First, let me tell you about Moana.
Disney’s Moana.
Yeah, that one.
As back-story goes, there’s this island goddess, named Te Fiti, who had her “heart” (a green-glowing magical-looking stone) stolen. Moana, an endearing island princess, sets out on a mission across the ocean to find the stolen heart and return it to the goddess, Te Fiti, so that all will be well and right with the world.
It’s no easy task because there is also this enormous-lava-demon monster that rears it’s ugly head and tries to kill Moana as she’s journeying to the island that Te Fiti lives on. In the middle of a huge battle with the Lava-monster, Moana suddenly realizes that the “lava-moster” actually is the goddess, Te Fiti, who had transformed into the hideous lava-monster. Moana, of course, begins to sing in typical Disney-princess fashion as Te Fiti, the Lava-Moster-Demon makes her way towards Moana to put her lights out.
Just when you think Moana is about to be killed, Moana sings the haunting words to Te Fiti, “This is not who you are! You know who you are!” The Lava Monster suddenly softens, remembering who she *really* is, and doesn’t kill Moana, but allows Moana to return her heart back to her, and the lava-demon-monster becomes the beautiful, loving goddess, once again.
If you’ve ever adopted out of foster care you’d be hard-pressed not to turn on the water-works watching that scene.
We know exactly what Moana goes through, I mean, if she were real.
Nothing could have painted a better picture than Moana going through an extraordinary journey to aid Te Fiti… only to become the very object of her wrath.
Somebody stole our kids’ hearts. They’ve been given up on too many times, given it to too many times, forgotten, let down, tossed around, and everything in between. Their lives become a series of behaviors that is NOT who they are.
Our job as adoptive parents is to bring OUT who they are. Remind them who they are. And return their hearts back to them. And rinse and repeat.
And cue the tissues when watching Moana.
It was turning into another argument. This time it was about why my son wanted a cell phone. We had been through the “why can’t I have a lap top” argument in the past month (“What I learned arguing with my son”). Now this time it was a cell phone. (Dear Lord, help me understand: why do kids seem to think there is a difference between asking for a tablet, a computer, a cell phone, or a lap top?)
To clue you in, the general gist for my son’s not being allowed a third limb (aka, media device) is that he is not old enough; that I want to teach him how to handle the power of that kind of responsibility; and (before I even teach him that) that I want to teach him how to develop the relationships around him in REAL life (and how to navigate those) before he learns to take on the not-so-real-world of social media (you can also read why I won’t let my son have a cell phone).
At that time, real-life relationship navigations were a hit-and-miss for my son. He was still learning how to have a real-life argument that gave both people a chance to talk. So, um, yeah, we were a long ways away from anything that had a button.
He was angry with a life-size attitude. He talked “at” me with his chin pointed up at me, head tilted and body turned away, only in the way that disrespectful body language does. He flung every argument he could think of as to why he was ready for a cell phone…along with rolling of the eyes, scoffing and telling me I was out-of-touch with the current generation.
Ready? *cough* Um. No.
But I listened to him until he ran of gas (he is allowed to talk for as long as he needs, but also is not allowed to walk away at any point, until we have worked it through).
I took a deep breath. “Baby, let me help you understand something…”
He looked at me with an amused look on his face, feeling he had won the argument.
“Baby, YOU have something inside of you that needs to be shared.”
He stared at me some-what blank, and some-what still contemptuous. I could tell I had at LEAST gotten his attention.
“This-“ I waved my magic hands in the air calling attention to his entire body posture. “THIS is NOT who you are! The rolling of the eyes, the scoffing, the sarcasm, the disrespect. Baby THIS is NOT who you are!”
“Baby Boy, you have something powerful to give your generation- you have something inside of you that needs to be shared with the world around you, and that thing is called, ‘hope.’ That thing is called ‘compassion’- Compassion so great that you tear up when you when you see somebody hurting.”
“I don’t want you to be looking down at a cell phone when hurting people come into your world. I want you to be able to see the world around you and be able to SEE the hurting people RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU. Not on a screen where you can’t do anything about it. It’s in the face-to-face encounters that your compassion will be used at its greatest.
I know that God has an anointing over your life, and has called you to be a leader to your generation. I believe that you won’t be a kid who is lost on their phone- but will be the one to offer HOPE and LIFE to the people who ARE lost.
“This attitude- this is NOT WHO YOU ARE. THIS IS NOT YOU!
“Do you KNOW WHO YOU ARE?”
He stared at me, this time, with eyes wide and at attention.
“YOU, my son, are the kid who tears up when he sees a homeless man shivering on the street. You are the person who loves God and will do anything that he asks. You are the kid who when his mom is sick, makes her ‘get well notes.’ You are the kid who offers to pray for other kids at school when they are hurting. You are the kid who loves cats, and whose heart melts when you see dogs. You are the kid who loves music and rainy days and soccer… and will do anything to help his team out. You are the kid who is kind, compassionate, thoughtful, obedient, caring, gentle, and has HOPE to give others.”
“Baby Boy, THIS is who you are. Don’t EVER forget who you are.”
Every impertinent, every sarcastic, every contemptuous, every mocking bone was gone from his body. He stood, eyes wide and taken aback.
The light-bulb had turned on and the rat wheel was turning.
Something “clicked.” It was like night and day. I saw something in his eyes that wasn’t there before.
Something had dramatically shifted inside of him. He no longer believed that his behaviors were a part of who he was. They were just… behaviors.
And that, in itself, changed his behavior.
Somebody believed in him. Somebody saw good in him. And the goodness that I reminded him of resonated deep within.
I didn’t need to make stuff up; my son just needed to be reminded of who he REALLY is.
Do we still argue? Yes, but (because of what my husband and I decided to do in “What I learned from arguing with my son”) it’s very seldom, it’s usually respectful, well-thought through, and only for something of great importance to him.
When your kids do good things out of the goodness of their heart– remember those things, so that you can REMIND THEM of who they *REALLY* are when they are at their worst.
Author Anne Day 