Giving our children the space to dream

A few weeks ago, my 14 year-old son confided in me some of his singing aspirations for high school.

Given that I'm perpetually daring people to dream, you'd think I'd have let out a whoop and a holler.  I didn't.  Not even close.  In fact, rather than asking him how I could help, I began to rattle off reasons why his goals might be difficult to achieve.  Though well-intentioned, rather than shielding him from disappointment, I only managed to send the message that I didn't believe in him -- just as I had done four years ago.  So much for disappointment damage control.

A day or two later, I realized that while I may have an inkling as to my son's possibilities, I don't have the whole picture.  I apologized to him, acknowledging that no matter how much I love him, and think I know what's best, ultimately only he, with providential help, can know.  That I really don't know was further underscored when I saw David play the role of Jean Valjean (Les Miserables) in the St. Peters' school play.  Truly, I was blown away.  Not only did he sing and act better than I expected, in seeing him on the stage, my perception of him shifted.  I saw him as his own person.  Not just the kid who sleeps, watches TV, and doesn't pick up his clothes, but as someone who can make a difference in his own right.

It is so tempting to mandate our children's dreams, and then to live vicariously through them. All of us do this at least a little.  But when we can gently remind ourselves to pull back, letting our children dream their own dreams, they can as Abigail Adams said "fill their circle marked by heaven." And we, as their parents, will have the inestimable privilege of bearing witness to their lives.

If your children are older, do you remember the moment when you first realized that they were real people, unexpectedly competent and unique?

P.S.   In retrospect, it is also remarkable that our daughter would not have auditioned for the play without the encouragement of David.  Sure he teases her mercilessly, but he believed in her.  It was lovely, small miracle.

Comments

[amy jo]

I'm so grateful you've continued your Sunday postings! I loved this story. I sat in front of David one Sunday and was blown away by his beautiful voice. Listening him sing with you was a lovely duet amidst the crowd. Good for him. Better for you.

[Account Deleted]

Whitney, thank you for sharing your experience. I also really liked the post that you wrote four years ago (linked from this post in second para). I realized how in our efforts to encourage and protect our children, we sometimes end up discouraging them and conveying less than full trust. The words, "don't be discouraged if you don't get it" doesn't help anyone!

The lessons are so important for all of us as parents. Thanks.

[Julia]

I see myself in this post. I have done the same thing and am a recovering 'shielder'. I like Abigail's image of filling in the circle. As I was struggling with 'helping' a friend asked me: "do you believe God has a plan for [insert child]?" (rhetorical) "Is YOUR plan better?"

[Matt Langdon]

Wow, I actually remember that post from years ago.

I am curious to see how I handle the temptation to gently push my girl into all the things I'd love her to do.

[Maria]

Great post! So wonderful how you apologized and admitted your error.

[Elizabeth Keeler]

Well I don't have any kids, and still feel like a kid myself (even at 30..ha!) Still, it's amazing the power that comes from one perceived "adult" in your life saying: "Yes, you can do that, I believe in you." It gives you permission to try. Subsequent failure is inevitable I suppose...but so satisfying to try and fail! And one person's belief kick-starts the whole human process. Funny that I still need permission sometimes. Maybe someday I'll get past that.

PS this blog has become a secret delight in my secret garden (a place to escape to out of the mundane)...thanks!

[Michelle Anthony]

Thank you so much for posting this, Whitney. It's interesting to think that in trying to save our children form hurt, we can hurt them none-the-less. What strikes me is that this can feel defeating (damned if you do, damned if you don't), or enlightening, depending on how you decide to integrate it. Which is something I have been thinking about a lot lately: how we integrate our experiences and the internal dialogue we choose to engage in around them. Thanks, as always, for the different vantage point!

[Lisle]

I heard that the production was amazing, and that David was incredible. Wish I could've seen it. I think it's wonderful of you even to realize what you're doing when you talk to your children--so many of us don't think about the conversation after it's passed. Or we do, but don't know what to say to make it better. Good for you for communicating at all, whether or not you get it perfect the first time!