We’re three weeks into our journey of bringing the boys home for learning. And learning we have been doing.
There’ve been heavenly days. And super bumpy ones.
Melissa decided to take the boys to a local Bible study group that had a dedicated class for homeschool kids. Maybe make some new friends. Maybe hear some other big people tell them God loves them. Should be a win-win.
Our nugget number two was not having it.
Last week, Melissa reported that as they were leaving the class, he announced for all to hear that he would not be returning.
I mean, I have to respect his clarity.
His exact words were, “They didn’t appreciate me.”
What does that mean? No, seriously, what kind of appreciation are you expecting to receive?
We were driving back home from a trip this weekend, and we were finally able to tease out some of last week’s events (thanks to Nugget Number One).
I’m not complaining about having an older child reporter in the house. I was definitely the interpreter for my younger brother. Big air quotes around “interpreter.” Genetic.
We found out the teacher asked, “What are some of the ways that you learn about the love of God?” Nugget Number Two answered, “My mommy.”
First of all, that melted my heart. His mommy strengthens my faith in love and goodness, too.
Apparently, some of the kids in the class saw his answer as theologically unsound. I believe there was some laughter.
The teacher quelled this reaction, reminding them that each individual person experiences God in a different way.
Nugget Number One then said, “Hey, I have a question. Why would someone saying their mom helps them learn about God be something you laugh at? I thought that was a really good answer.”
Well done, Nugget Number One. Well done.
But all of a sudden, I understood deeply why his six-year-old heart accurately expressed, “They didn’t appreciate me.” They didn’t. He offered a vulnerable answer in a room full of kids he didn’t know. And they laughed. That would hurt my heart. (I mean, I’m still getting over some comments I heard about my parenting three weeks ago.)
But seriously, Bible class kids?
The point of this: our six-year-old knew exactly what happened, and he reported it accurately.
I knew that even if he didn’t get the details right, he was truthfully describing his experience. (But it sounds like he had the details pretty spot on.)
A lot of people go through life not being believed or taken seriously when they try to share that something bad happened. And when you’re a kid, it can disorient your whole world. Wait, did that happen? I guess I made it up, right? If it did happen, it was probably my fault.
Then you walk into adulthood, learning to ignore the signals your nervous system still tries to give you.
That twinge-y feeling in my gut probably doesn’t mean anything. I’ll stay around these people who are a little iffy.
I felt like that was probably a dig. I don’t think that comment was kind. Nah, I’m probably just reading too much into it.
Yeah, my shoulders are aching. My head’s pounding, and I feel like something is leaking energy somewhere in my body. But I probably just need more coffee and to lock in more.
We do this in our artistic training as well. We ignore unsustainable discomfort. We discount signals our body sends us. We even let questionable training methods slide because we think it’s just the way it is. We don’t ever stop and think, “Wait, is there another way to do this that might be sustainable, efficient, free, and joyful?”
I can still recall several instances in my career when people in leadership roles said inappropriate things to me, and I just told myself, “Well, that’s just what people do in the theater.”
Our body does send us important information, and it’s never too late to start listening. As someone who had cut off complete access to mine, (and even felt physically ill when teachers would encourage me to go into the body) I’m telling you it’s possible and worth it.
I talk about proprioception and misread signals in a slightly different way in this week’s video, specifically the difference between twang and nasality, and how easy it is to go down the wrong path when we don’t quite understand what we’re feeling or hearing yet.
Most of all today, I hope you remember there’s only one you, and somebody would love to hear the story only you can sing.
Love much,
Dan
P.S. If you want a clearer way to understand what your body and voice are actually doing so you don’t have to guess or override those signals, that’s exactly why I built The Voice Map. It’s a systems-based way to understand how everything works together so you can trust what you’re feeling and make better choices faster.