Are we to think a masterpiece creates itself? Does it not require moulding and maintenance to obtain or maintain mastery?
Our two youngest sons have a lot to talk about regarding life. Everyday is filled with moments to question, reason, reflect on, share about and then, of course, because they are indeed, uniquely reflective human species like the rest of us, complain about.
Having recalled fond memories of talks I had at this age with our older three, I try my best to just absorb what each have to say no matter how retired my body already is from my own day or how many thoughts have inundated my mind; I use my heart and spirit to pull me through.
Just recently, after school, our youngest had that look on his face whereas to suggest, “Ask me how my day was so I can tell you.” I got the cue and dared ask.
Not the first (and predictively, not the last), he expressed how his brother hurt his feelings at school again. What do you know, they were playing Floor Square (what ever happened to Four Square?) and his brother, having elected himself as the referee, suggested he was cheating. To add, others began to verbally agree.
(You have to understand, these are our fourth and fifth children. While I’d like to think I’m getting better at listening, I have yet to master these, what I feel, are moments no one wins. One will be hurt while the other will feel empowered. At rare times, the balance is beautiful, no one seemingly having won, but no one hurt either. This was not one of those moments.)
I thought I did pretty well in reminding the younger brother that his brother would only mean to help him, not hurt him. If in the case his brother suggested he was cheating, that probably was witnessed as the case and this would have been a great moment for him to reflect, correct, and redo to redeem himself. I soon found out, the rules in the game of Floor Square was not truly the case here.
As Dr. Phil would suggest in the past, what we argue about is usually not the actual reason we complain; the feelings are much deeper than what we are seemingly expressing to disagree with or dislike. And, there it was.
The alleged cheater was hurt that his brother was agreeing with others, an attack that I get is more hurtful from a brother than any other.
All were on the other side, attacking one. On that opposing side, standing with the rest, stood the self-elected referee, the brother. It could have been two against the world- this would have been fine because one would have the support of the other. However, one was left to vouch for himself with his very own brother having felt to aim the “guilty” target on him, too (who apparently initiated the idea).
Learning to express his feelings, the alleged began to quite succinctly preach his emotions. And then, while he was at it, he must have thought, “Why not use the time to really get it all out?”
Speaking to me, but with brother next to him in the car, as we were getting ready to drive off, the alleged claimed that his brother acts different when he’s at home. At school, he tries too much.
I knew what he meant. We all knew what he meant. He was not referring to classroom work (although my children naturally do this without discussion). He was referring to being liked by others. I got it as the words were being spoken.
There was silence. Self-elected referee brother had no rebuttals. I have become too familiar with this silence; that flabbergasted silence. There was truth spoken and hearing it was painful.
I didn’t have to turn around to see that the self-elected referee was silently shedding tears. I knew he was. The alleged must have felt it if not seen what I assumed because silence was thickening in the air. The self-elected referee was now looking right out toward his tinted window side, clearly hiding his face as he gazed outward in utter silence.
This was a moment of growth. A moment of reflection and healing had to be given time. So, I gave just that.
The two brothers had to work this one out. Thankfully, in their silence, they did. The alleged waited for space and time to have its moment of satisfaction until I heard him quietly ease back into talking to his brother. I continued to provide both space and time, butting out from the process.
The ride home was quiet all the way to parking in the garage and to their separate rooms. My husband, home, waiting for us, having gone through so many ups and downs with our kids together, immediately asked if everything was okay. He understood the no response. He joined in on the unspoken request for silence.
It was probably sometime after half an hour had passed when I felt my heart quietly fill with peace and joy just as soon as I saw the self-elected referee come down to the kitchen where I was, humming to himself. He was back to his own self. I did nothing more than give the top of his head a kiss and told him I loved him. (I was glad the gesture was not rejected because with growing children and their hormones, you just never know.)
I see and understand this immense desire to always be in the right as well as do what is right. And yet, the world can cause friction between both, creating difficulty and challenge for balance within.
The self-elected referee did not allow that unspoken rule of brotherhood to get in the way of honor in honesty. The alleged cheater went straight for honor in loyalty. Daggers were definitely thrown. Pain was surely felt. From a mother’s vantage point, attacks and hurt had been faced and endured on both sides.
To what degree should we stand to be right? To the point of resistance or disapproval? To what extent should one think to do right? To the point of breaking bonds?
As children, were we not carefree about the world, self-centered throughout our becoming? Did we not excitedly embrace each step as a journey to new discoveries to add onto all that we celebrated in having acquired already? And then, one correction of our thoughts, actions, and expressions after another, as we must encounter interaction with others around us, we are given awareness of limitations, forced to reflect upon our own actions, deemed as right or wrong.
The complete you, prepackaged with uniquely given chromosomes, slowly picks up one doubt after another until there is this acquired impression that there are many pieces of you still missing to be picked up or found. And yet, is there truth in this? Were pieces actually lost or simply, let go?
Is letting go of childish things the same as losing a part of you? Correcting one’s thought process or behavior- does this require losing a part of you? Is it not possible to become stronger and better in heart, mind, body, and spirit throughout the process of correction? Must we lose anything of us to change?
While a beautiful fabric sewn into an elegant dress requires pieces to be cut out, do we?
While flower arrangements for all eyes to gaze upon need be cut at the stem, must we?
While trees growing all around us lose branches to grow more, should we?
Would a masterpiece remain so if altered?
Could we simply see ourselves as clay being molded, smoothened out within every rotation or process we must go through to finally arrive at that finished work of who we were meant to be?
Did not Koby Bryant state he was terrible at basketball when he attended camp at the age of ten? Dare anyone suggest he finished the same? Did he have to lose anything of himself to become one of the known greatest?
That free heart, mind, body, and spirit inner you faces trials and tribulations. However, should we grow incompetent as we face hardship from others showing disapproval? Are we not to self-reflect to simply ask of ourselves what needs to be smoothened out, not lost?
Should that inner joy, that time of innocence of embracing the world be severed from being part of us just because adjustments must be made? Do adjustments imply incompletion of one’s self or just a daily work in progress to do better and be better?
How long are we in that mindset of searching for missing pieces before finally, we tire of the search? When do we arrive to that ultimate moment of embrace to peace and knowing that being molded does not equate to being altered?
Could it be that the world’s approval will never be full only because somehow we have all been led to equate work in progress as lack? Have we been convinced that working on ourselves should suggest we are not good enough? After all, does not a masterpiece come into existence having first had work put into it as a process?
We must understand that while each of us were proportioned pot of clay, complete with all that we need to mould into that masterpiece granted us, we must still smoothen out parts, bend and twist some corners, to get to the very unique piece we were meant to be.
Is it not okay to be corrected so as long as not maimed?
We need that referee to call us out when we essentially aren’t playing by the rules. And yes, it may be at times where we will have to disagree with the one calling us out. Still, the accountability to accept should be, is the claim true? If so, how should we right the wrong?
We need that alleged cheater to also remind us that being right and doing right has to have certainty as false claims could create irreparable damage. And yes, it may be you who needs to stop and question your own character. The alleged cheater may very well be innocent.
The daily drive to the finished work of our individual makeup, paused with sleep in between to continue to arrive to the next day until the next, is not an easy road. Why are we to make each other feel tempted to believe we should lose part of ourselves to make improvements? Isn’t that planted mindset what leads us to feeling incomplete?
As I have mentioned before in a previous article, the moment my children started school, I feared what would be fed into their hearts, minds, and spirits. While I corrected their behaviors and characters at home, emphasizing goodness and love, I knew I could not control all that the world would have each face.
I can be angry at my children’s choices, but as children, I have loved each no matter what. The world just isn’t as so.
With our last two commingling with the world, I know they are in the midst of facing trials and tribulations of how to become. I can only hope, with my husband having been beside me along the way, to have created a solid foundation for all our children that it should never be what to become.
