The Family Business

NOTE: I do not have a degree in history. I am writing some of this post from my general (and limited) understanding of historical family and work life. So, if you DO have a history degree and happen to find inaccuracies...just let it go man...I am mostly using "work" as a metaphor. 

Until modern times, it was assumed that whatever trade you found yourself working in...you probably learned it from your parents...and you had every intention of passing this livelihood onto your own children. If your parents were farmers, you'd probably inherit the farm when they passed away. If your parents were weavers, you would inherit their loom and all of their clients once they had gone. If your parents owned the tavern, it was going to be yours one day. 

If your parents were savvy farmers/business people, they prepared you for this inevitability by training you in the ways of the family business from a young age. Farmers had their progeny help pull weeds and milk cows, only to increase their workload and responsibility as they got older. Weavers likely taught children to wind skeins of yarn and how to untie knots, then progressed them into the art of textiles as they matured. The tavern owners probably had their offspring fetch water and wash mugs until they were skilled enough to work the counter and take money. There probably wasn't some big formal plan...it was just life...parents taught children how to do life as they knew it.

We don't really have the same tradition in the 21st century. But, just like gardening gives me a modern connection to my agrarian ancestors, so parenting has, in a way, given me a connection to my ancient foremothers and forefathers. There are skills that I must pass on to my sons that will give them the best shot at life. Tonight, I began to pass on the family business. 

Tonight Big Brother had a big, nasty, violent, tantrum. It was because he didn't feel like he'd been given enough "tablet time" before bed, a small thing. But, the day had already been more than his little mind and heart could bear and the minuscule injustice became the straw that broke the camel's back. My son raged for a good, solid, 5 minutes (which is a really long time when someone is deep in the throws of fury). He kept screaming, "You don't even love me! You don't even care that I was born!" This fear, though untrue and unfounded, has been seeded into his mind. In response to that, I knew it was time to have a family business conversation with him.

The most meaningful teaching that I have had on Proverbs 22:6 is that "train up a child in the way he should go" might mean, guiding the child on the path God has laid within the child's temperament and personality. I regularly pray that God will help me to train my children in accordance to the way He has created them. Big Brother, like me, is a Sensitive (so is Little Brother...but in a different way). I would be remiss if I did not teach my son how to properly handle the blessing and the burden of absorbing the world's emotions. 

Once he calmed down and was serene enough to talk and listen, I went into his room and lay beside him on his bed. I reassured him that he was deeply loved and that I am so glad he was born. Then I showed him the Kindle in my hand, which was opened it to the book cover for The Highly Sensitive Child, I asked him to read the title aloud...then asked him what "sensitive" meant. Using the parallel picture of "sensitive skin", he was able to arrive at a fairly accurate definition. Then I unpacked a little bit of what it means for him, for US, to be Highly Sensitive. Because he's still so little, I didn't get into all of the gritty details...I just needed to hit some specific highlights.

For him, that means creating physical and emotional space for him to defrag when he gets home from school. It also means helping him find appropriate outlets in which to be a feeler, like collecting pop tabs for Ronald McDonald House, donating toiletries to deployed soldiers, and letting him get super involved in his school's anti-bullying campaign. I am tasked with teaching him to pay attention to his moods and find ways to deescalate when he feels himself ramping up. He needs to learn how to have emotions without losing control. He must learn about asking forgiveness for his outbursts and make a conscious choice to let go of the guilt and shame that may result from those emotional eruptions.  I, as his parent, must also teach him about his limits by setting appropriate external ones, like restricting screen time before bed. 

Big Brother is a Sensitive, I am one too, as is my father, my grandfather, and based on the knowledge of my extended family's mental health issues...there were many Sensitives before that...it's, in essence, our family business.  As I have stated before, I consider my Sensitivity a gift from God...I consider Big Brother's Sensitivity a gift from God. So much love and mercy and peace can be given to the world through our sharply tuned emotions. But, unless I teach my son how to properly dispense this ability (and discover those skills myself), the pain and injustice of the world could overpower the beauty of this Sensitivity.