Secrets vs Surprises When I was little girl I lived across a gravel road from a large yard lined with trees and beyond that, cornfield as far as I could see. Often, in that yard my neighbor, who I called Grandpa, walked with either his horse Dixie or his son who was blind. On my side of the street, about mid-length down his lot sat my mailbox. It was an “end of the driveway mailbox”, the kind that teenagers might swing a baseball bat at (and did) as they passed by in a car. I believed that the mailbox made music. I believe with all my heart. I was convinced that if I raised the flag on the mailbox and opened the hinged door music would come pouring out. The anticipation of this potential surprise brought me great joy. So much joy, that I never wanted to raise the flag and open the door. A surprise worth keeping. Too great a gift to ruin with reality. At my fall/winter/spring job classroom teachers spend a ton of time and energy filling little hearts with fun surprises. And, some of the kiddos I work with have hearts so full of secrets….there almost isn’t room to squeeze sweet surprises in. I spend more time than I ever imagined I would talking with little clients about secrets versus surprises. Gosh, there are too many little folks out there harboring secrets that are not happy or good or safe. So, we talk. We talk about keeping happy surprises, like a gift you are going to give or special song or performance you are going to give……and then we talk about secrets. And how, while surprises make our hearts feel light and happy….secrets can make our hearts feel sad and afraid, or just plain heavy. I recently was walking along with a little person when this started: LP: I had a musual mornin’. She: Huh? LP: I had a musual mornin’. She: Really, what made it unusual? LP: I can’t say. _____ told me not to tell. (And just like that, I knew our lesson plans for the day were a changin’.) She: Huh, sounds like it was unusual. LP: Yeah. _____ was mad. She: Yelly mad or hurty mad or both. LP: Both. And so, the story unfolds a teensy bit. And, little person doesn’t tell, but, enough is said that by the time we part one little heart is a little lighter. And nothing is solved. But, we did this….we took that yucky secret and we threw a little bit of it out in the open…and by doing so, my little person was able to let it go, if only for a little while. And we planted a seed….school is a safe place where you can say what you need to say and no one is going to be appalled or treat you weird or poo poo you and your yuck-o secret that is just taking up too much room in your heart. I cannot tell you how many times these lips have whispered into little ears, “School is a safe place. You only have to be 5 (or 6,7,8,9,10) here.” And, when I say those things, I hope that a little room grows to be able to make space for fun surprises like the desk fairy leaving treats, or field trips, or concerts, or getting school and realizing it’s cinnamon roll day! Or that the mailbox might serenade you. Do these things make me sad? Sometimes. About two times a year I crawl into bed early and curl up in a ball and cry until I fall asleep. Because stories about homelessness and all of the baggage that comes with that are sad, very sad. Fortunately, homelessness is only part of the story….and, often, as you unpack that baggage you discover some pretty amazing, hopeful, funny, charming and smart human beings. And the anticipation of THAT potential surprise brings me great joy. Mrs. Delicious
Posted on: Sat, 22 Nov 2014 20:53:40 +0000
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