The following is an entry from my CiViL Groups Log on October 5, 2005. All names have been changed to protect privacy.
The Power of a Question
It’s amazing how a simple question can bring out a story. Today’s question wasn’t special. I usually start group by asking, “How are you doing in these seven areas of your life (physically, mentally, emotionally, relationally, spiritually, academically, and vocationally)?” The boys take it from there. They may have a lot to say, or they may not. Today they told some powerful stories.
A Hard Fall
David jumped off the roof a couple of years ago. He landed hard, as you might guess, injuring his leg. That injury messed up his summer; though, if truth be told, David’s summer was already messed up. And he had already come down hard in another way. He jumped off the roof to try to get away from the other hard landing.
Earlier that spring, as he was finishing up seventh grade, David’s grandmother died after a long illness. She was the kind of grandmother everybody wishes for, a little old lady who would talk straight to you when you needed it, but who would also encourage you. She had age’s wisdom and youth’s warm heart. When she died David lost one of his most important allies, and he was devastated.
Lost and Alone
Unfortunately, David didn’t know how to ask for help. He didn’t have to do that when his grandmother was alive. She just seemed to know when he needed her. Now that she was gone, his world crashed in around him. He didn’t know who to talk to. He didn’t know how to bring it up. He believed the lie they tell on the streets in east Nashville, “Boys have to be strong.” David wasn’t strong. He felt lost and alone, and he was desperate to get away from those feelings.
Friends in Need
Oddly enough, David’s desperate attempt to fly away from his sorrow struck a chord in his neighborhood. His friends came to visit him while he was recuperating from his fall. They asked him why he did it, and he told them the truth. They were sobered by his heartbreak and sorry they hadn’t offered their help earlier. They told him he didn’t have to be alone. They would “watch his back,” meaning that he could talk to them. Of course they said all this in the tough, shy language of adolescent boys but they said it. After that David felt like his neighborhood buddies were watching out for him. It didn’t make the pain go away, but it helped him get through it.
School Was Cool
After David told his story, Eduardo wanted to tell one. Eduardo loved school when he first started. At first his mom would take him right to the door, and she would wait for him at the same spot when school was out. Once he got used to school, she let him ride the bus. He loved that. It made him feel like a big kid. She would walk him to the bus stop every morning, and she would be waiting for him every afternoon when the bus dropped him off. Everything worked. School was cool. He could do the work. He felt big and smart. None of it was scary because everything was taken care of. Even when the work got difficult, Mom was there to help him. When he got discouraged, she knew how to talk him into believing that he could do it. And he could.
A Lost Little Kid
When Eduardo was six years old, his mom was killed in a car accident. After that, he just gave up. Why try, if Mom isn’t here to help? He lost his belief that he could navigate the difficult waters of school by himself. He failed – over and over. No one seemed to know how to help him. It’s been 8 years, since Eduardo’s mama died. He is doing better in school now, but he doesn’t believe he’ll ever regain what he lost – academically or emotionally. Somewhere inside he still feels like a lost little kid.
Eduardo doesn’t like to think about his mom anymore. He puts on a tough face like every other fifteen year old boy. He doesn’t go visit her grave. It still hurts too much. He doesn’t know if it will ever get better.
Under the Mask
Everyone needs help at one time or another. Little children know it because they are small and the world is so big. As they get older, they learn that they are supposed to be tough. They are afraid they will be mocked for needing anything, so they put on a smooth, calm mask that tells the world, “I’m ok. I’ve got it all under control. I’m just fine.” Underneath the mask they aren’t fine. They still need help.
Half Time
David described his recovery from losing his granny with a football metaphor. He said he is at half time, and he’s down by 14 points. He’s not where he wants to be, but he’s made progress. The fact that he has friends who care for him has kept him in the game. He will always miss his grandmother, but with some hard work, he thinks he’s going to be ok. Eduardo isn’t that far along. He says he is at the end of the first quarter, same score. He hopes he can get through high school, but he still wishes he had his mother’s encouragement to back him up.
Both David and Eduardo agreed that you can’t recover quickly from losing someone your really love and depend on. Even if you have passed the point of crying about it, there is still something missing. You can cover your feelings, but that doesn’t make the feelings go away. Without help, you can drift into apathy. Why care, if nobody else does? Or you can flash into rage. How dare everyone expect me to perform when I feel like this? Either way, you lose.
Taking Off the Mask
I can’t replace David’s grandmother or Eduardo’s mother, but I can give them both a place to tell their stories. Like David’s neighborhood friends, this group can “watch his back.” We can listen to him and try to understand what he’s going through. He and Eduardo can tell each other that they’re not alone. That may be the most important thing about sharing stories. For a few minutes each week, David, Eduardo and their buddies in this group can take off the tough-guy mask and tell the truth. It won’t make their losses go away, but it might someplace to go when they need help. And that can keep them going until they feel strong again.