The world stops when a child cries and cannot be comforted. My son is a middle-schooler now. I was never a middle schooler and I was never a boy, and I did not get my emotional needs met perfectly when I was growing up. So, I look in my tool box, and wonder what is going to help me and my son when he is comparing himself unfavorably to his classmates. My love was no cure tonight. And I talked too much, and I was shoved away a lot, with each attempt to give a reassuring pat.
Quite simply, my walk and talk were lame, but I did not abandon either of us.
Thank God tomorrow is another day. Parents are imperfect people. I have had to learn myself, to accept my son's comforting hugs when I was most down on myself. I guess, I thought that when it was his turn to receive, he would be fully receptive. It hurt me at first that he would not let me take away his hurts. And then I realized that in the world of stormy emotions, fairness may not be possible. I will need patience to see this through. And the tiniest bit of faith tempered by the doubt that keeps me honest?