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Listen to children
and hear what they say
I'm just going to share something with you this
morning following the tragedy at Columbine High School in Colorado last week. I
don't know the hows or what-fors of tragedies such as this, but I kinda-sorta
understand the anger and despair leading up to it. As I listened to the comments
about the two young men from other students at CHS I couldn't help but remember
the years of anguish our son Bill went through all four of his high school
years, both here and in Duchesne, Utah, because he was "different."
Being "different" is a mortal sin in our society.
Different being ugly, fat, effeminate, introverted, even shyness will get you
cast out from the "in crowd," handicapped, mentally slow, even a hair-lip,
crossed eyes, etc. You know what I mean. Wouldn't it be wonderful if we all just
accepted each other, but we don't ... me included. How do we get this turned
around? I don't know.
Bill expressed most of his emotions on paper. I didn't
have the wisdom to encourage talking "about it" so we wrote notes. That was how
we communicated during hard times. Most writings were his private thoughts and
cries for help. I want to share a couple of his writings with you then I'll drop
it. The first was written after he started school at CHS.
Lock the door. Now find the sharpest razor. No ... can't stand the sight
of blood. Pills. Take all the pills and drink the whiskey. No, that takes too
long. Oh God yes, the gun. I've got it, get the gun. One shot and the loneliness
will end. I won't be lonely anymore. No more crying at night, no more teasing
from the kids at school. No one will ever hurt me
again. The loneliness will finally end. One bullet will do it. Let's see, the
heart ... yes, the heart. No more lonel.........
Another look at the heart of a desperate child.
A young boy sits in a small corner alone; Afraid to let anyone notice he's
there, alive. Sounds of laughter echo
through the heavily shadowed walls. A tear fills the child's eye at the thought
of being alone in the darkness and a chill cools his flesh. Again, one has been
left behind.
As I went though his book of poetry, thoughts and
words to his parents many of the entries brought new meaning to me. It
was only after his mid-twenties, rehab and therapy that he learned and finally
understood that he was a good person and it was okay to be Bill. Not easy, but
okay.
When I was a child I had a little anger in me, too.
Sad, lonely, angry, all that that implies. I think so often of the time I conned
a little Graves boy into coming back behind a fence, out of sight and hearing of
the people gathered at St. Mary's Hall in Reliance. I would slap him up, then
when he got to crying I would be real nice and when he let his guard down I'd
let him have it again. Sometimes I can't believe I did that, but I was hurting
and apparently wanted someone else to hurt, too ... I guess. Anyway, that's my
self-analysis.
I guess the whole point of this diatribe is that we
have to listen to our children and take the necessary action to start the
healing process. When a happy-go-lucky child suddenly becomes introverted and
sad we have to find out why. Easy to say, I know.
But what if we ask a question knowing what the answer
is going to be and don't want to hear it? Therein lies a big problem.
Geez, don't you just hate it when I get on my bandwagon? Me, too. Would that I
were as wise as I profess to be.
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