I'm fine

Addison, Noah, and I went on a little hike in the hills behind his old school - the first school he attended when we moved to California. I love it when Addison has no one and nothing to distract him and only me to talk to. Sometimes I get this stream of consciousness from him which lets me in on the things I'm always trying to drag out of him... Am I ruining your life by doing this or that? Are you scarred forever by such and such? About halfway through our hike we walked directly behind the playground of his former school. I asked him what he remembered about it. He started spouting about ball closets, frog ponds, and hiking trails. It seemed to be a mix of all of the playgrounds from all of the schools he has attended. I let him keep talking and he started to reminisce about all sorts of things-

Remember when I got to eat lunch with the principal because I won some award? (Sort of... yeah, I think so). Remember when Travis and Michael and I were standing by that backstop and Travis told me I had to say a bad word to join his club but I refused and Michael said the bad word? (Yep. I've heard that story and I'm still proud of you). Hey! They changed the glider. It goes twisty now. (No, I think it's the same. You're thinking of the one at your other school).

Mostly I just nodded and uh-huhed. The less I talk, the more he will. As we walked, he continued a trip through his memories and started going back to things I never realized he would remember-

Remember when Dominic's mom forgot to pick us up at school? Remember how that one kid's little sister bit me when I went to play at his house? Remember when we used to go sledding on the hill by grandma's house?

Yep, I remembered all of those things. While he was talking I wanted to ask him about each memory. Were you traumatized by being left at school? Did your friend's mom make sure you were ok when that little brat bit you? Are you devastated all the time that you don't live by your grandparents? How did you feel? What could I have done differently? What do you need me to do to make everything ok???

He started talking about the trumpet he wants to buy, and said,

A: Do you remember when we used to go clean the music store at night?

Me: Yep.

A: I loved that.

I had to stop walking. Was he kidding? I looked at him and asked him if he was serious. He seemed totally confused by the question. He told me about the hall he played with his "guys" in, the pianos he pounded on, the movies he got to bring, and treats from the treat box.

I thought back to that time in our lives. I was working whatever job I could find to make things work; mostly things where I could bring Addison along because I didn't want to leave him and at the time leaving him home wasn't an option. Our family had worked at this music store forever and my mom and I cleaned it after-hours. It was winter, so it was always miserable to leave my warm house and drag my 5 year old out at bedtime. He would ALWAYS cry and ask to stay home, but he wouldn't stay without me and I couldn't leave him at home. The job was a pain. I started out doing it alone but got too scared to be in that big music store myself, so my mom started coming with me. We had to clean gross bathrooms, dust endless pianos, and vacuum several rooms that were bigger than my entire house. The store was so big that Addison couldn't stay in one place and always have his eye on me, which he really needed at that time. We'd bring a little DVD player and he would drag it from one big room to another. I remember getting frustrated with him more often than I should have when he would whine and want to follow me. I would tell him not so lovingly that he was fine. It was such a pain to cart his toys, DVD player, treats around with us, and I ended up spending even more time cleaning up after him. Some areas of the store were really dark and a little scary. In the recital hall there wasn't really anywhere for him to play while I vacuumed so he had to sit out in this dark narrow hallway and play. We all hated when it was time to clean the recital hall. I had to gather up chairs, vacuum, put them back. It took forever and knowing my son was scared and sad made it worse. The whole situation is a bad memory for me, and I assumed if he remembered it at all, he wouldn't look back fondly on it either.

When he started talking about his memories of that time, it really floored me. I'm so sure all the time that I'm ruining Addison's life. I got divorced. I moved away. I make him work hard. I'm too hard on him. I don't let him play the video games he wants to. I don't buy him the toys he asks for. The thing is, I'm giving myself too much credit. I may very well be doing everything possible to unintentionally ruin this kid's life; but when it comes down to it, he's a really good kid. I'm pretty sure he'll succeed in spite of me.

I thought about the kind of trust that this little person is putting in me. He believes that I can get him where he needs to go. He believes that I'm always going to do him right. He believes that I have things figured out. It kind of scares me. Sometimes I am completely overwhelmed by the responsibility of giving him what he needs to succeed and be happy. I am sure I don't have don't have it in me. I know, however, that he has it in him. Luckily, he believes in me believing in him and it's enough to make him see life as something he can do and do it well.

I wonder how many times Heavenly Father has told me, "You're fine," and I wonder how many times I have actually listened. I can look back on times when I was sure I wasn't fine, and I realize now that I was. I'm probably better for having gone through them. During those times of change and trial and confusion, I want to realize that I am fine and on the way to becoming refined. Like Addison, I want to trust that while I don't believe I'm going to make it through, someone who knows better knows that I will. I want to look back on those refining experiences with gratitude. I want to face them while they're upon me with faith.

When Addison and I got back to the car, I put Noah in his car seat and asked Addison to buckle him up. As I was walking around to the front, Noah started to wiggle and fuss.

"You're fine, little monster." Addison told him.

I hope he believes it.