My son Lincoln has always been afraid of loud noises. We first discovered this with one of those toy cars that you drag backwards across the floor and then release to shoot them forward. When we wound up the wheels and let them loose without the floor to slow them down, they made a loud, high-pitched noise that consistently scared him and caused him to cry. This same reaction came whenever we used the food processor, the blender, or the vacuum. Whenever I turned on the vacuum, my son would hide behind my leg and quiver with fear. It was often so bad you could see him tremble.
However, recently my wife took a video of our son exhibiting a new behavior. His thick, stubby legs were pumping quickly as he danced closer and then farther away from the vacuum. His hands were held out with caution, and he kept making loud, excited noises, something between a chirping laugh and a scream. It is a hilarious video, and one that I will treasure for the rest of my life.
And that could be where it ends for this experience and many others that are heart-warming but common. However, this morning I had scheduled to write about my son in GoldMind (I’ve scheduled to write about him every Tuesday, Thursday, and Sunday). I have 5 writing exercises currently tagged with my Topic for Lincoln, which means I can pick from any of them each time I write about him. They are:
- Moments of Awe – to help me capture truly special moments that make me see what a miracle my son is every day. I never want to lose that sense of wonder I had for him when he was first born.
- Remembering the Good Moments – to make sure I capture all the fun, crazy, and hilarious things Link does. These entries are a lot of fun to go back and read.
- Confronting Difficult Behavior – haven’t had to use this one too much yet, but as he gets into toddler years I anticipate using it more.
- Giving Myself An ‘Oops’ – for when I fall short as a parent, to help me practice self-compassion, a trait I want my son to learn.
- Learning From Everyone – this is a great exercise for pausing to reflect on a life lesson you could learn from someone else.
This morning I chose, “Learning From Everyone” since it had been a while. While it isn’t a complicated set of prompts, they are powerful. Here are the questions I responded to this morning as I reflected on my son:
Reflect on a situation with someone where you realized there was an important lesson you could learn. What were the circumstances?
What did they teach you? How can what you learned be applied to your life?
There is so much we can learn if we slow down, reflect, and observe. Many of those lessons come from the people we interact with each day, no matter how old they are or what their position is in life. Henry Eyring’s father once told him, “I never met a man I couldn’t learn something from,” and I believe that’s true for everyone.
So, back to my son. What did I learn from him? He was clearly still afraid of the vacuum, but something about it also began to excite him. He had made a subtle but important shift in his mind away from what he feared–the noise–to another aspect the same experience, resulting in a completely different outcome. That’s a powerful principle.
Lincoln taught me not to allow what terrifies me to control my life. Instead I can ask, “What do I find exciting or interesting about this situation? Can I replace even a part of my fear with curiosity or humor?” Essentially, if I’m internally screaming with terror about something, can I also find something to laugh about?
I really needed this today. It’s easy for me to let fear rule my decisions right now as I’m trying to share my brainchild with the world. I’m unsure how to tell people about GoldMind in a way that helps them realize the power, clarity, and peace it could bring into their lives. I’m afraid that after so much effort, it will be dismissed or just won’t be good enough. But I’m going to focus on the interesting process of learning how to communicate ideas. I’m going to allow myself to celebrate and get excited about each piece of feedback, both the positive and the negative.
I’m grateful for that 15 second clip of my son, screaming, laughing, and side-stepping his way around the vacuum that both frightens and fascinates him. I’m grateful to have been able to reflect on his courage.
