Kimberly Emerson

A few years back, I got an email from an old friend.  The news was delightful – Naomi and her husband had put in a request to adopt two children.  The couple already had a daughter and a son, and Naomi had always wanted a big family.  The prospective adoptees had had some rough times, including a stint in foster care.  My friend and her husband are two of the most loving, nurturing, spiritual people you could ever hope to meet.  Every kid deserves parents like that, parents who would give their lives for them, but particularly children who’ve had it tough.  Especially the ones who’ve been through a couple of homes.  No one should earn the title “nomad” before the title “teenager.”

It took two years before Naomi and her husband could officially adopt the children.  When the legalities were finally settled, they  had the kids baptized in their church, and gave them each middle names to commemorate their new lives as children of Christ.  Not only did the two young folks like their new names, they both requested to be addressed by those names from now on.

Naomi told this to all of us that had been following the saga.  When I heard, I wondered if it was a good idea.  Evidently Naomi did too, or at least realized that many of us would be busy making judgments about things that weren’t our business.  She talked to the social worker, and found out that the decision to switch names was common with children who’d been in foster care.  Her advice was to respect the kids’ decision.

It makes sense, when you think about it.  The kids had found a home where they felt secure and loved.  They wanted to start fresh, and leave all the bad stuff behind.

I flashed back to the story of Naomi and her family this past week, while having coffee with friends.  We talked about someone who’d survived a very bad car accident, but sustained some brain damage.  He could still walk and think and function, but not always the same way that he had before.  The changes frustrated both him and his family.  My friend Diana (whose awesomeness we have discussed before) summed it up well in saying that even though he had survived the accident, the person his family knew before – the person he knew before – was gone.  They needed to deal with the person who was there now.

It’s totally understandable that he and his family would resist that idea.  I would, too.  This change was not of their making.  It was forced on them.  Why should they have to accept that?  At least Naomi and her family were dealing with a good change.  How many of us would embrace the idea of saying, “Yesterday, I was John.  I had an excellent memory and could process new information easily.  Today, I’m Frank.  I have a hard time remembering things, and you’ll probably have to show me how to do something several times, on more than one day, before I get the hang of it.”

Three, two, one – JUMP!

Truthfully, even good change scares us sometimes.  There’s a reason why many people resist getting married or having children or even getting a pet.  Once you do these things, you are different.  You can never really go back to being the same person that you were before.  I love having Zoe around the house, and someday if I do have to say good-bye to her (you know, assuming we don’t both get blown to Oz in the same hurricane – it could happen)  I’ll miss her like crazy.  But it’s not just that.  I am different because of her.  She’s the first real pet I’ve ever had.  We had birds, but they both died when I was small (I was maybe five, six at the outside).  Because of Zoe, I get sad whenever I see “lost pet” signs.  Stories about animal abuse make me cry.  I don’t mean a little excess moisture you can blink away and blame on allergies.  We’re talking water dribbling down cheeks, stifling a sob, I-have-to-go-blow-my-nose-so-I-don’t-drip-snot-on-my-shirt kind of tears.  Before I had Zoe, I saw these things, and I knew that an animal was missing or had been hurt.  Now, I know what it’s like to look at an animal that’s sick or been hurt, to see in its eyes that it needs my help.  I know what it’s like to love that little creature, so much that there would be a hole in my heart if she weren’t there.  I know that some people think that’s silly, and I don’t care.  The old me, the one who didn’t feel that pain in the pit of her stomach when she heard an animal was suffering?  She’s gone, and even if I find myself petless some day, she’s not coming back.

Of course, when I got Zoe, I didn’t know that it would make me a different person.  That’s probably a good thing.  If I’d known, I might have hesitated to adopt her.  I’m not good at wholesale change, even in good things.  If I’m dealing with a bad thing, I want to learn from my mistakes, so that I know that the pain served a purpose.  If I’m dealing with a good thing, I want to get to know it gradually, and make sure I like it.  I want an escape clause.  But sometimes, I think I could learn a lot from Naomi’s kids.  Maybe in trying to grow from the past, be it good, bad or indifferent, I’m clinging to it, and I just need to let go.

It’s hard to know where that boundary is.  I can spot it in other people, usually because it’s annoying.  One episode of The Office featured a conversation between two of the characters, Jim and Kelly, that went something like this:

KELLY:  Wouldn’t it have been great if that had happened?

JIM: Yeah, it would.  But it didn’t.

KELLY:  But what if it had?  Wouldn’t it be great?

JIM:  Yeah. Yeah, it would have.  (BEAT).  But it didn’t, so, you know, you have to move on.

KELLY:  But if it had…that would have been really great, right?

It went on and on like that.  When I watched that episode my head hurt, because I’ve had that conversation with people.  I know I’ve done Jim’s part, and while I manage to avoid thinking about it most of the time, I’ve done Kelly’s part more than once.

We get like that.  We hold on to the thing that we wanted, even though we can’t have it.  Or we hold on to the thing that we didn’t want, because we’re waiting for adequate compensation for our suffering.  Either way, nothing changes from us holding on, except that people get tired of listening to us read Kelly’s part of the script over and over again.

We get so bogged down with what was or wasn’t that we forget to pay attention to what is.  Let’s face it: you may not want to let go of the past, but like it or not, the past has let go of you.

The kindest way I ever heard this came from Patti, one of my yoga teachers.  I am something of a perfectionist by nature, and tried hard to do all the poses exactly the way the instructor showed us.  Balance is a big part of yoga.  Some days mine worked.  Some days it didn’t.  “But I could do it yesterday!”  I would cry in disappointment.

“That was the you from yesterday,” Patti would explain gently.  “Now we’re dealing with the you today.”

That guy you liked told you he isn’t attracted to you.  That job that you wanted went to someone else.  That child in the bedroom next door really is yours, and you will always care about them.  The you that had a chance to be with him, or work at that great company, or or look at a crying child without feeling like someone is taking scissors to your heart is gone.  And with no rehearsal at all, you have to jump into the role of this new person.  Ready or not.

This knowledge kind of sucks, but maybe it can help us to be kinder to each other.  As we walk clumsily through the theater of life, struggling for our lines, we need to remember that everyone we meet is, just like us, on stage for the first time today.

Or you can just tell them, “Hey, Naomi’s kids started again.  You can too.”  Ignore the uncomprehending stares.

Today’s Kimberly is brought to you by Challenge, Experience, and the number 5.

Tags: acceptance, animals, change, insecurity, names, pets, The Office, yoga