FU JB Continued

When a hurting child called me Jerk Bitch, I embraced JB as part of me.  I knew that I needed to tear down some walls of pride, control, and social appropriateness in myself, in order to tear down some walls of hurt and defense in my children.  I often get asked, "Don't you worry about your children being exposed to inappropriate behaviors in your home?".  Of course I do.  I also worry about them hearing the f-word on the playground, on the bus, and at the grocery store.  I worry about them witnessing, or being victim to, bullying.  I worry about them crossing the street, choking on grapes, and blowing their noses.  I worry about all of them, all of the time.

With good intentions, fear, and limited understanding, people have told us that we are doing irreparable harm to our family.  That our efforts are wasted and our intentions are misguided.  There are people who have no tolerance for JB. 

Considering the advice of some of these people, we could have easily and maybe justifiably, not tolerated JB in our home.  We could have said that it was inappropriate, unacceptable, filthy, and rude. We could have moved a child out of our home the first time a block or a fist was thrown, the first time an f-bomb was spewn, the first time a JB was uttered.   We would have been supported and possibly applauded in doing so.  

What happens when we don't tolerate JB in our lives?  We are comfortable, not offended, and not inconvenienced.  We are protected from inappropriateness, ugliness, and hurt.  We are keeping love to ourselves, and not sharing it; we are selfish JB's.

I will say it again, I am not a cursing woman, except when I am.  Love must transcend appropriateness. Love must transcend niceties and comfortable expectations.  If I can't love, and be home, to a child who calls me JB, what am I? I am really JB.  

My children, all of them, have heard language, stories, and life experiences that should never be heard by anyone.  What happens, when it is heard in my home, is that I am there.  I am there to tell them that it is not ok.  I am there to tell them that it is inappropriate and unacceptable.  I am there to tell them that behind every hurtful word, is a hurting person. I am there to tell them that I will love them, regardless of the words that come out of their mouths.  I am there to tell them that I see their preciousness beyond their words and actions.  I am there to tell them that hurting people hurt people.

Our children deserve love.  They ALL deserve love.  Because my children were exposed to JB, because JB was tolerated in my home, they know that THEY were tolerated. They know that they deserve love.  They know that they are expected to love and tolerate people that are hurting.  

We need to look beneath the surface.  Lift the veil.  See the hurt.  Our comfortable lives are comfortable because we don't look beneath the surface, lift the veil, or see the hurt.  People don't say offensive things to offend you.  It's NOT ABOUT YOU.  It's about them.  People say offensive things and do offensive things because they have been hurt and offended. 

My child said "FU JB" because he had heard "FU JB" from Every. Person. In. His. Life.  

If I would have sent him away, he would have heard the same thing from me. 

My children are strong and amazing.  They see someone acting out in public, swearing or being rude, and they can say "that person must be hurting".   They understand and can articulate what is appropriate vs. inappropriate with wisdom beyond their years.  I have no regrets about the things they have seen and heard.  

The world is ugly.  Most people only see the ugly side.  My family has seen the redemption, the grace, and the transforming power of love.  My children would have never seen the beautiful transformation,  if we didn't allow it to happen.  My children would have never experienced the beautiful transformation, if we didn't allow it to happen.  They would have never seen the light, if we had we stopped in the darkness. 

There is healing power in being accepted, welcomed, and embraced for who you are.  Our communion table was intended to overflow with the imperfect, broken, socially inappropriate, and unacceptable.  When all the veils are lifted, which is more troubling;  a hurting child who throws blocks and swears, or a hurting adult who can't see the precious child beneath the JB?   The truth is, they are both troubling.

We are all hurting, and we all fall short.  What we can do, is to join in communion together.  We can break bread and share life with each other; sinner and saint, each of us playing each role, each of us sinner, each of us saint, each to the other.  We are each others.  There is no other.

For a space and time, I was JB to a child.  For all my days, I will hear his voice and be reminded that he and I are kindred.  Hurting, scared, unsure, and loved.