The gift of knowing and hearing one’s worth and value is priceless. Learned that lesson in living color again this week.
Ever since my junior tribe members were toddlers, I would take them out for lunch on their birthday. Just the two of us. Always right on the day…unless it was a weekend, and then we’d pick the closest weekday…part of the fun is taking a longer lunch break from school with no purpose greater than to celebrate the life of the child.
The location was the child’s choice. There were years that we went to McDonald’s, or Dairy Queen…or a pizza buffet. The latter got a little tricky as it seemed that part of the fun was to eat one’s age in pizza slices…and a stomach cannot keep up with age. As they have gotten older, their tastes have shifted to something a little less pizza/burgerish.
So, on Wednesday, I took my junior tribe member to Cora’s…a great place for lunch. And we sat down and she took our order…and then I gave him 2 gifts. One was a pair of headphones…seems like a kid never has exactly the right electronics equipment. Then I held my breath as I handed over the second package.
The second package was special…at least to me. But I didn’t know what it would mean to him. Let me explain.
I am not a “therapist” to friends and family…I’m just ordinary me…but who I am–what I believe in, how I relate to others, and what I am passionate about is shaped by my profession (just as my work is shaped by who I am). So…occasionally friends will tease me when I notice themes, or want to mark something in a meaningful way, or want to process something that would pass others by without comment.
I have always thought it important to mark significant occasions…to create memories with celebration, to have ritual to mark time…to create significant and meaningful memories that become part of family lore, and that connect us closer. Many cultures have rituals or rites around “coming of age”…when a boy becomes a man…the transition from childhood to adulthood. Some do it at 13, some at 16, 18 or 21. That transition is a significant event with huge practical and emotional implications for family dynamics…and our Western culture has no way of marking it…save perhaps, taking a brand new 18 year old to the bar for the first time.
I wanted to create something that would help my tribe member remember this coming of age…something that he would look back on and know he had the support of family and community as he moves forward with greater independence, something to hold and gaze on to remember who he was and where he came from…in times when he might feel lost and lonely. We all have those times as adults…and I thought this birthday could be a great opportunity to create a lasting legacy of love for him. There are components of a bar mitzvah that do this that I have long admired.
So, I invited about 25 close friends, family, coaches and other important figures in the junior tribe member’s life to contribute a short bit of writing that would:
- Aknowledge a gift or attribute in him that they noticed and admired
- Appreciate the relationship with him.
- Encourage him with wisdom imparted specifically to him in light of how they knew him
- Inspire and challenge him to continue to grow
I went to Photobin.com and created a book filled with the pages of
- what they sent me, along with
- photos of the people who wrote things,
- photos of the junior tribe member at various stages of his life
- …and wrote a forward and a conclusion letting him know that he had been and is a blessing to many because he is who he is.
So…it came in the mail well before the appointed day, and it looked fabulous. The quality of the book itself was terrific…and reading the caring words of one dear person after another—well, tears came to my eyes.
I was super pumped about how it turned out, and the incredibly important gift this was going to be.
As it got closer to the birthday lunch, I started preparing myself to be realistic…and actually kinda got cold feet. I’m giving this to an adolescent boy who doesn’t like to read…who would rather play a pick up game with whatever ball is handy than talk about his feelings. He’d much more typically crack a joke or play a trick, than ponder the meaning of life. Typical boy really…and so I recognized that it was quite likely that this book might not be truly appreciated for all the specialness of what others had written…that it might be years before he would understand the significance of what was on those pages.
I figured it was a possibility he might flip through the pages in a couple of minutes, skim a few highlights, and let me know he’d read it later (and knowing he might, or might not). I knew that as a gift, he was free to receive it in a way that was authentic to him, and so I needed to be chill about however he received it.
He opened it and looked at it…and said with delight, “That’s me, on the cover”. And he held it, and slowly opened the first page, and spent a minute or two looking at the introduction, before slowly turning it over.
He read the first message on next page…first, quickly looking to the bottom to see who wrote it. And he said, “These people wrote something for me and you put it here? Is the whole book like this?”
I nodded.
Then, he read it.
This boy who doesn’t like to read, slowly soaked up every line. He luxuriated in the reading of the words. After he looked a bit at the pictures on the opposing page, he turned the page slowly, and read the next one…just as carefully and deliberately.
After about 4 pages, lunch came…and he put it aside.
He got his crepe with strawberries and nutella…and said, “If you want a bite, help yourself now, because it’s gonna disappear fast.”
I figured he was starving. (and it was good!)
But it wasn’t about his hunger…he inhaled his lunch fast and immediately said, “Can you take this plate on your side of the table?” to free up a clean space and he pulled the book out again. I barely made a dent in my salad and he was back at reading the book.
While I was nibbling and he was silently reading, I heard him sniffle. It wasn’t cold in the restaurant, and he wasn’t sick…and after a minute or two, I realized he was tearing up over what was written. He was trying to be unobtrusive about it…but eventually he grabbed the napkin just before the tear would splash on the page.
He was completely silent, saying nothing, as slowly and carefully he made his way through the book, weeping on and off (in a very understated, hoping-nobody-notices adolescent boy kind of way).
It felt like a holy space as he read.
He saw lines like:
- You are gifted
- You are loved
- You have been blessed with physical, intellectual and social gifts…
- Thanks for the times you have encouraged me.
- It has been a joy watching you grow into a young man.
- We love your sense of humor
- It is a true joy to have you as part of our family
- You are like the son I never head
- We cherish the memories of you…
- We love you and pray for you lots.
- My wish for you is that you would always be able to find your way home.
The waitress came by with a beautiful creation of fresh fruit and a sparkler to mark the occasion of his birthday. He looked at her sideways to thank her (I think he didn’t want her to see his red eyes) and then as soon as she left, he ignored the plate…he had not yet finished the book and he went back to reading it, as slowly and carefully as ever.
Savored every line.
He got it.
He realized the incredible gift those in his community have given him.
So often in our culture, the things that he has permanent record of in the book, to read for years to come, aren’t said about the person until they are remembered at the funeral.
Thank you to the folks in our lives who troubled themselves to respond to my request…who thought about what to say, and then wrote it down and sent it. It will be read for years to come.
We all need to hear messages of affirmation, love, caring, encouragement and inspiration.
We need ways of remembering them during times when we doubt ourselves and our worth.
As I wrote this blog, I went to go get the book…to be able to remember what was written…I went to the living room where he had it yesterday.
Couldn’t find it. Where could it be?
It was in his room.
This boy, who never puts anything away in his room, who leaves his stuff lying around all over the house consistently and constantly…had taken it to his room when he went to bed.
Priceless.
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