Plastic ties and duct tape are literally holding my 2002 Honda Odyssey van together. In the last year, I have had a string of fender benders, making my van look like a grown up bumper car! Today I had a run in with a light post, backing out of a parking lot. Completely preventable right? Fully my fault. Ugh! Thankfully each ‘accident’ has involved only me, my vehicle and an inanimate object.
I have been driving for over thirty years and had not experienced the grating and tearing sound of metal being crushed, pulled and torn against a solid object; it is somewhat jarring. And today, since I was backing out of a community centre, I had an audience. They stared at me, I said a few expletives in my head and then waved to them and smiled, as if to say, “It’s okay, I totally meant to do that – I am undergoing vehicle durability tests for Honda.” I backed out again, briefly stopped to look at the light post, and then sped off, as if I had an important date with another pole just down the street.
We make preventable mistakes all the time. But some cost more than others. As a soccer coach and long-time player, I am constantly aware of the times and places on the field where mistakes are either costly or forgivable. For example, if you duff the ball in front of the net you are attacking, it is no big deal. You have the luxury of putting your hands on your head and crumpling into a heap on the ground in disbelief. Conversely, if you do exactly the same thing in front of the net you are defending, the potential cost is greater, and there is no time for a woe-is-me moment. You have to attempt to right the wrong – and NOW.
And so it is with Faven, I make preventable mistakes quite regularly. I put tomato on her sandwich, I speak sternly to get her attention, I make demands that may not be reasonable, I use sarcasm and idioms to insult her, knowing that she won’t get it, and there are times when I discount her irrational emotions and feelings without inquiry. I could do better, or at least do (it) differently. Not all of these mistakes are costly – although with Faven you never know.
God blessed me with this particular child, by matching us with a soccer player. Faven and I share our love of the field, our passion for the game. The very first time I watched her play, less than two weeks after she arrived in Calgary, I was shaken by the fact that she played soccer like me – fiery, determined and strong. It made the fine hairs on my arms stand up, and brought tears to my eyes. Now, twenty months later, our mutual love of the game is like a moving sea between us. When we are moving up the field together, supporting one another, the mistakes are forgivable – they even go unnoticed. And though I may at times feel bad for an infraction, I can easily ‘fix it up’ with a clean pass the next time.
However, Faven and I, in our weekly living often face off as opponents. So, eventually and exceedingly often these days, the ball comes between us and we each strike toward it with a determination that is hard to quell. There is a fire in our eyes and strength in our bodies propelling us blindly towards the other, knowing that only one can win the ball. Neither of us realizes in that moment that there are other options. And we each address the ball with a heart full of past hurts and a brain cheering us on loudly with thoughts and ideas created out of past experiences. The desire to win the moment outstrips our greater desire for a healthy long-term relationship, one with dignity intact.
It is interesting to me that some of what Faven struggles with is the same thing I struggle with (no coincidence, I am sure). My belief in love was dimmed when my mom and dad separated and then when my dad made the choice to separate from parenting too. My inner dialogue often goes something like this, How could a father not love his daughter? How is that even possible? Of course there was so much more going on and we could argue the question (of love) until we are breathless, the fact remains, he left. I have memories, thoughts and feelings about that critical event in my life that lead me to question whether I am loveable. Faven too, with her history of adults leaving and disappointing her has questions about love. She strides toward it like a player on a break-away, and then when it bears down on her, she recoils as if the pain of a loving being is too much to bear. Love has hurt her and even though she is a team player, she often strikes out on her own, weaving through people and events as if she is being chased.
This past year has been tough. My van is the embodiment of how I have been beaten and bruised through my many run-ins with Faven. If I were to be turned inside out, so that my heart and soul were showing, there would be many seeping and weeping wounds; I would be covered in duct tape. The van is constructed so that the parts essential for continued operation are protected by the hard outer shell, and even though the exterior is beaten up, it is still capable of getting from here to there. And though no one can see the external shell that protects me, I too am cushioned during turmoil, judgment is suspended and I am forgiven my shameful acts, so that I can steer back into the day, following a course not known, yet guided by an inner strength that leaves me in awe at times.
