Monthly Archives: March 2011

Courage Question of the Day

Lion’s Whiskers asks: Have your kids (or you for that matter) pushed against the boundaries of their own courage, even if it meant getting into “trouble”?

(Like these real-life examples from our parenting and growing-up treasure trove: playing with matches under the bed, playing with firecrackers in the basement, starting or DRIVING the car before being able to see over the dashboard, parachuting off the garage roof with a plastic green garbage bag cape!)

Does Size Really Matter? David and Goliath

The armies of King Saul were arrayed in battle against the Philistines, face to face across the Valley of Elah. From among the ranks of the Philistines came a great giant of a warrior, boldly daring anyone among the Israelites to meet him in single combat. This champion was so powerful and terrifying that none among Saul’s fighters were willing to do battle against him, even with the encouragement of a great reward from their king.
David, a teenager, was bringing food to his older brothers in King Saul’s armies. Hearing Goliath’s taunts, and seeing no-one take up the challenge, David agreed to fight. King Saul urged the young man to take his armor, but David declined, meeting the Philistine armed with only his slingshot and a bag of stones – the weapons he used for driving lions away from his sheep.

The rest, as they say, is history. The stone from David’s sling hit mighty Goliath in the forehead, toppling the giant to the ground. Then, seizing the Philistine’s own sword, David cut off Goliath’s head.

Kids seem to like this story a lot, and certainly the imagery has taken powerful hold in Western culture: the underdog, against all odds, takes down the giant enemy. It’s a metaphor that sees a lot of action. Do children like the story because they are small, the world is full of big and powerful forces, and this tells them they’ve got a fighting chance? I don’t know. Maybe.
As a parent, what I find most interesting about the story is David’s refusal of Saul’s armor and shield. If I were writing a sermon I’d point out that David said he fought in the name of God; but I’m not writing a sermon. Instead, I want to point out that David already had everything he needed to defeat Goliath – and more importantly, he knew it. He needed no borrowed weapon or protection, because he was already ready. This is, I think, a very powerful message for kids (and parents!). Every child has strengths and talents; as a parent, I need to find what strengths my child already has and support those strengths for her biggest challenges, not insist that instead she should have other strengths. I must not ask my daughter to wear someone else’s armor.

Click here how to tell a story, such as the David and Goliath story

Sharing Family Stories

There is a big difference between my family and my husband’s family.  My family relies on humor as the glue to hold us all together—the funnier the story at the dinner table, the better digested the meal.  We all eventually begin talking over one another, finishing each other’s sentences, eager to have the last word.  We all want to get the biggest laugh, to be part of the family narrative.  The focus in my husband’s family lies more on family loyalty—the nutritional content of the meal, the garden where the ingredients grow, and how it all looks.  My kids value greatly what they learn whilst hanging out on the limbs of each branch of our family tree.  But guess at whose table my kids are learning to become master story-tellers? 

(Not Lisa’s real ancestors, they look like they had way more fun than these folks, but you get the point!)
It’s not as if my children don’t appreciate all they learn at my mother-in-law’s table, or most memorably in her kitchen and garden.  It’s just I think I’ve taught them to look more for the funny in life, and less at the ingredients needed for the perfect pie.  Comedy, it has often been said, is = tragedy + time.  So, in my extended family (where we’ve faced divorce, addiction, death, and other losses and have needed some courage!) we’ve learned to savor the moments together and focus on the funny.  So, it was with great delight that I noticed a warming shift at my in-law’s table during our recent visit:  my kids and their cousins were rising in their ranks, breaking the ice, and becoming leaders in the family discussions by telling their funny stories!

Every summer, when we return home to the West Coast of Canada for a family fill-up, my kids beg their great uncles to tell the stories of their madcap youth.  My kids love to hear the pranks they’ve played on each other, their childhood adventures during a time when kids played regularly together in their neighborhoods unsupervised until someone’s mother called you all home.  My kids especially love tales of my uncles’ feats of daring during those less litigious times when the biggest threat was their dad’s belt hanging by the stairs to the basement.

During these family visits, my kids are hungry for stories.  You can almost see them sorting all the pieces to their family puzzle.  Puzzle pieces that I alone can’t provide.  These visits live long in my children’s memories. 

They repeat my uncles’ stories, checking in with me to make sure they’ve remembered ALL the details—especially the funny bits.  These stories are touchstones of family connection.  Before they are done retelling the time my one uncle awoke bleary-eyed to the inside of a spitball-covered hotel room, rolling over to find his 13 year-old’s birthday cake smeared with hand prints and whole chunks missing, the floor covered in wet towels; my kids and I are crying with laughter.  While my uncle had slept peacefully after hearing the polite goodnights from their adjoining room, my cousin and his pals had roamed the hotel where he hosted his 13th birthday party that year.  Included was a midnight swim in the off-limits moat surrounding the main hotel concourse, covering both rooms with a splattering of spitballs (you couldn’t see the screen of the TV), and the requisite game of ‘Nicky-Nicky Nine-Doors’ to keep all their fellow guests guessing as to the ruckus through the night.  Imagining my uncle marching out of the hotel, telling my cousin and his pals (through clenched teeth) to keep walking “heads down”—hoping to avoid the consternation of the hotel clerk and a huge hotel bill—evokes memories of our own most embarrassing moments when we’ve wished the floor would open up and swallow us whole.

The greater truth in any family is one woven of collective perspectives.  My one uncle was the long-suffering son under his father’s brutality when he was still drinking; miraculously he’s also the funniest and most resilient of the bunch.  Laughter is, after all, a powerful antidote to fear.  My other uncle, the responsible elder brother, recalls a hard-driven father who mentored him and from whom he inherited the family business.  I remember a grandfather who could be grumpy and never let anyone sit in his TV room chair.  A man who also tried endlessly to teach me how to sail and appreciate the art of carpentry.  Most of all, I remember his kindness in allowing me to visit every second weekend of my childhood to be filled up with the security and safety of his and my nana’s routines.  I loved him with the unconditional innocence of a child.  I now know that none of us can be easily summarized in one story, one escapade, or by one mortifying moment.
It is through the collective lenses of family stories that my children are able to glimpse the family they come from, to understand more about themselves, and imagine what they may be capable of achieving.  One of our family members just need start with “Remember when…” and my kids are glued to the dinner table.  No iPod, TV show, or YouTube sensation can capture their attention the same way a funny family story can. 
Ultimately, armed with the knowledge that their relatives, too, have survived embarrassment, a first kiss, a painful break-up due to a bad haircut, bankruptcy, and even a close call with a grey whale, I hope they feel less alone (and more compassionate with themselves) in facing some of the challenges, failures, successes, and other milestones on the road ahead. 
It is those of us who continue to have the courage to get up, dust ourselves off, and tell a good story about our lives that capture the imaginations of the rest of us! 

A footnote:  After living in Saratoga Springs, NY for almost four years I recently learned that my maternal ancestors were actually born in Saratoga.  A distant relative filled in the blanks for me about that particular branch of my children’s family tree, put it into a book full of family stories and archive photos, and mailed it to us.  It turns out that having the courage to travel, uproot your family, and follow employment to new lands may just bring you back to brave new beginnings, a little older but perhaps wiser!

Tell us one of your favorite family stories–we’d love to hear your voice, too!

Shout Out

We would like to say a special “Thank You” to a brave young mother and wonderful staff writer at the Times Union in Albany, NY for her great article today about Lion’s Whiskers.  To read
“A Lesson in Courage”, click here! 

Share this link, join our subscription list (it’s anonymous), become a follower, tweet us, “Like” us on facebook, and most of all share your parenting wisdom with us by posting your comments! 

What is Spiritual Courage?

Compiled and written by Lisa and Jennifer:

This will be the sixth in the “Six Types of Courage” that we will explore in-depth. We hope you’ve already had the chance to read over our page called “The Six Types of Courage” for a brief overview of our definitions.  The examples we give for each type of courage may apply to your children and/or to you please keep in mind, when you are reading this post, that some of these examples may involve taking “baby steps” on your way to spiritual courage!  Every step towards courage is both worthwhile and important. 

Spiritual Courage

“This is my simple religion.  There is no need for temples; no need for complicated philosophy.  Our own brain, our own heart is our temple; the philosophy is kindness.”— His Holiness the Dalai Lama

“Here is a test to find whether your purpose in life is finished: if you are alive, it isn’t.”— Richard Bach

Spiritual courage fortifies us as we ask questions about purpose and meaning.  Of course many people find the foundations of this courage in an organized religion, but there are also other ways to develop spiritual courage.  Spiritual courage means being available to the deepest questions about why we are here, what is my life for,  do I have a purpose?  These are profound existential questions and can be quite frightening, which suggests why fundamentalism of all kinds can gain mastery over us;  thus we yearn for definite answers to these questions and are attracted to ideologies that offer  resolution to our uncertainty.  Spiritual courage means accepting that you are unlikely to find the answers, but asking them anyway.  We all must call upon our spiritual courage when we consider our own mortality. Spiritual courage means opening ourselves up to our own vulnerability and the mysteries of life.

For inspiring true stories, ways to recognize and coach spiritual courage in ourselves and our children…READ ON!
Spiritual courage allows us to encounter people of different religious faiths and spiritual traditions without judgment.  Remember the photos from the Egyptian revolution earlier this year, when Christians made a protective cordon around Muslims during prayer?  That looks like spiritual courage to us.

This video from TED.com is Matthieu Ricard, sometimes called “The Happiest Man in the World.”  It’s about twenty minutes long.  If you don’t have time for it now, come back later.  It’s well worth it.

  • attending religious festivals and listening to stories from faith traditions other than your own
  • talking with children openly and honestly about death
  • having friendships with people from faith traditions other than your own
  • for parents, making sure you have written a will,  arranged legal guardianship for your children in the event of your death, as well as writing advance directives for medical emergencies
  • giving your children the option to pursue a religious practice or attend a youth group, even if you don’t attend or practice regularly
  • making time to pray, meditate, or do charitable work
  • holding a funeral for a pet 
  • letting go of the need to control everything in life
  • reaching out in times of need and asking for help—discovering that there are, in fact,  lots of resources in your community
  • building meaningful rituals into your daily life, such as quiet contemplation with a cup of tea, or a walk in the woods with your kids

Lack of spiritual courage looks like:

  • making judgments based on the religious identification of others  
  • refusing to try attending a religious service even when your child invites you or expresses interest in religion
  • refusing to attend someone’s wedding, funeral or other rite of passage because of religious intolerance
  • unwilling to question your strongly-held beliefs
  • unwilling to plan for your own death
  • not respecting the wishes of a loved one who is faced with a life-threatening diagnosis
  • unwilling to accept that spirituality can exist outside the walls of a religious institution 
  • unwilling to make a values inventory
  • not walking the talk
  • lack of respect for others, their beliefs, their culture, and the environment
  •  

     

Spiritual courage sounds like:

  • “May I go to your church/temple/mosque with you some time?”
  • “What do you believe?”
  • “That’s not a belief I’m familiar with.  Can you tell me more about that?”
  • “I have questions.”
  • “I want to make a difference with my life.”
  • “What happens to us after we die, Mommy?”
  • “Can I say grace tonight, Dad?”
  • “I’m grateful for ___________.”
  • “Before I die, I want to __________.”
  • “Let’s talk about who we’d like to raise our kids if we die whilst they are still young.”

Lack of spiritual courage sounds like:

  • “What difference does it make anyway?”
  • “They are evil.”
  • “Don’t think about such morbid things!”
  • “All religions breed fanatics!!”
  • “Religion in the opiate of the masses.”
  • “You really believe that stuff?”
  • “Sounds like some kind of a cult!”
  • “I can’t talk to you about that because you’re not a member of my church/mosque/synagogue.”
  • “I did it in the name of ___________”
  • “I give up.”

Grab Some Lion’s Whiskers!
Here are some tips for developing spiritual courage for you and your kids

  • read stories from all world religions and encourage your children to ask questions and find similarities from one culture to another
  • read at least a bit of the Koran, the Bible, Talmudic teachings, Buddhist teachings, etc.  
  • if you’ve never been to a Passover seder, ask a Jewish friend to include you next time; if you’ve never been to a baptism, ask a Christian friend to include you; by connecting respectfully with friends from faiths other than your own, you encourage them and yourself
  • ask the important questions before it’s too late!
  • surround yourself and your children with beauty
  • take a walk in nature; wake up early enough to catch a sunrise; on a night walk, stop and simply stare at the stars; take a deep breath in the open air
  • hang famous and not so famous artwork—especially your children’s, and not just on the fridge
  • play Classical as well as Top 40 music 
  • stop and smell the flowers
  • try a yoga class—even see if there is one for kids in your community
  • investigate “alternative” spiritual practices such as meditation or sweat lodge with an open mind
  • work in the garden together, it’s a wonderful way to experience the circle of life

Posts related to spiritual courage: Courage as an Antidote to Fear, Getting to the Heart of Courage,
The Flyaway Lake

What are your ideas about spiritual courage, your parenting tips to promote it with kids, or your favorite spiritual courage story (fiction or non-fiction)?  We’d love to hear from you!

Telling Our Stories

Long before I wrote stories, I listened for stories. Listening for them is something more acute than listening to them. I suppose it’s an early form of participation in what goes on. Listening children know stories are there. When their elders sit and begin, children are just waiting and hoping for one to come out, like a mouse from its hole. — Eudora Welty, American author

Have you ever noticed how eager our children are to hear stories of our own childhood? It seems as if they yearn to know us as we were, before they existed. We are their “in the beginning,” their creation myths, even when (as in adoptive or blended families) we didn’t actually create them. They see us as adults, they see us as people who successfully got from there (childhood) to here (adulthood) and they are curious how it happened. What is the story of how I became grown? The Anne Sexton poem Lisa shared a few posts back reminds me of this – those moments of courage from our past are our story, the record of our hero journey.

c. Yanni Raftakis, Dreamstime.com

In our house, the stories I most often tell of my own childhood and teen years have to do with “most embarrassing moments.” These are the stories that required social courage. In an era where physical courage is called upon less and social courage called upon more often, these are the hero tales I find myself telling. That they more often feature me failing in social courage makes them no less compelling for K. I try to inject these tales with as much comedy as possible, and make myself as much a figure of fun as possible, because how else to show that you can survive an embarrassment? Here I sit, alive and unscarred. Somehow I survived the infamous wetting-my-pants-in-the-snow story (there was steam), the blushful yesterday’s-underpants-creeping-out-from-the-cuff-of-my-jeans-at-school story, the cringe-worthy smelly-feet-during-play-rehearsal story. These and many others are requested again and again like sentimental ballads on an all-request radio station. I am commanded to tell these stories not just to my daughter, but to audiences of her friends as if they were edge-of –the-seat war stories of near misses on the front lines. The fact is that’s what they are. I think any parent could search their past for their most embarrassing stories and tell them with relish – slather them with juicy detail and groaning laments. Their cheerful willingness to share them is proof enough that the battle can be won and the hero can survive to tell the tale. “Some day, my child, you shall have a hearty laugh over this,” may be a difficult pill to swallow in the moment, but the stories will be reassuring evidence that it is true.

Why Attachment is so Important in Learning Courage

As a mom to newborn E. (my now 13 year-old son), I was ripe with the maternal love hormones prolactin and oxytocin.  It’s one of the reasons new parents seem a bit dopey.  Biochemicals like oxytocin, prolactin, and vasopressin, in particular, make maternal and paternal bonding possible.  We are all, it turns out, wired for connection.  In those early days with E. it didn’t really matter to me that there were specific centers of my brain, and highly elaborate neural mechanisms activated to ensure my maternal love, recognition of my baby, and the kind of protectiveness that promotes secure attachment.  I was either blissfully oblivious or too darn tired to notice.  Read on for some “good news!”

Copyright Andrey Kiselev, Dreamstime.com

I now know that not only was it important that I received loving care and touch myself as an infant—particularly in the first six months of life—but having a secure attachment with my husband also helped immensely in coaxing him into the intense dyad that E. and I became.  Those extended invitations for my husband to co-parent with me not only, it turns out, helped to ensure E.’s survival through their secure attachment—but has also proved to be an essential primary attachment and positive model of manhood for E.  We had both already established our ability to receive and give love, and here in our arms was the perfect opportunity to put it all into practice.

The good news:  As long as we got some good stuff during our first six months of life, chances are higher that we can learn to become good parents.  I also want to be clear that though research shows a critical period of development in the first six months of life; our ability to learn to form attachments throughout the lifespan is by no means limited to that critical period, nor is it limited in the type of primary attachment figure necessary.  Does it need to be said that this is inclusive of any type of loving parental relationship surrounding an infant, whether straight or gay, single or two-parent, married or not?  Infants aren’t as discerning as our lawmakersthey just want our love!

Let’s review what attachment means.  Essentially, it is the affective, cognitive, and behavioral relationship between typically a parent (or other loving caregiver) and a child that results in feelings of closeness, empathy, and understanding. 

Also, while reading this post I’d like you to reassure you!  I’d like you to think of attachment as a spectrum, on one end is the abandoned orphan who never had the chance to form a secure attachment with a loving, consistent caregiver.  We all sadly learned about these orphans in news footage during the early 1990’s when Ceauşescu’s regime collapsed in Romania.  Many of these orphans were later adopted into brave families throughout the world and have gone on to thrive because of their adoptive parents’ consistent, loving care. The orphans who were never held, barely fed, and exposed to a multitude of infectious diseases in their first six months rarely recovered a capacity to thrive developmentally, intellectually, and even more importantly for survival, interpersonally.  In some cases, the neurological damage was permanent.  That’s how extreme the depravity needs to be for a human being to cease learning to form secure attachments. 

On the other end of the spectrum, nestled comfortably behind the proverbial picket fence, is the mother-father-infant triad with plenty of love, time, financial resources, community support, and health insurance—as if there is one perfect way to secure attachment learning in a child.  Which there isn’t!  Between these two extremes, we all find ourselves cobbling together our resources, knowledge, genetics and inborn temperament, family configuration, circumstances of our lives, and personal histories, spinning the wheel of life, and landing where we may on the spectrum with our child. It’s all just about learning how and continuing to form loving connections, which often takes emotional courage!  We will be discussing throughout upcoming posts ways to promote and ensure parent-child secure attachment and sharing some inspiring examples from around the world!

Let’s be clear:  Across the spectrum of attachment the vast majority of us continue to prove our remarkable resilience and neuroplasticity! Neuroplasticity meaning: the brain’s natural ability to form new connections in order to compensate for injury or changes in one’s environment.

Again, I want to reiterate that forming loving, secure attachments is vital for the survival of our species. Primary attachments, usually parents, help kids develop the kind of prosocial skills associated with social courage.  (So do secondary attachments like those with our beloved aunties, uncles, grandparents, siblings, step-parents, foster parents, teachers, and other loving guides along the journey…more about these relationships in later posts).  Social skills including:
  • self-calming skills
  • being aware of one’s own emotions
  • recognizing the feelings of others
  • being compassionate
  • impulse control
  • ability to make eye contact
  • sharing and turn-taking
Think of it like this:  unless you experienced being cared about, why would you run into a burning building to show your altruistic care for another?  Unless you learned, through the loving touch of another human being, to be calm during stress—how could you be compassionate and sensitive enough to soothe your own screaming child?  Unless you have a strong bond with your child, how will you be able to encourage them to be brave when the going gets tough?  
In my personal, professional, and parenting experience…securely attached kids are more confident to explore the world on their own, care more about themselves and others (including us as their parents), and are more apt to resist peer pressure and have the courage to take prudent risks in life.  Contrary to many parents’ fears about spoiling their child, or raising a velcro-kid who grows into an adult-child who never wants to leave home; infused with our love, support, and courage-coaching, securely attached children grow into confident, caring, capable, and independent adolescents.   But don’t just believe my word for it, here’s a list of the payoffs of raising securely attached kids.

When we ensure secure attachment between ourselves and our children through loving them, we do not spawn cling-ons.  Being a secure attachment relationship for your child also doesn’t mean you need to be at home full-time, never let them out of your sight, or never lose your patience.  It looks more like trusting your gut, loving your child, and doing your level best as a parent whatever the circumstances of your life.  There are specific steps to forming secure attachments with children which I will be writing at-length about in this parenting blog. 

As a parenting coach, I have the unique opportunity to help parents ensure that they are engaging in the kinds of behaviors, stimulating the kinds of neurochemicals necessary, and thinking the kinds of thoughts that trigger the hormonal chain reactions involved in forming secure attachments.  More about the chemical soup we call love in my upcoming posts!  If you have questions about attachment and/or an interest in parent-coaching, don’t hesitate to post a comment or contact me.

Here’s a sampler of what happens in the first year, in terms of infancy attachment.  Read over the list as a way to understand infant development as it relates to bonding and the formation of secure attachments.  I have shamelessly cut and paste from an informative and hopeful article by the son of the brains behind attachment theory, Sir Richard Bowlby (2007):

0 to 3 Months – A baby’s born with a number of functioning behavioral systems that will form the building blocks of later attachment behavior such as crying, clinging, looking, and sucking; and then a few weeks later they’re smiling and babbling, as well. From birth, babies have good hearing and sense of smell, which is how they discriminate one person from another, and they respond more favorably to a human voice, to a human face, and to human touch than to other such stimuli.
Newborn babies have a natural propensity to prefer and seek out stimuli that are familiar to them; and they may develop a preference for a familiar person to care for them early on. However, for the first two, or even three, months the infant has not developed proper attachment behavior and his attempts at social interaction are very primitive.
3 to 7 Months – After about three months, babies begin to differentiate between the people around them and they become selective about who they “socialize” with most. Mary Ainsworth writes: “One feature of attachment behavior that struck me especially was the extent to which the infant himself takes the initiative in seeking an interaction. At least from two [or more often three] months of age onwards, and increasingly through the first year of life, these infants were not so much passive recipients, as active in seeking interaction.”
This period from about three months to seven months is when the babies work out who’s who in their lives and increasingly select one person. It’s during this phase that most infants are in a high state of sensitivity for developing attachment behavior toward a “mother figure,” and her lively and sensitive response to the baby’s signals and approaches for interaction will be very important.
7 to 12 Months – When they’re six or seven months old, the infants become increasingly discriminating in the way they treat people and have a repertoire of responses including following a departing mother figure, greeting her on her return, and using her as a base from which to explore. Although the rather indiscriminate friendly response to everyone else diminishes, certain people are selected to become secondary attachment figures but not others. Although most babies show the beginnings of attachment behavior at six or seven months, the start may be delayed until after the first birthday, especially in infants who have little contact with their main attachment figure.
Watch for Don Haln’s (2010) heartbreaking and inspiring documentary about Romanian orphans: http://handheldthemovie.com/

Share your tales of courage from parenthood!  We want to hear from you!

Sources:

Beckett, C., Maughan, B., Rutter, M., Castle, J., Colvert, E., Groothues, C., Kreppner, J., & Stevens, S.,
         O’Connor, T., Sonuga-Barke, E. (2006). Do the effects of early severe deprivation on cognition
         persist into early adolescence? Findings from the English and Romanian adoptees study. Child
         Development, 77, (3), 696 – 711.

Bowlby, R. (2007). The secondary attachment: A look at Bowlby’s theory. The Journal of API. http://www.psych.ndsu.nodak.edu/hilmert/Classes/Psyc787/Week9/Taylor_2000.pdf
Dewar, G. (2008). The science of attachment parenting. Parenting Science. http://www.parentingscience.com/attachment-parenting.html
Noriuchi, M., Kikuchi, Y. & Senoo, A. (2008). The functional neuroanatomy of maternal love: Mother’s response to infant’s attachment behaviors. Biological  Psychiatry, 63, 415–423.
Palmer, L. (2002). Bonding matters: The chemistry of attachment. Attachment Parenting International News, 5, (2), 1-4. http://www.newbornbreath.com/downloads/Handouts/Chemistry%20of%20Attachment.pdf
Riley, D., San Juan, R., Klinker, J., & Ramminger, A. (2008). Social & emotional development: Connecting science and practice in early childhood settings. St. Paul, MN: Redleaf Press