An Internal Compass

Sharing Saturday  

Earlier this summer I rode downtown on the Metro with the mom of one of my teen son's friends. We have known each other since our boys were in kindergarten together but haven't seen each other in a while. We settled quickly into a catch-up conversation.

I learned that her youngest son was doing pretty much what my oldest is doing this summer – being bored before he leaves for camp. She shooed him out of the house and told him to go volunteer and so he is now cutting up vegetables at a local shelter. Her daughter is heading off to a gap year before college, and her oldest son is doing well, living with a nice group of friends and working at a job he loves.

I actually have often thought of her oldest son, a funny and smart kid who babysat for my kids when they were much younger. He showed up at our house one evening with neon pink Mohawk, spiked at least two feet up off his head. My kids thought he was awesome.

About four years ago, this son graduated from high school and decided not to go to college. In our high achieving, college-bound community, this was sacrilege. I have long remembered my conversation with the mom at that time, and the pain in her voice as she described what her son was doing. It was a moment that has stuck in my head like a broken record, as I've watched my own son start to take some missteps as he walks the fine road between high school success and failure.

But this time she had nothing but pride in her voice as talked about her oldest son. He has been earning his own living since he was 18. How many college students can boast that, even after graduation? He has a lovely girlfriend, nice friends, and is working at something he loves.  He is about to take a trip with their church to El Salvador, where he and his sister are helping to establish a sister city volunteer program.  He is happy and productive.

What more can a mother ask for?

We talked about my teen, who she has known for a long time. She assured me that he is a really nice kid, which is the most important starting point. I relayed my fears about his slipping grades, some attitude issues. But I also told her that this same son has decided this summer, of his own accord, that he needs to learn some life skills. He has learned how to shave. He has started to do his own laundry. He wants to learn how to cook. He's washing our windows to earn some extra money. He went away to camp for the first time.

I remember that this is also the same kid who actually has two jobs during the school year – babysitting and as an assistant teacher at our synagogue. He was recently elected to an office position in his Jewish youth group. And he has been learning piano in school, and practices without being nagged.

Maybe it's not all so off course as I think.

I told her that I thought about her oldest son often, and that hearing about him today was a joy. I told her about how I've been getting sick with worry when I sit on the sidelines of my younger kids' team sports and engage in destructive, competitive conversations, masquerading as information sharing, about schools and kids and grades and achievement. I told her that it's so hard to be a parent in our community with a child who is not following the program.

She told me that living through those conversations was for her the hardest part of her son's decision not to go to college, and she had to accept that her stories to tell were going to be different from those of her friends.

Then she told me that her son has always had his own internal compass, and that it has guided him well.

That was a click moment for me.

From the day he was born, my oldest also has had his own internal compass. He has always waited until he was absolutely ready to try anything. He didn’t crawl until he was one; he didn't walk until he was 18 months and he didn't talk until he was almost two. He waited to play sports, he waited to read, he waited to decide to go to sleep away camp. For heaven's sake, he didn't even lose his bellybutton cord until he was six weeks old. We were already sick with worry, consulting the baby books, wondering why it wasn't coming off.  Little did we know. 

But he has, at 15, already traveled half way around the world by himself. He has made his own decisions about what classes to take in school. He does his own work and suffers the consequences of his (in)actions. He shops for himself, cleans up after himself (most of the time) and manages his own schedule and his own life.

By the end of our 20-minute ride together, I felt like I had been through a therapy session. Not only was I amazed by the power of two moms cramming hours of intensive conversation into a quick, 20-minute train ride, I was once again struck by the realization that each of us has this one wild, precious, magnificent life. It is up to each of us to chart our own paths. And we each need a compass to guide us.

My worries about my son's zigzags over the course of his life are what come with the territory of being his mother. The question of college is a looming issue - I don't know where that road will lead.But his internal compass seems to be keeping him on a path so far that is interesting, smart, curious, exasperating and fulfilling. 

I just hope that it keeps pointing north, heading for the stars.

Photo by psd via Flickr

Comments

[Stacy]

Breathless, Karen. What a wonderful way of framing your own struggle and tying it back to reality.

[Linda Keely]

I very much appreciated reading your insights and have always appreciated your son!

[Rachel Gertzog]

Karen, Thank you for articulating exactly how I've been feeling for the past year. Our children are rarely exactly who we want them to be, but then they teach us a new way to gain perspective and we become who we want ourselves to be.

[Comrade Kevin]

I think at times we confuse self-esteem with self-worth. Parents often want to boost their children's self-esteem, without understanding that self-worth comes from paving one's own path and conquering adversity by oneself without assistance from anyone.

[Scott Sommer]

These days, you often go through J, K, and L en route from A to B. Seems like your big guy is well grounded for his years and on a good track.