Holidailies: Beginnings

Over the last few days my daughter Julia has brought up the idea of war, having been told a bit about it in school. Since she is 6, we try to keep the conversation relatively simple, although she is a very astute kind of kid and pulls no punches when discussing things that are on her mind. She told us that in school her teacher (a first year teacher—you know the type: young, enthusiastic, and still unjaded idealistic person!) told them that war happened when there were people who were fighting with each other—bad guys who were doing bad things in other places.

I suppose that I should have allowed her the latitude to believe that war was always something that was perpetrated by “bad people” and that the people who were “good” were the ones who would always be the ones defending the world against their evil crimes. But I didn’t know where to draw the line between what makes people “good” and other people “bad”.

You see, we are always lecturing the kids to stand up for themselves—Julia is a bit of a passive aggressive type—the kid who would get pushed and rather than push back or defend herself against mean comments, would cry and then plot some exacting revenge. Anyway, we are constantly at the kids to stick up for themselves—to tell people when they are uncomfortable with the status quo, to stand up for those who are unwilling or unable to stand up for themselves.

And so I think that having clear cut ideas of what makes people “good” and “bad” opens up a kettle of fish—by shoving a bully back when she has been pushed down, she has now opened herself up to the accusation of being the aggressor, the continuer of the conflict. From the outside looking in, I guess without any context, she could be seen as a bad person for engaging in aggressive behavior. Of course, it takes understanding to see why she has done what she has and that her behavior should be characterized as defensive not aggressive, but you and I know that people do not always pause to understand. Perhaps especially because Canada is known as a land of pacifists, I think that within each of us burns a certain articulation that every story has two parts and that perspective holds insights to many issues that plague our world views. That is, in short, there are no definitive “bad guys” and “good guys” except thinking that makes it so. Too difficult for a six year old to ponder, perhaps.

My 4 year old is a bit more pragmatic—she says with the blitheness of a child who has known security, warmth and love all the days of her life: if they are fighting, they should stop. And perhaps that reason holds more truth than all the rationalizations put together. Now, Elena is by no means a peacekeeper. She is an inherent fighter—one who is too stubborn for her own good “I want to do it! Myself! But you have to help me Right Now!” And we always have to remind her to be gentle, to have patience, to think before she acts. But impetuousness is in her nature and I pray that she will always know her own mind and be not afraid to speak it.It is difficult times we live in, you and I.

So, here I sit, typing in a land of ice and cold, where the snow is drifting tonight, softly coating the streets. It has been a late snowfall this year, the snow only falling within the last few weeks. We were fortunate enough to miss the snow on Halloween and the kids were able to stay out much longer because of the milder temperatures. But now the snow has arrived and with it, the dangers of black ice, forgetful drivers who have forgotten how to maneuver their vehicles over snow packed roadways, and children who underestimate the perils of walking, the chill of the wind, the numbness of the skin two minutes after exposure.

The holiday music is playing softly, the babies are blissfully asleep, and I, tired from long days and short nights, cringing from the uncertainty of the government, the frailty of the economy and the sharp concerns of the daily niggling details, feel the fullness of the moment and breathe a prayer of thanks and relief. One more day I have been granted and so we go.