that step by step mimics those very words. And guess what? My kids will be watching my every move…
Our children are the way to change.
Slowly the tide will begin to shift and what once felt foreign, unknown and uncomfortable, will grow into something familiar, understood and entirely normal. These beautiful roots -the ones our children are capable of growing- WILL choke out that which has for so long made the very ground we walk on toxic.
Young generations will rewrite the habits of our society. And one day, as they dig their toes into the fertile and vitamin-rich soil they unknowingly helped cultivate, they will look back at us puzzled; shaking their heads and wondering how in the world we had it so wrong.
I may not like it, but I am ok being a part of the world that HAD it wrong. You see, “had” is past-tense.
If something USED to be wrong, that in translation means … IT NO LONGER IS.
Cheers to that time.
Much Love,
Jamie
