A letter about exuberance and scribbling outside the lines

My Cam

You are energy embodied.

Meagie and Craig slept over last night and you were even louder than usual, because you are so happy, playing with your cousins. Dad and I kept saying, ‘Inside voice, Cammy! Use your inside voice!’

In church this morning you danced during worship, as you always do. Of course it’s not really dancing; it’s wild spinning and cavorting. Some people look at you funny. And then look at me funny, in a control-your-kid kind of way.

Then you went down to Sunday School. You were brimming afterwards. You told me how you had learned about Jesus and the donkey and people waving leaves ‘cause they didn’t have flags which you found puzzling. When we got home you convinced me to play Jesus-and-the-donkey in the playroom while Scotty slept. I had to be Mary, even though she doesn’t really feature in that particular donkey story.

Then in your own quiet trying-to-be-brave astoundingly mature way you said, ‘Mom, the other children at Sunday School said I was scribbling on my picture and that I mustn’t scribble.’

Whenever you say things like this to me – whenever the radar of your perceptive little heart picks up something resembling otherness or teasing or cruelty or innocent unbridled honesty – a bunch of things swamp me and I feel them in my heart, my face, my stomach, my legs. It’s the weirdest thing. I feel dread and fear and anger and an unbearable, over-protective, tear-threatening pity. The lines become blurry for me, too. And I go into super-cheerful mode and I laugh and hug you and say how ridiculous! Because you are simply the best scribbler in the known universe and who cares about the staying in the lines. I mean, like, how boring!

Here’s what I really want to say to you today.

Jesus scooped great dollops of creativity into your DNA, that’s for sure. Along with a unique disability, the cause thereof and reason therefore inexplicable. The world, whether spitefully or magnanimously, will sometimes try to mash your creativity and your disability – your ideas and your differences – into neat and normal moulds. Because ideas and differences can be unnerving for the world, or misunderstood.

So:

Keep shouting. There’s a time to use your inside voice, to spare the wider neighbourhood. But God has given you a unique story to tell. Don’t ever let anyone tell you to shut up when you’re moved to speak boldly for him.

Keep dancing. There’s a time to be calm. But God has given you plenty to celebrate before a watching world. David, the man after God’s own heart, danced before the Lord. People looked at him funny too.

Keep scribbling. There’s a time to stay inside the lines. But God has a plan for your creativity and zest and out-of-the-boxness. When other kids cope better than you, don’t let it get to you. Appreciate the clarity of their vision – it’s their gift from God, and he called it good. Then do your best. Enjoy just adding the loveliness and life of colour to black and white. (Anyway, I’m pretty sure some of the best artists ever didn’t care about staying inside the lines.)

I pray for you, little man, that God would draw the lines for your life – dark, bold, easy for you to see. I pray that as you stay inside the lines he draws for you, your creativity would be channelled and set free to accomplish more than you could hope or dream. I pray that God would shape the happy messy conglomeration of all your intensity and passion (even the kind that you display during your most impressive tantrums…) to his purposes, for his Kingdom and his glory.

All my love to you, brave shining star,

Mom

xx

Note to my Scott-Scott:

This is you entering the intoxicating world of Romany Creams.

This is you playing hide and seek at bedtime. You always hurtle to this curtain, wrap yourself in it, then stand still as a statue, giggling.

Scotty, you are pure love and affection. Forgive the cheesy John Denver allusion, but you really do fill up my senses. Your hugs are warm and sincere and fleshy and cuddly and heavy and deeply satisfying. Cam has been calling you his ‘happy little chappie’, and his ‘best friend forever’. He says he loves you much more than he loves me! :) You and Lola also have such an awesome bond. Your Lola-hugs are never incidental. You seek her out and love on her very purposefully with all that your little arms and face can nuzzle into her fur.