I can feel the flush start at my belly button and spread upwards. It comes with that tingly hot feeling and the irrational need to cry. By the time it reaches the roots of my hair I feel about fourteen, tongue-tied and awkward.
But I push through. I refuse to acknowledge my obvious embarrassment. Because there are things that need to be said. The only things that keep me going in a moment when I’d rather retreat into polite acquiescence. Things on behalf of the only two people who motivate such courage in me.
What my boys can’t put into words; what another adult is unwilling to hear – that is what I will always verbalize no matter how sticky my armpits start to get in the attempt.
Sometimes it’s to the preschool director, or a teacher. Sometimes to the dentist or the neighbor who can’t understand why they’re afraid of his dog. Sometimes it’s to the Sunday school teacher who thinks I’m soft on Micah. Sometimes to the guy running the tree stump grinder or the crew laying asphalt. I translate their hopes and whispered admiration; their worries and insecurities. The fact that Micah comes undone if anyone calls him a baby and Jackson will always side with him on that one no matter how unprovoked their retaliation may appear to others.
I am their interpreter. And I don’t take the task lightly.
Every time we speak up on behalf of our kids we communicate to them, “you matter. You are heard. You are not half a person. You have weight in this world.”
May my boys never feel like drift wood – the flotsam and jetsam swept along by an adult world where kids are of no consequence, their actions illogical and unworthy of trying to understand.
Their preschool aide is visibly frustrated.
“Jack put Micah’s shoes in the trash. We couldn’t find them anywhere and when we asked him he finally told us they were in the trash!”
She’s so frustrated and I’m so confused and my boys are hovering on the periphery. I ask her why? I ask her if she asked him, why? She just keeps shaking her head and muttering about how she couldn’t believe that he would put them in the trash.
Jackson edges closer and I can see he is shaking his head – there – out of her range of eyesight. I look for him. I look to him. I nod and ask him to explain.
“No,” he says firmly. “I didn’t throw them away. Micah left them on the ground when he took them off and I put them up. I put them up high so no one would get them.”
On the trash can. On top of the trash can, the teacher’s aide confirms. My boys nod, “yes.” I can tell it’s what they’ve been trying to communicate all afternoon. Sometimes translation is as simple as a realignment of perspective. A willingness to look down. To slow down.
We want to rush children. We want them to spit it out already, hurry up and get a move on, stop dawdling, and pay attention to us. When we pay attention to them it is rarely with our full attention. And usually when it is expedient to us.
The people brought children to Jesus, hoping he might touch them. The disciples shooed them off. But Jesus was irate and let them know it: “Don’t push these children away. Don’t ever get between them and me. These children are at the very center of life in the kingdom. Mark this: Unless you accept God’s kingdom in the simplicity of a child, you’ll never get in.” Then, gathering the children up in his arms, he laid his hands of blessing on them. Mark 10:13-16.
I want to hear you, my boys. I want to hear you with my whole face. And I want you to be able to tell. You matter to me. And while it is still up to me, I will always speak up for you.
You translate His heart into skin everywhere you go.
You are a great mother, and don’t ever think otherwise. Thank you for speaking to my heart today.
Beautifully written, Lisa-Jo! You nailed it about wanting to rush our kids and not slowing down enough to look them in the eye, get on their level physically/emotionally and really hear them. I do this all too often, listen with half-perked ears, filling in the blanks for them instead of really listening to what they are trying to say.
Oh me. This on a day when I half interpreted their words for myself, much less for others …
This is a great post, Lisa-Jo.
Oh my friend … may we all be such staunch defenders of our children, such proud petitioners for them, and such loving examples to them.
So. Beautiful.
I don’t have my own kids, but being in kids ministry I have 100 or so that I call my own for an hour on Sundays. I desperately wish all parents took the time to show their children that they DO matter, that they DO have a voice, that God DOES love them every bit as much as any grown up.
What blessed boys they are to call you mama!
Oh, Lisa Jo! This is my favorite post of yours yet.
Although I say that every week.
If we aren’t our kids’ advocate, who will be? These words should be every Mama’s mantra because they are His words for us! Love this and love you.
I still remember the advice a much older mama of boys gave to me when my oldest was just a toddler, his brother a baby in my arms. We, new mamas of littles, were listening as she explained the secret of raising teenage boys who were connected, who listened, who were respectful, who TALKED to their parents. She said that the key was very simple: “You must listen to them well when they are young, and then they will think it natural to talk to you when they are older.”
So utterly simple–to cultivate a relationship, to listen to the odd things that fill their little worlds. So simple, and yet so hard for us ‘grown-ups.’ Thanks for the same encouragement tonight, Lisa-Jo. I needed the reminder.
This is my first time visiting your blog, and what a wonderful introduction! What a beautiful post. I have two little boys also (one of them a Jackson:). Thank you for the reminder to slow down, to be present, and to let them be heard.
I have to say, that visiting at ANY time is a wonderful introduction from Lisa-Jo!
Now that is good.
From this mom who is learning to slow enough to see all of them
when they speak…
J.
Oh my goodness, the richness. My need to be reminded. Don’t rush them, don’t hurry them along~Listen to their face, their heart, their words. Thank you, Lisa-Jo
Thank you for the reminder, Lisa-Jo. I think sometimes I forget my children feel the same way I do when they are not heard. They have normal size feelings in their pint size bodies. I will be more aware today because of your post.
wonderfully put. And might I say, my deepest regrets have been those times I realized that I *should* have said something, and didn’t.
As always, learning on this parenting journey…
Great post – I have to tuck this one away for when I have my own kids someday! :)
Awesome post! I couldn’t agree more!
Fabulous – you often times put into words I think, but could never share so clearly and beautifully!
absolutely lovely. good for you, mama. how safe and loved your boys must feel in the circle of your family. thank you for sharing this and encouraging me in my mothering today.
As a mother of 2 adolescents girls with developmental disabilities I have freqently been the “interperter” as they have grown. there are those you think I am over the top in my advocating and preparing them to be the best they can be. I see it as my God given role as their Mom . I am an adoptive mom , but I believe the lord gave me these gifts, my girls . One must take care of gifts especially gifts from the Father.
I so enjoy your post . Thank you for sharing from your heart .
Listening to my kids is a whole new experience for me. So worth the time and effort! I didn’t have that growing up, and all around me I see kids being treated like second class citizens. Why don’t we think their feeling matter?
This post got me! REALLY got me! Such truth. Such sad truth. Oh that I will slow down and listen while insisting they do the same.
Thank you, thank you, Sister, for this.
Good words for the souls of mamas. Good words for me as I move through this world, to listen to everyone with my whole face. For so many people feel like unheard half-persons. Isn’t it a balm for the soul when someone really listens. Thanks, Lisa-Jo.
If your momma isn’t an ally, what do you do in the great big world? I don’t think it’s pretty–now, or later. Glad I’m not the only one who gets flustered, though–I feel I should be calm, cool and collected. There’s a print, somewhere (maybe Norman Rockwell?) of a mother telling off an umpire at a Little League game. She’s my hero.
Awesome post! Beautifully written!!
“We want to rush children. We want them to spit it out already…”
My son has been an angel at school. That is until this week. He has gotten into trouble every day this week and we don’t know why. My husband and I are trying to be patient with our five year old, but thank you for the reminder to slow down. He’ll tell us when he’s ready to. I want him to know that, when he’s ready, I’ll be listening!
Your son is kind hearted, thoughtful, and protective. Loved this post.
Yes! This made me applaud you, friend! This is the heart of the Father for his children. He gave us an advocate, he’s given your boys one. Aren’t we meant to do this at every level of life? And the home is the most important the first step and from there we interpret as we go out. Giving voice to those who don’t have and in turn infusing them with value and worth.
You’re boys are blessed.
You teach me. Thank you, Lisa Jo
Wonderfully written. And you’ve just put in words what I was sharing with a young teenage friend of my own earlier this week. We must understand that it truly is a sacred duty to speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves. Whether they have shut down through incapacity, inability or injustice, we must remember to build bridges for them and not shut doors.
Thank you.
I’ve thought a lot about this post this weekend. I learned on Friday that my son is being bullied on the bus ride home. They have assigned seats and the kid who sits with him take his things every single day. My son always gets them back before getting off so I never suspected anything. I found about all this because the kid wrote his name (in ink!) on the cover of my son’s book. My older son was unable to speak up for his brother because he sits too far away and would get in trouble for getting out of his seat.
Yes, I will speak up for him! I hope that this experience will show my children that they never need to fear telling me things because I WILL take care of them. If they are wrong, I will tell them so. If they are wronged, I will do everything in my power to take care of them. I am one fierce mama when I need to be! :)