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About Stories

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“To be human is to be a storyteller. A computer can tell us how many words are in a story, correct some spelling errors, and execute other mechanical tasks — but it doesn’t have a clue to what the story is about. Conversely, although children will miscount the words and miss many spelling errors, they can easily tell us the gist of the story – and even imaginatively recount the story in their own words.”

~ Barbara K. Walker, The Art of the Turkish Tale

Using Moral Courage to Navigate Facebook and other Social Jungles!

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On the eve of my son’s adolescence, he begged me to let him have a facebook account. At the time, there was a loosely followed guideline that only those 13 years and older could log on and join.  Since I didn’t really understand yet how best to navigate my first born’s adolescence anymore than facebook’s social jungle, I was stalling for time. 

I was also, it turns out, arbitrarily setting his adolescence entrance at age 13 and at facebook’s front door.   I could have opted for the more traditional Native American vision quest to mark his transition from childhood to adulthood.  But with no Native American ancestry whatsoever, such a quest would not only be totally out of integrity, but likely to involve a lot more preparation and trouble.  What wilderness could he wander alone in anyway to complete the sometimes weeks long journey from boy-to-manhood?  A place devoid of traffic, people, and other modern day distractions where he could survive with little water or food, where I wouldn’t go nuts with worry? How long could I put off his school’s attendance officer calling every morning wondering whether or not he had yet achieved the necessary spiritual insight and maturity sufficient to return a more mature young man to middle school?  The East African male circumcision was out of the question, too, for obvious reasons.  So, facebook became intertwined with my son’s quest for more independence and offered a secret passageway to a parallel universe far, far away from anything mom or dad could even remotely understand. 
Truth be told, I’m not a big fan of facebook.  I am, however, shamelessly using it to help promote Lion’s Whiskers.  I also didn’t know yet the kind of evils we would encounter together in this particular social networking jungle. 

The arbitrary age limit thing didn’t stop him from pestering me a lot.  I half-listened to his complaints about how EVERYONE else and their mother has a facebook page.  Even when he said “Mom, someone at school has made a facebook account with my name.” I absentmindedly responded, “Well, just tell them to delete it!” 

A few months passed.  Little did I know the scope of my son’s classmate’s moral indiscretion.  Or the impact that someone hacking into our family’s life could have!  Because I did not take the time to understand my son’s pleas, or facebook for that matter,  I was ill-equipped and too distracted to help him navigate this moral morass.  Big mistake!  He eventually took matters into his own hands, with the help of an older friend, and created his own facebook account with a pseudonym. Since  his classmate wouldn’t stop impersonating him, he reasoned he should alert his friends that though they thought they were “friending” him on facebook, they were actually communicating with an imposter.
We are pretty connected, my son and I.  He also breaks pretty easily when I kick my training in therapy/interrogation techniques into high gear.  I could tell he was hiding something.  Something was heavy on his heart.  It took about a day for me to discover that he had just joined the facebook generation, albeit as a dude by the name of  “Ferbmeister.” He faced the consequences from us.  He was lectured pretty heavily about the ills associated with lying, unsupervised computer access, and the fact that two wrongs don’t make a right. 

As his parents, we spent an entire weekend trying to understand who and how this other child had managed to “friend” people we knew all over North America.  Not one parent of any of the other children alerted us to the fact that this impersonator was “friending” them on behalf of our son, despite having their suspicions and knowing that our kids weren’t allowed on facebook.  Thankfully, one was willing to share who the impersonating child was.  If we don’t stick together as parents, with a common vision to help guide our children towards moral, right, or otherwise kind behavior, our children are at risk for not developing the kind of moral courage we are proposing through Lion’s Whiskers.

Next, I mustered the moral and social courage to confront, albeit diplomatically and without accusation, the parents of the child who we knew was impersonating our son.  Their response was defensive and they minimized the impact of their child’s actions.  “It’s just kids being kids.  Besides, our child isn’t really ever on the computer and wouldn’t know how to do such a thing even if they were.” WHAT?!  I mean I’ve heard of putting your head in the sand, but this parent had theirs deep in the Sahara!

ostrich head in sand

Whether out of embarrassment, denial, or a lack of comfort with the kind of authority we have the privilege to hold as parents, it is, in my opinion, unacceptable to shelter our children from the consequences of their actions. 

We never received an apology from the child or the family, nor were any of our friends notified that who they thought they were communicating with for all those months was not, in fact, our child.  It took weeks for us to undo the child’s handiwork and for the child to finally delete the account, after we alerted the powers that be at facebook.  It saddened my heart that this child would not receive the benefit of a consequence to help them correct their moral compass in the direction of ethical, kind behavior.  And it really angered my kids. 
Kids, for the most part, have a pretty good sense of the difference between right and wrong on the playground, so this wasn’t much different.  Research now shows that from birth, humans are hard-wired to care.  As parents, we have the responsibility to help them learn how to connect and activate, through practice, that wiring through our care for them.  Developing a moral conscience is no longer understood to be a logical or even stage-by-stage process.  Rather, it is a learned skill best passed from parent to child through loving communication, care, and in my case, finally listening to my child’s pleas for help  and asking others to be accountable for their actions—even if they aren’t willing to be.
My kids demanded justice.  “Mom, how come you give us consequences and so-and-so has none?  That just doesn’t seem fair!”

I, in turn, asked them, “How do you think we would have handled this situation if you had been the one impersonating a classmate?” 

Their answer: “You would make us apologize, delete the account, and probably even make some other kind of amends to make things right again.”  “You bet I would,”  was my emphatic response. 
Unfortunately, morality is sometimes a double-edged sword.  Even when we show care for others, they may not care about us.   Even when we do the right thing, it can often be hard.  We may risk our own safety, welfare, social acceptance, or even imprisonment for the causes we believe in.   How then do we teach our children to do the right thing?  Especially when life doesn’t seem fair.  Well, we can be the kind of people we hope they will someday become.  We can model for our children how to react in ways that are life-affirming and not to be victims of our circumstances.  We can advocate for them when they need help.  We can dig our heads out of the sand!
Gratefully, many months after the facebook fiasco, my son’s teacher not only arranged a ritual in the woods whereby each child had the opportunity to cross over a metaphorical threshold into adolescence.  She also tried to intervene with my son and his imposter.  She could see the distrust and distance the incident had created between them.  She asked the offending child to apologize.  My son was forgiving, but remained unimpressed.  Kids are like that.  They remember who pushed them off the swing, bit them in playgroup, or stole their identity. 

A few months later I ran into the child on the playground.  The child clearly wanted to avoid me, looking embarrassed and ashamed.  I said, with kindness and compassion in my heart, “You never need to avoid or be ashamed around me.  I care about you and I care about my son.  We all make mistakes.  I just wanted you to know the impact of your actions.  I wish you well.”  I turned the other cheek, so to speak. 

Never underestimate the impact of your real or virtual moral footprint, especially in the lives of your children!

For more on the moral development of children, and how important YOU are as your child’s first and most important teacher…be sure to read my post “Hard-wired to Care: You Matter in the Moral Life of Your Child!”

Courage Challenge of the Day

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Lion’s Whiskers offers this courage challenge: As an opportunity to put your moral courage muscles to work, take a pet peeve and trace its origins.  If you find yourself complaining about hiked gas prices, consider the choices in your life that have made you dependent on your automobile.  When you are annoyed by another’s behavior, consider how that behavior may mirror something that you deny, don’t accept, or don’t like in yourself.  For example, if you find yourself complaining about how long your child takes to get ready in the morning, is it possible that you, too, are not a morning person?  Is it possible that you might need to wake up a little earlier and/or help your child the night before to ease the morning routine?  Perhaps you find yourself complaining about people who ignore local bylaws and don’t pick up their dogs’ poop, forgetting the times you, too, were caught without a poop bag? 

Tracing your own responsibility for what goes on in the world will help you teach your child to do the same.  None of us lives in a bubble – our lives are connected in an intricate web of decisions and choices.  For a humbling example of how our kids offer us daily opportunities to put this moral courage challenge into practice, read Lisa’s post What Goes Around, Comes Around!

Care to share one of your pet peeves and what its origins might have to do with you? 

The Rule of Threes

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“Third time’s the charm,” goes the saying. This, in a nutshell, is the Rule of Threes, an almost universal pattern in storytelling. Three wishes, three wise men, three billy goats gruff, three sisters, three brothers, three little pigs – when you begin to notice, you will see threes everywhere in traditional stories.

Why?

It is now well-understood that humans are pattern-making and pattern-seeking creatures. This cognitive behavior helps us learn that Chihuauas, Great Danes and Basset Hounds are all dogs, for instance. It helps us with predictions: when the heat and humidity and air pressure build on a summer day we prepare for a thunderstorm. This behavior can also lead us astray, tricking us into seeking significance or meaning in random events, or can give rise to superstitions (such as “bad luck comes in threes.”) For good or for ill, we look for patterns.

The smallest number of units that can create a pattern is three. One is an individual. Two might be a coincidence. Three sets the pattern. Thus, the number three is the most efficient and compact (and thus the most memorable) number of elements for establishing something as significant. The ancient Greeks even had a term for this – the tricolon. The tricolon creates special emphasis: on your mark, get set, go; ready, willing, and able; life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness; healthy, wealthy and wise; of the people, by the people, for the people; the good, the bad, and the ugly. The list goes on and on – and on!

In comedy, the rule of threes is used to set up jokes, usually by breaking the pattern on the third go, and thus creating humor out of the surprise. In stories, the rule of threes allows us to anticipate that the third try, the third brother, the third wish – whatever it is – will be the one to resolve the story.

When you are telling stories (traditional tales or family stories) around the dinner table, or in the car, or on a walk, you can use the rule of threes to your advantage. Whatever part of the story you want to highlight, put a tricolon in there! The third part of the tricolon will usually be the most memorable. “The king was handsome, brave and generous,” is actually different from “The king was brave, generous and handsome,” which is different from, “The king was handsome, generous and brave.” Or how about introducing a family story with, “My aunt Mary was tall, stubborn and greedy,” versus, “My aunt Mary was stubborn, greedy, and tall.” In the first, we expect greediness to be the main feature of the story, in the second, we expect her height to be the main feature.

Naturally, as we are concerned with developing courage, I suggest you can use the rule of threes to emphasize the courageous aspects of your stories. Have fun with your threes!

Three Billy Goats Gruff

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Mention the words “courage” and “stories” in the same breath and someone will ask, “Are you going to tell the story of the Three Billy Goats Gruff?”

Yes. Yes I will.

This tale from Norway, by the way, is an excellent story to tell by acting it out. If you happen to have three kids you can direct them in a play. If you don’t know the story, don’t worry – the part you are to play will become quite clear!

On a fine summer day, three billy goats gruff looked up at the hillside across the stream and decided the grass looked very nice over there. So the youngest billy goat set out across the wooden bridge, trip-trap-trip. Beneath the bridge lived one of the ugly trolls who dwell in the mountains of Norway, and he pulled himself up onto the bridge by his hairy hands, his long warty nose all a-wobble. “Who’s that crossing my bridge? I’ll eat you up!”

The first billy goat pointed his little horns back the way he had come. “No, wait for the second billy goat. He’s bigger than I am. Let me pass.” And he scampered the rest of the way over the bridge and onto the green hillside.

The second billy goat now stepped onto the bridge, trip-trap-trip. “Who’s that crossing my bridge?” roared the troll. “I’ll eat you up!”

“No, no!” bleated the second billy goat. “Wait for my big brother, he’s much bigger than me!” And off he trotted to the green hillside.

Now the third and biggest billy goat stepped onto the bridge. TRIP-TRAP-TRIP. “Who’s that crossing my bridge!” bellowed the troll. “I’ll gobble you up!”

“I AM CROSSING YOUR BRIDGE!” shouted the third billy goat, “AND YOU’RE NOT EATING ANYONE!” And lowering his head, he charged the troll. With his big curling horns he poked the troll’s eyes out and with his big sharp hooves he trampled the troll to bits and kicked him off the bridge. That was the end of that particular troll, swirling away in pieces down the mountain stream.

And then the third billy goat gruff went to join his brothers in the green grass meadow.

Notice that this story makes no apology for killing the troll. In stories, monsters are to be destroyed, be they dragons or trolls or giants or wolves – or man-eating sharks. Much like Beowulf or Jaws, this is a straightforward story of physical courage. It’s highly satisfying!

About Stories

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“There is a certain embarrassment about being a storyteller in these times when stories are considered not quite as satisfying as statements and statements not quite as satisfying as statistics; but in the long run, a people is known, not by its statements or its statistics, but by the stories it tells.”



                                                      ~ Flannery O’Connor

Courage is Not the Absence of Fear

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Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgment that something else is more important than fear. ~ Ambrose Redmoon

As parents, we are often faced with the decision to put the welfare of our children above that of our own.  Being a courageous parent can range from rescuing your child from near death or other peril, to fighting for your child’s right to feel safe at school and not bullied, to telling the truth about your decision to separate, to holding your child’s hand at their hospital bedside, to canceling that belated wedding anniversary vacation (the first one in 10 years) due to your child’s unexpected flu bug, to waking each morning early to ensure that you keep your job and your child has shelter, food, and the many other necessities modern life now seems to require.  Any number of opportunities present themselves everyday to us as parents to muster and model the six types of courage.  Sometimes we even fail to recognize what courage it takes to be a parent.  It takes courage to walk through the fears about our own eclipsed needs after deciding to have a child.  To accept the risks associated with loving another human being so fully and completely that they one day walk out our front door with the keys to their own castle in hand (God willing). Courage is telling the truth about who we are, apologizing when we mess up, and loving ourselves and our child in the process. 
As a child and family therapist, I frequently witness the courage and compassion parents have in advocating for their mentally ill child, their child who struggles in school because of a learning disorder, their obese child facing long-term health issues if they don’t lose some weight, or their child banished to the outskirts of social acceptance due to the arbitrary judgment of an individual or group with more social cache.  I see the heartbreak on these parents’ faces when their child is called fat, gay, stupid, or weird.  Then, I witness the tears brushed away and the smile return to greet their child’s gaze with unconditional love.  The child, in turn, is looking for that acceptance as fuel for their own courage to face the battles they must.  Sometimes as parents we feel powerless about what to do to help our child through a tough time.  But it is the decision to keep moving forward, digging together for solutions in the dark, that inspires our children to have faith in the kindness of others, hope for their future, and to develop the necessary courage associated with resilience. 

We don’t have to have all the answers.  No one does.  We just need to keep moving through fear towards hope.  When I work with children who are anxious and afraid of the dark, I learned from a fellow therapist to bring in flashlights, nightlights, candles, and those sweet little Guatemalan worry dolls (they disappear worries while tucked under pillows at night) to help make friends with the dark.  As parents, sometimes we need to call in reinforcements, ask for help ourselves, and make friends with our own fears so we can be present, brave, and our child’s own personal hero or heroine.  As parents, we are the light that can shine when our child’s world seems dark, when the monsters under the bed give fright, and no one at school seems friendly. 

I remind myself each day that having courage does not necessarily end worry or disappear fear.  Courage is the catalyst by which we move beyond fear and into faith.  We may not know exactly the right words to say when our child is sad or anxious or unhappy.  But, we can decide to push aside our petty worries and pernicious fears.  We can tell stories from our own life to offer comfort and perhaps even some inspiration.  We can hold their hand and just breathe together through the pain and confusion.  We can place our trust in the fact that as in nature, after darkness comes light.

Part of the purpose of this blog is to collect stories from parents like you, about how you nurture courage in your children.  I am curious what has required you to have courage as a parent?  What have you found powerful and helpful in teaching your own child about courage?  How has your child inspired courage in you?  If you’d like to be interviewed, too, please send me an email:  [email protected] 
We’d love to hear from you!
For more inspiration, read some of my previous profiles of parental courage: 
This is What’s True:  Anya’s Story
Never Quit: Susan’s Story
Losing it All and Gaining Everything That’s Truly Important: Robert and Emma’s Story
A Spectrum of Attachment:  Beth’s Story

What Animals Can Teach Us About Pain

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“I come into the peace of wild things who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief. For a time I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.” Wendell Berry, The Peace of Wild Things

“He who fears to suffer, suffers from fear.” French proverb

“There are more things that frighten us than injure us… and we suffer more in imagination than in reality.” Seneca
Anyone who has adopted a child in another country knows that obtaining a visa means getting a blood test and any missed vaccinations for the child. My daughter was eight when I adopted her; I went with her to the American embassy in Addis Ababa for a blood test, and the episode turned out to be the first of many frantic and nearly-hysterical encounters with needles. Without going into detail I will just say she had to be restrained. Upon returning to the States, I had to take her for more shots to bring her up to date. I always struggled to decide if it was better to warn her that there was a needle waiting for her at the doctor’s office, or let it come as a nasty surprise. I wanted her to trust that I would be honest with her, that I wouldn’t trick her, and yet the anticipation of the shot produced such distress that it seemed cruel to prolong it by an advance warning.
At twelve, she is calmer and less prone to tears at the doctor’s office. “But it does hurt,” she reminds me grimly.
“Not as much as getting hit by a truck,” I reply.
The answer to this is a glare.
“Well it doesn’t hurt as much as getting hit by a truck,” I say. “And I should know.”

The fact is I was actually hit by a truck a few years ago. A careless young man drove through a stop sign and hit me as I was crossing the street to go to the public library. Fortunately (if you can call anything about this adventure fortunate) I didn’t see him coming. I heard a sound, and had time to think That sounds like a person being hit by a car, and the next thing I knew, paramedics were strapping me onto a backboard and an ambulance was wailing its way toward the library.

The pain that was the main feature of this story didn’t start until this moment, and of course there was plenty of it. But what I’ve tried to share with the Lovely K. is that because I wasn’t expecting it, there was no fear involved. There was no anticipation of the pain to come.
I try to make this clear whenever we take one of our pets to the vet for a check-up. “Will it hurt her?” K. asks nervously, knowing a shot is due.
“She doesn’t know it’s going to happen,” I point out. “So she’s not fretting.”
Our vet is always up-beat about it. “It’s not much more than a mosquito bite,” she’ll say, grabbing a pinch of skin on the cat’s or dog’s neck. The animal looks around in surprise, and then it’s already in the past.
This is why I try to schedule vet visits for when my daughter can go with me. If she can really wrap her mind around the difference between pain and anticipating pain, she’ll be a lot more free. She’ll recognize that most of what we experience as pain is actually the fear of pain, our uncertainty about how bad it will be and how long it will last. But pain cannot be experienced when it’s over. We can remember that it hurt, but we cannot feel the pain again in our memory. I can close my eyes and picture this morning’s sunrise, or hear in my memory the sound of K.’s voice wishing me a good day as she left for school; but I cannot feel again the headache I had last night – and mercifully, I cannot feel again the pain of a broken elbow, cracked eye socket, and deep lacerations that were the result of my car accident. Yet my thoughts about that pain make me wince even now.
Those thoughts take me out of this moment and into the past, and our children’s thoughts about future pain take them out of now and into moments yet to come. To be free, we must be like the wild things of the Wendell Berry quote, and give no forethought to grief. After all, much of the time the dragon we fear turns out to be less than a mosquito.

The Monkey’s Heart

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Versions of this tale have been collected from many countries, including Korea, Japan, China, the Philippines, Tanzania and Kenya. Details change to suit local circumstances, but the gist of the story – and the payoff – remain the same. I’ve written before about the benefit of telling trickster stories. Here is a classic example of quick wits and intellectual courage in action.

Monkey loved mangoes, of course. Who does not? And his favorite mango tree had branches that reached out over a river, where a certain crocodile came quite often.

“Why do you come here, lurking and smirking?” Monkey asked one day, hanging just out of reach and eating a sweet piece of fruit.

“I come because one of these days you will slip,” Crocodile replied. “And I will catch you and take you to my king.”

Monkey laughed, and swung back up onto the branch. “Really? We’ll see about that!”

But Crocodile was patient, and one day, sure enough! – Monkey’s hands were slippery with mango juice and he fell sploosh! into the river.

“I have you now,” Crocodile said, tossing Monkey onto his bumpy back. “My king will be so pleased. A fortune-teller told him that if he ate a monkey’s heart he would live forever, and now I will be the one to deliver it to him!”

Monkey gasped. “Oh no! You’ve made a big mistake!”

“I’m sure you think so!” Crocodile said. “Now bid farewell to the world of trees and sky, and prepare to meet the world of mud and sunken bones at the bottom of the river.”

“You don’t understand,” Monkey continued, thinking fast. “I am honored to grant everlasting life to your king, but my heart is still in the tree!“

The crocodile hesitated. “What’s that?”

Pointing to the mango tree, Monkey said, “I always take my heart out and put it on a branch before I pick fruit. I thought everyone knew that. If you just let me get it I’ll be glad to go with you.”

Crocodile thought about what would happen if he presented his king a monkey with no heart.   No, the king would not be pleased at all.  With one quick whip of his tail he lunged for the shore so Monkey could hop off. “Hurry!” Crocodile commanded.

Quick as thought, Monkey climbed to the highest branch of the mango tree and laughed so hard he got an ache in his side. “You fool!” he mocked. “Whoever heard of a monkey with no heart! Your king will have to wait a long time before he ever gets mine!”

Angry and embarrassed, Crocodile sank below the surface, leaving a trail of bubbles behind. He never returned to that part of the river, because whenever he came anywhere near, he could hear Monkey laughing, laughing, laughing…

Courage Book Review – treasures from Geraldine McCaughrean

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The Golden Hoard: Myths and Legends of the WorldWe rank Geraldine McCaughrean among today’s most resourceful and exciting retellers of myths and legends from around the world.  Her vivid writing style makes her treasuries of stories gripping, funny, provocative, fascinating and beautiful.   In these books – The Golden Hoard: Myths and Legends of the World, The Silver Treasure: Myths and Legends of the World, The Bronze Cauldron Myths And Legends Of The World, and The CRYSTAL POOL: MYTHS AND LEGENDS OF THE WORLD –we have a dazzling variety of traditional tales, all gloriously illustrated by Bee Willey.  There are creation stories and trickster tales and stories of how stories came to be.  Above all, there are hero stories.  These stories of quests and courage show us how people from around the world told their tales highlighting all six types of courage.  Many of them may well be familiar favorites already, or at least ring some bells: St. George and the Dragon, Robin Hood and the Golden Arrow, Midas and the Golden Touch, the Golem, the Tower of Babel, William Tell, the Pied Piper and many others that readers may already recognize.  But there are also tales from cultures whose stories were once considered “quaint” or “curious” by Western readers.  Legends and folktales from New Zealand,  Melanesia, Bolivia, Finland, Togo and many many other places show us what is the same, and what is different, about how cultures portray courage.   I particularly liked the Hittite myth of the goddess Inaras conquering a family of dragons by feeding them until they were too fat to get back into their underground lairs.  As the old saying goes, there’s more than one way to skin a cat, and more than one way to conquer dragons.  These collections show us that in dazzling, delightful detail.   Great for reading aloud or handing to an independent reader. 
The CRYSTAL POOL: MYTHS AND LEGENDS OF THE WORLD (Illustrated Stories for Children)
The Bronze Cauldron Myths And Legends Of The WorldThe Silver Treasure: Myths and Legends of the World