Core Values Series: Discernment

Opening Day for Little League Baseball

It's a breezy April afternoon in suburban New Jersey when a 7^th grader gets jumped while riding his bike home from our neighborhood baseball field. By evening, high praise for our small-town police department, who caught three wannabe criminals at Gelotti’s, recovered the bike, and promptly delivered justice to the boy and his upset household. What’s most remarkable is the child's perspective moments after the assault. Stunned and harmed, yet quick-witted enough to take a picture of the assailants riding off on his wheels, he immediately texted it to his parents, then picked himself up, dusted off, and headed home on foot—a 12-year-old adult.

How do we instill the core values that help kids sense trouble when it’s lurking nearby? And what good is a third eye that sees trouble closing in— first down the block, then across the street, now at one’s shoulder? What, exactly, should be done with this knowledge in real time? More questions arise when my own boy calls from the ballpark to tell me that an infamous actor is sitting behind him and his friends in the bleachers—middle schoolers all loud, giddy, and star-struck, asking for selfies with this, this —who? Isn’t he the one who went to jail for…?  Click.

My son is done talking to me. It’s nearly dark out. Should I come get you yet? I text. While I don’t miss endless opening days of baseball, I’m both sad my boy no longer plays sports and glad he chooses to suffer through pollen and irritated eyes to cheer for friends. Still, no response. What’s a helicopter mom to do? I Google this actor, and sure enough, legal troubles galore after his stardom in the 90's. Apparently, he’s great again. Yet, all it takes is one wrong move to veer a bright, promising life off the rails. Without sound judgment, rogue young adults spend years trying to course-correct a season of stupidity. Years.  

When, finally, my teen is at arm's length in the passenger seat, his legs look longer tonight, his voice deeper every passing day, his third eye still closed-shut from pollen perhaps. And so, I lecture a laundry list of this actor’s criminal history. But is it crystal clear? Are these really the character traits one aspires to, to, to take a freakin selfie with?! I turn into our garage and wonder if I've taken a breath or just berated my kid the whole way home? Stop, Ma, you’re spinning— the guy did time like a decade ago—he's lowkey chill, now. People change, says Dom, dismissing me in that daily way sons dismiss their mothers.

It's 10 PM. Do you know who your children are? Do they share your boundaries, your empathy, your strengths of character? You think petty larceny was the first or fifth offense of those kids? None were from town, but that doesn’t mean one isn’t standing in front of your fridge, wondering what’s for dinner.

Ever Onward,

Xxx

Dr. B

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