“We have working hands.”
I grew up believing that the busy person is the most productive person and being still should not come until all the work is done. All of it.
How I love it … And how it kills me a little every day when I fall terribly far short of all that needs to be done.
One afternoon not long ago, I stood at the front window, looking out over the front yard. A small boy in his puffy blue winter coat and red Spider-Man hat methodically lifted chunks of snow and ice off the grass, stacking them neatly in a pile on the sidewalk.
My daily routine suggests that the kids should get off the school bus, unpack their back packs, do any necessary homework or house chores, and then we stop to take a breath. My joy is in the “getting it done”.
Whether it’s personality, brain injury, or both, Chase can’t always handle the constant movement and input that comes with my style of productivity. To him, it is a vicious bombardment. And in those times where his brain shuts down as my parental arrogance revs up, the two of us struggle over every single thing. My home becomes a battleground littered most pointedly with aborted teachable moments.
So, that afternoon, when he asked me if he could play outside after the bus pulled away, I could feel the struggle. I wanted him to come in and keep going. I wanted to be somewhere other than standing at the window watching to make sure he was safe and well. I didn’t want to be still. But I said yes.
This is one way Chase helps me.
Because of who he is and how he best functions, I am forced to weigh down the moments and consider each interaction so very carefully — even more than I do with my other children. (though in all fairness, I should do it with them as well)
Do I ask Chase to do something because it is right, or do I ask him to do something because it is right for me?
Productivity is wonderful, thoughtful dialogue and parent-child boundaries are so necessary, and there will always be moments when we’ll need to do battle, but that winter afternoon was not one. For my desire to say no stemmed not from his best interest, but from mine.
So I stood at the window with my tea, taking a deep breath and actually looking around me as I stepped out of the hurry for a time. And then he looked up at me and grinned and I could see that what had felt like a compromise to me had actually been a great victory.
Sometimes being still is the most active thing we can possibly do.
Moment by moment.
