This morning while still sitting in bed I heard Celie, while
she was playing pretend beside me, telling her Snoopy “It’s okay, honey, s’nothing be
‘fraid of.” It is in the tiny moments
like these that I feel proud as a mother, like she actually IS absorbing some
of the things I struggle to teach her, the things I desperately try to push
into the chaotic ADHD toddler sponge that is my daughter. Usually it’s something deeper that I then
realize she actually DOES understand, and that is so touching and refreshing to
me, because sometimes in the bowels of the battle of wills and ye olde discipline
game, it’s hard to know if you are being heard, let alone listened to. I love that Celie has started into the
imaginary play stage. It’s fascinating
to watch when she really gets into it and forgets that I’m watching. When she plays, she’s in essence “passing it
on”---playing telephone with my words.
Those stuffed animals are in theory my future grandchildren, and I take
comfort in the fact that she is already soothing them and assuring them that
there is “nothing to be afraid of”.
Celie has been “scared” since early on in her existence, a
year or two ago she started verbalizing being scared. She’s an odd kid. She sees “Ameet” and Shadows and is scared a
lot. Not in a debilitating kind of way,
she is still mighty curious and brave, but she has always been a little
funny. A couple of months ago around 2:30 in the morning she woke up freaking out
and screaming about “shadows” and them “touching her stomach”. She wasn’t entirely awake but pointing and it
actually got me freaked out thinking like “HOLY SHIT WHAT’S THERE?” I assume she has some sort of night terrors,
which would explain her hatred of sleep and the process of falling into it,
although she still mentions these things randomly throughout her waking
day. Randomly. No rhyme or reason sometimes. “Oh, there go a shadows...” I’m dumbfounded. “Okay.”
What do you say to that? So
needless to say with seeing “Ameet” everywhere and shadows and stuff she is
“scared” a lot. I stewed over how to
deal with this for awhile. I didn’t want
her to be afraid, but I didn’t want to tell her nothing is there? What if there WAS something there? How the hell am I supposed to know what she
sees? So I don’t want to negate any
sensitivity she may have to such things because I force her into seeing things
in my reality. It’s possible. Anything is possible. So how was I supposed to deal with her fear
without simply dismissing it or neglecting her need for some true comfort? In the end, I chose to comfort her to the
best of my abilities, but instruct her to not be afraid of anything she
sees. “There is nothing to be afraid
of.” I know, right? Why am I blatantly lying to my child like
this at such a young age? In the
darkness of a crazy world like the one in which we live, I perhaps would
receive criticism because I chose to tell her that there is nothing to be
afraid of. There is plenty to be afraid
of, but is there really? We should be
cautious of many things and be careful, but being fearful, I have found in my
life experience, isn’t too beneficial. I
don’t want my daughter to be afraid. I
want her to feel her fear and recognize it, but not feel guilty for being
afraid. I want my child to understand
that fear is not a desired emotion or state of mind; it’s a bridge to
faith.
I remembered a conversation I had with my Grandmother at her
house, just before she was going in for one of her many surgeries, this time to
amputate part of the leg that she had previously had several surgeries on trying
to save. I was sick with fear and worry,
but struggled with not letting it show to this woman, this incredibly strong
and faithful woman. “I’ve never been
afraid,” she told me that day. I
marveled over that. “You’ve never been
afraid going into any of your surgeries?”
“No,” she replied, lowering her eyes and shaking her head, slightly
nodding at the same time. "It's God's will," she said. The corners of
her mouth rose into the small, humble grin of self pride and she beamed; to me
that was more beautiful than Mona Lisa’s smile.
Gram's self-pride didn't come from the fact that she wasn't afraid or was so brave, herself. You could tell it was REALLY in the fact that she knew she was teaching by example...every second of her life. She was teaching you not to be afraid...by not being afraid. I couldn’t prevent a teary-eyed good-bye, even after her reassurance; I
was still unnerved by the whole ordeal and the fear of a surgery of such
gravity on a woman of her age. I just
remember how brave she was in the face of it, batting not an eye, eternal smile
still on her face. Who knows if my
Grandmother was putting on her straight face like I was trying to do, for the
benefit of those around her, but honestly, you got the impression from Leona
Cecelia that she walked her walk. She practiced what she preached, and she
believed in her heart of hearts that whatever happened---it was God’s
will. To a woman of high faith, such as Leona,
this removed all fear from her. Whatever is to be, will be. Life will unfold. What
is there to possibly fear when you know that it will all work out, regardless---regardless
of ANYTHING? This is what faith is, folks; believing in something, no matter
what the consequences. Believing that
there is NOTHING to be afraid of. We can
feel our fear, learn from it, use it to grow, use it as a warning, etc. but
when it comes down to it, if you believe it is all in the hands of the
Universe---then there is NOTHING to be afraid of. That’s where my Grandmother lived, sitting safe
and snug with that everlasting smile in the palm of God.
You can’t teach faith.
I will never be able to exactly convey or pass on to Celie my reverence
for religion, value of positive thinking or faith, because I learned it first
hand from having this woman in my life...through example.
I could never set such a strong and positive example. Maybe that is why I feel like such a failure at times. I struggle with wanting Celie to truly understand my beliefs and get my
good parts. This is the only way I know
how. In little lessons that I hope my
daughter is paying attention to. Some
seeds don’t sprout for years, but it’s important to have faith that they are
planted. I’ll never forget what my
grandmother said that day, and it came to mind this morning as I watched my
daughter comfort her “friends”, assuring them that there’s nothing to be afraid
of. She was practicing the example she will someday set. Grandma has successfully, in essence,
“passed it on” down to her great-great-grand animals. A lesson in faith and fear that she taught me
is in turn teaching my children and will someday, God willing, be passed on to my children’s
children. That’s one mighty legacy. That would definitely make her smile.
No comments:
Post a Comment