The word baggage was flung at me a few weeks ago by my daughter. I have not been able to flick that word off. I don’t know about you, but where we live there are these prehistoric-looking tiny creatures that are affectionately (not) called stink bugs. You don’t wanna kill them … hence you will experience the sole reason they are called stink bugs – so you flick ’em. The word “baggage” has adhered and I haven’t been able to flick it off.
So… the Lord is causing me to examine something, I suppose.
The definitions of baggage:
- personal belongings packed in suitcases for traveling; luggage:
- past experiences or long-held ideas regarded as burdens and impediments:
Yeah, okay, so that makes sense to me. We all know those definitions, right? Most of us have likely packed a bag for a trip or an overnight stay and have brought our “baggage”, our things with us for said trip.
And, yes, we all have dealt with our own “personal” baggage. Those things that we pack tightly in our souls as we journey through our lives. We know people who have so much “baggage” that they struggle to maneuver through life. Maybe it’s fear of setting the baggage down, maybe it’s fear of opening the proverbial baggage, maybe it’s the fact that the baggage they carry is almost a comfort.
But when the word was thrown at me recently, it was used in reference to our Bear. It was not her mom stating that she thought her daughter had baggage, but someone had said it out loud to her – as an attempt to clarify their position on an event that had transpired – as an attempt to cause her mother to understand that people may view our Bear differently because she has “baggage” that they may not want in their lives. Hmm. Hmm.
So, I know that I am a faith-filled, hope-full wife, mother, and grandmother – along with all those other familial titles one can carry – and I cling to Christ who alone allows me to function. But … I was pissed. I still want to stomp this person. Sorry about the language but it was true. Sometimes things get said to us that immediately pierce the heart. Oh man, it was like an arrow straight to the bullseye target. Someone who should absolutely KNOW better because they witnessed things had the gall – the audacity – the flat-out nerve to say she has baggage.
As they say on news channels all too often – and ironically it fits in this situation – let us unpack this statement. Our Bear is a teen. By the time she was 5 years old, she had been found in a court of law to have been neglected twice. Twice. Absorb that for a moment. For anyone familiar with early childhood development and brain function and growth, those first 5 years are nothing short of miraculous, and in those years, in my mind’s eye, the brain is malleable – kinda like the Play-Doh the Nugget and I have been using a little. As it’s forming, when neglect is present it does significant harm. But I have learned over time and through education and my circle of sisters, that the brain can be healed. We have worked on those things for years now. Years. But here is what I want to absolutely shout and rave from the rooftops: THIS CHILD DID NOT PACK HER OWN BAGGAGE! She had adults around her whom she trusted, and adults around her who were strangers who literally stuffed her luggage so tight they had to use bungee cords to strap them closed. And then someone dares to mention it like it is only this child’s onus to bear.
When the children that we are tending to and raising and helping and cheering for go through the trauma and chaos that leads them to us, they are not fully whole. Right? The world has left them broken and bruised, whether physically or emotionally. They have to learn to navigate a world with the preconceived notions that are ingrained in them because they have to survive. They view everything through a survival lens. Our girl is the one you want in a crisis because her first and foremost thought is: what do we need to survive? It’s what she did for her younger brother in those first few years. She can gather essentials in the blink of an eye if she feels a crisis or departure is imminent. I was told once by a therapist in our girl’s very early years, that most children do not think that way. She was amazed at the tenacity and the thoughtfulness she put into being prepared to flee or hide instantly. She didn’t learn that playing childhood games with her little brother. She learned that because of the circumstances, the trusted people in her life led her to. She knows immediately when to trust her gut instinct about people. She can size them up in an instant, and without knowing why, know she needs to be away from them. She is wise in ways no teenager should be, yet she is having to learn how to relate to teen peers who have not experienced life as she has. I cannot even imagine that.
As she has grown and matured, I have seen her make great strides in her interpersonal relationships. It’s a slow process, but she’s doing it. She’s growing. She’s carving out a life and a tribe for herself and not a bit of it has been easy for her. But guess what – she’s unpacking that overloaded baggage that got packed for her – one article at a time. She is learning to remove those things she has no use for anymore. She is tossing things into a corner with each day, each week, each month, and each year that her brain heals and her heart heals. She is gaining a protective voice for herself as she removes each article from that overstuffed bag. Granted, she’s just beginning teenage life and we are having to help her grow and learn to live in this world as a strong, young woman. I have to accomplish this and not revert to the baggage I still have stowed in the closet that I packed while surviving her mom’s teenage years. She is her own self. We have to approach life differently. My daughter has taught me that – the simple statement to me: She’s not me, Mom, please remember that. And I do have to remind myself of that.
But in all of this – all of the angst and laughter and anxiety that is part of raising any teen, I have a desperate need for those responsible for packing her baggage, to take ownership and acknowledge their role. I know my daughter has. When she eventually reads this blog I hope she knows that I do realize she has owned her role and she has fought for our Bear. But I still wonder if any of them, her parents in particular, will ever truly understand the depths of the emotional pain and the sweeping effects on HER life that their actions or inactions had. It’s immense. We have walked it with her every single day. No one else has. No one else sees the effects as we do. And honestly, there’s a little part of me that would like that one person to feel the pain she’s felt … but I don’t know that he’s capable of absorbing. And that’s not for me to determine, right?
I guess one of the main things I want to convey is that as I am beginning to face being the “parent” of a teen in this day and age is that I was not expecting to fight this battle. Naive, I suppose. I know kids can be mean. I am learning that adults can be too, those who “love” our children, and ones who do not truly even know our children, only their circumstances. Their words are painful. They can “make fun” or degrade a kid without having any knowledge as to why they don’t live with their parents – what happened – and have if nothing else, empathy to realize that if it’s not a “nuclear” family situation, then something is askew and maybe a little extra compassion and understanding should be put forth. I will have to learn how to face these moments with her as they each occur … without reverting to my old criminal justice, jailhouse working, mindset … cause honestly, the nickname I earned in that system was earned LOL and I was effective … but probably should not be proud of it.
I want her to grow, prosper, love, laugh, and be happy. I want her to be particular about her own personal baggage. I want others who see some kid not living in a “normal” home situation to take pause … ponder … maybe gently ask … and show grace, cause I bet you have big old skeletons in your closet too. Am I right?
Our worth and our place on this Earth is only determined by our God. Our girl has a mighty story that she will tell one day and in doing so, she will help others heal or navigate a life that has been less that gentle. Our God set her in this time and place – much as he did Esther. Our God alone can work on hearts that are blind to their roles in her challenges. Our God alone … and you know what, I have run out of words. So maybe it’s simply … Our God Alone.
Acts 17:26 says: From one man he made all the nations, that they should inhabit the whole earth; and he marked out their appointed times in history and the boundaries of their lands.
Esther 4:14 says: For if you keep silent at this time, relief and deliverance will rise for the Jews from another place, but you and your father’s house will perish. And who knows whether you have not come to the kingdom for such a time as this?”
She was born in the perfect time, the perfect place for God. That is the only thing that matters. I hope one day she understands how remarkable she is.
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Mom by Proxy . . . and God's Grace 