"We are more alike, my friends, than we are unalike." ~Maya Angelou

Tuesday, February 10, 2015

My Heart's Prayer




   

 What could we become, to what heights ascend if our psyches remained whole, unscathed, wide open to possibilities, as they were when we were very young, before insults of all sorts reshaped us?
That is the question which troubles me, haunts me…breaks my heart, over and over.
     Taunting, belittling, injustice, misunderstandings, overreactions, lack of connection, anger, violence, impatience, all of these beat upon the innocent heart, the open emotions, the desire to trust, to believe. The wounds are much worse, and happen sooner and more consistently to the minds and hearts of children with any sort of communication or processing delay.
     Adults in positions of authority over children, which is most adults, have often forgotten that children think differently than adults. Children see things through the lens of only what they have learned or experienced. Adults come at them with twenty-five, thirty, fifty years of life experience and knowledge, while the child may be functioning on what can be learned in two years, or seven or ten. Add to that the myriad rules of cultural behavior which are completely random and vary even between groups as small as one household to another. How does one begin to make sense of it when there is no sense to it?

    What is required is unending patience, good listening skills, open ended questions, consistent gentle direction, more patience, a clarity of expectations and good humor, when that is possible.  Anger wounds like a knife. Humiliation sears like a hot iron and closes the heart and soul; sends it into hiding and takes as hostages, spontaneity, creativity and trust; those brightest gems of the spirit. What could we have become? What mysteries could we already have solved if so many gifted  little ones had not had the light stamped out too soon.
    I should let this go…or figure out what to do to make it better.
 Life is very short and so much time is wasted relearning the old lessons.
        May all that is holy, hear my prayer.

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