I was recently reminded of the importance of giving the soul space to speak. As a parent this is sometimes very difficult. As a parent who is an educator, it is hell.
I want what is best for my kids, but they are too young to get it. As the parent of an eight-grader who is transitioning to high school in the fall, this year has been especially challenging. For one, the schools don’t hold kids accountable and there are no consequences for not turning in work or failing exams. Second, thirteen-year-olds don’t understand balance. They are impulsive and focus shifts like the wind.
My son recently decided that his new guitar (he has only had it for a little over a month and has really only been intentional about playing guitar for a few months) didn’t have the right sound—something about one of the pickups. So, with little consideration and thought, my wife took him to Guitar Center and traded in his guitar for a more expensive one. I learned from a friend that, at least, he made a good choice. (It would appear that his need for a new guitar was somewhat driven by his adulation for Eddie Van Halen.)
I reached out to a couple of old friends about the guitar purchase and received a sounding board for my greater concerns, as well as confirmation about the guitar. My friends picked up pretty easily on the fact that my concerns had far less to do with the guitar and more to do with the path that it was taking my son.
I grew up quite balanced. One of my great childhood memories is changing into my little league football uniform in the Liberty Tunnels in Pittsburgh after art classes at Carnegie Museum. I was active in sports though never excelled at any. I had two lines in the high school musical in sixth grade as Charlie Bates in Oliver! (I was invited to join chorus in high school, though I thought that surely the chorus director realized I couldn’t sing—I declined because I was “an athlete” and had not realized that there were girls in chorus.) In many ways, I might have been too balanced to get good at anything.
Currently, guitar seems to be my son’s only focus. In sports and school, he seems to do just enough to get by. (In school, that has been very easy!) I admitted to one of my friends that at least some of my frustration is, in fact, jealousy. He has the looks, smarts, talent, and athleticism I would have killed for in high school. I don’t want him to have regrets. I don’t want him to squander the gifts he has been given. My friend told me several times: “Just let him figure it out.”
I am by no means a “helicopter” or “lawnmower” parent. I am much more “foot in the ass” like Red Foreman on That 70s Show. I need to be more shepherd-like and be guiding.
I have come to appreciate a concept I learned from reading Parker J. Palmer. I am learning to allow space for “the soul to speak”, both in parenting and in relationships. If I can just do this, “he’ll figure it out”.
One’s “it” may not be my “it”. That is the hard part. We want what is best for others, but what is “best” is not ours to decide. We can encourage. We must support. We have to hold others accountable. But, ultimately, they are their gifts to use or squander. This is perhaps why the parable of the talents is one of my favorites. (Of course, it is this affinity for the parable that causes me to sometimes push too hard.)
Allow space for the soul to speak. Just let him figure it out. This is good advice.
Be your best today; be better tomorrow.
Carpe momento!