Owen's return to Joy from Fear

Have you ever been stuck in life? You couldn't get yourself to do something because your emotions held you back? Courage is what happens when we join hearts in moments of fear, discovering God's presence in ourselves and each other. Jesus is in our midst. He has said, I will never leave you nor forsake you. Behold (notice) I am with you always!

 Several weeks ago, my 7 year old son Owen fell at the pool, he was badly scraped up. I held him, heart-to-heart, while my wife, Dawn, got bandages. I could feel him calm as our breathing matched and our hearts beat together. Our closeness helped him get through that moment, but there was a week of painful healing ahead of us, with lots of crying over changing bandages. 

One week later, we went for our first time back at our pool. Owen had not put on his bathing suit before we left home. I could feel the unusual discomfort in him as he said, “I don't want to swim today. Not today.”

 I let it go. It's cool outside; not much time here anyway. I dove in and began to swim laps. I saw Owen playing in a puddle with a tennis ball at the edge. He seemed content enough, yet I felt troubled as I swam. Something is not right here. And then I felt it, as I looked at the edge of the pool. This was where he fell a week ago. I could sense in my body that intense fear and the hot flash of anguish that came upon me in the instant I saw him tumble across the corner and hit the rough cement. He could have been hurt much worse.

 Oh dear Jesus, I prayed as I swam to the side, he's being triggered by that memory. That's why he doesn't want to swim! How can we help him work through this?

 Owen stood and bounced the ball in a puddle and I asked him about it. "Buddy? Are you feeling scared because you remember when you fell here?" 

He nodded, “Yeah, I guess so. I don't want to swim.” 

I could feel in me the concern and tension rising as I tread water clinging to the side of the pool. "That was really hard wasn't it? You’re healed now though, no more bandages."

Bounce went the ball. 

I remembered the time when he fell while trying to learn to ride a bike, more than a year ago. He got the smallest scrape on his knee, and still hasn't been willing to throw a leg over and try again. I want to help him overcome his fears, but I know that if I focus on the outcome, rather than his feelings, I'll lose him.

 "You even went swimming in that pool at the party yesterday. That was so brave." 

"Yeah, but that was that pool. It wasn’t this pool" he said. And I could feel the hesitation in his voice. I could sense he needed space, so I swam another lap and then came back to him.

“You fell when you were jumping that corner right there didn't you?” 

“Yeah, that's where it was.” 

“Was Jesus there when it happened?” 

“Yeah, He was there.” 

I remembered how I held him as he cried and twitched in pain, hoping that he felt God’s love through me.

Bounce went the ball, splash in the puddle. 

"You know, you could go to your garden to be with Jesus there." We both identify strongly with the garden and fountain imagery of scripture and often meet Jesus in that context as we pray together.

 He threw the ball in the pool and it made a bigger splash. I handed it back to him. He said, "Yeah, I have a swimming pool in my garden too, like this one, but the diving board is triple high, much bigger than that one." 

Oh! He's feeling brave in his heart.

 When I was a child I was afraid of the dark, the basement, swimming in strange pools, seaweed, going to the bathroom at school, you name it. My family didn't understand my fear very well. They laughed at my silliness, they tried to fix, they shook their heads in confusion, but they didn't know how to attune to my feelings. Who wants to be with someone else in their irrational fear? I’m not sure that I know how to do this, for Owen, but I want to learn.

 "You know, you fell from outside the pool, you'd be less likely to fall again if you came into the pool." I let him ponder this logic as I swam away again. When I came up for a breather on my next lap, I saw no sign of him. Oh no! Was my logic too insensitive? Did you run away? “Owen!” I called his name but got no answer.

So I got out to look for him and found him hanging his head as he sat far from the pool on the picnic bench. I could feel his sadness and shame, I could feel it in my own chest. I was a little discouraged, but not done yet. Dripping wet, I sat down next to him. I wanted to pray with him and lead him to Jesus to listen, but the voice in my heart said, “You lead him.” 

So I said, “That was really hard when you got hurt wasn't it?” And then I got quiet. 

“Yeah”, he nodded. 

Gently I said, “I was so scared when I saw that you had fallen” Silence. “Were you scared too?” 

Often Owen will get angry with me when I try to draw out his feelings, but this time he didn’t. We sat there, looking down at our knees. He showed me his mostly healed wound and I could still see the place where the puncture had been deepest. Then he shifted. Something changed about his whole demeanor and he stood up and said, “I want to put my suit on and go swimming now.” 

And he did. And we did. 

We swam short laps in the shallow end. He gave me high-fives at water level and splashed me in the face each time we took a breather at the edge. He even began to swim the butterfly, a stroke I've never seen him try before. I was surprised and overjoyed at his enthusiasm. Together we had made it through a trauma, and returned to joy.

This story may not seem like much to you, but for me it is a milestone. My parenting style was manipulative by default when my kids were born. I only knew how to use threats, arguments, or rewards to try to get them to do things. They didn’t really trust me enough to connect with me when I tried to feel their feelings with them. I didn’t know how to change that bad habit of mine. I’ve now learned that it is our secure emotional bond that gives me influence in my children’s lives. It’s not about outcomes; it’s about sharing our hearts. The practice of joyful connection, and learning how to attune with the feelings of others, has taken me on a journey into my children’s hearts. Where before I only had a kind of parental logic that never helped, now I have this pull in my heart to feel their feelings with them, attune to their hearts, and walk through things together.