Crisis: Silliness Lost

Something about helping others during a crisis, big or small, seems to make me feel better about my own problems, especially when the person I'm helping is one of my kids. My 6-year-old is in the first grade, and he has been in love with a little girl since kindergarten. Let's call her "Sally." Sally has been the center of my son's attention for over a year now. Last Christmas, he came to me and told me he wanted to give her a Christmas present. I asked him what she liked, and he said, "Well, she wears bows in her hair." Done. We got her the most adorable Christmas bow. The kids aren't really supposed to exchange gifts, so on the day of the Christmas party at school, I took the little box over to Sally's mother and explained that it was important to my son that he give this little gift to her, and that was that. But he beamed with happiness. This year in school, when he found out that Sally was in his class, he was elated. Since the start of school, he's been telling me how he's finally going to speak to Sally and tell her that he likes her. I know what you're thinking.... Probably the same thing I was thinking.... He's six. How can he already "like" a girl?  Because he's my son. That's why. He's a feeler. I'm not saying he's not a fighter, but he most definitely is a lover. Heart of gold. Loves things fiercely. Emotional and empathetic. He's gonna make a great daddy one day. He's also silly. He loves to be loud and "uck-nah-shuss" (that would be obnoxious). He loves to dance and make people laugh. He likes pretending he's a rock star and puts on concerts for grandparents. He's also crazy smart. The boy just started first grade, and he can read. I don't mean his reading level is high. I mean he can read. Anything. Chapter books, road signs, store advertisements, magazines... He's wicked smart. But back to Sally... My son got in the car today. This is what followed: He says, "Mama, I need to tell you a story, and it's bad." My ears immediately perk. "What happened, buddy?" His head tilts downward, and he says, "Sally broke up with me." Ok. If I'm being honest, I want to immediately jump out of the car and beat up a little 30 pound first grader. But I contain my anger and try to calm my racing heart. He continues telling me the long story about what happended on the playground. As he tries really hard to steady his quivering lip, he says, "Mama. I've made a decision. I giving up my silliness. I lost it." Heart. Breaking. My heart is breaking again just remembering his words. I know what he means. We all do. Something bad happens - something that hurts us and makes us second guess who we are and how we are made. He's 6-years-old, and he gets this. He was sad. He felt rejected. His silliness is a big part of him - a big part of him that brings him happiness and happiness to others, so he thought. And he just didn't want that today. He thought he didn't want it ever, but I think he probably just felt that way today. He was sad. How can you be sad and still have your happiness (his silliness)? To him, it had to be given up. It is this point sitting in my car with him that I wished I had read all those parenting books I had meant to read. By now, my 5th grade daughter has made it to the car and has heard the tale end of his story and is consoling him by rubbing his little back. All I'm thinking is Here is your chance to show kindness to your son, Jessica! This is a teaching moment! Don't screw it up like you screw everything up! That's a lot of pressure. He is just right on the verge of crying. His head is resting on its side on the car window. This seems like a big deal to him. No. This is a big deal to him. "Hey, buddy? Do you know that I love you and Sissy loves you? And do you know that God made you exactly like He wanted you? He gave you your silliness. And do you know what your silliness is? It's your joy. Never let anybody take your joy because it's a gift from God. And when we're sad or feel lonely or when someone hurts our feelings, we don't feel like using our joy. We want to "give it up," as you said. Your joy comes from your heart, and your heart is hurting. But you know what? Use it anyway. Sometimes you just have to refuse to give it up and remind your heart about that joy." He just keeps staring out his window. I ask my daughter, "What's his favorite song right now?" "Moves Like Jagger," she says. Done. I crank "Moves Like Jagger" up so loud that I'm sure the other people in the parking lot can hear it blaring from my car. The magic happens slowly, but it happens. That little fella looked at me, his little body starting swaying, that little smile crept back to his lips, and pretty soon, he was full out laughing and doing the "sprinker" dance. We all were, with everyone in the parking lot watching. We reminded that little broken heart that our joy is here to stay. Giving it up is not an option. Not in my house. I'd love to say that I taught my son a great lesson in that car. Truth be told, sometimes you learn lessons best when you have to teach them to others. I learned the lesson today. As I heard the words I spoke to my son come out of my mouth, I felt so convicted. I let people take my joy all the time. It's easy to throw your hands up and give it up and just stare at a computer screen or lie in the bed with the covers over your head. I have many joys. The older I get, the more joys I discover God has given me. Next time my heart is hurt, I'm remembering this precious time I had in the car with my kids. I'm digging deep to find my joy. It may be playing the piano or writing or reading or singing or acting or knitting or cooking or playing with my kids or running. Or it might be sitting in a car doing the "sprinkler."