Listening for Life

Darkness, Dolphins, and the Kingdom Within

Several years ago, my family was confronted with a difficult situation. Without getting too deep into the weeds of the New York City public school system with its charter schools, magnet schools, zoned schools, unzoned schools, dual-language programs, gifted and talented programs, sibling priority, and lotteries—I’ll just say that my five-year-old daughter had missed an opportunity to be placed at the same school as her two older brothers. Their school—well-regarded and highly sought after—was already miles away and in a different borough from where we lived. It seemed logistically impossible to be able to handle dropping off and picking up our children at two different schools that were not close to our home. My frustration and anxiety about how we could possibly make it work were pretty clear to my daughter. Rather than absorbing my emotional distress, however, she let it bounce off her and sent it back at me: “Just because I didn’t get into the school my mom wanted me to get into . . .” she said, with all the sass and accusation a five-year-old is capable of.

The situation itself was difficult, but hearing her put it in that perspective was disorienting. I heard the acknowledgment that she had disappointed me, but I also heard that it had been unfair of me to expect so much from her. I heard that I should have been more open to other results, and that she still needed somewhere to land. The sharp focus I’d had became a weapon that cut a gash in our path, but it was her words that opened up an entirely different perspective. I’m not sure if it was the bottom dropping out exactly—it could have been a skylight opening, or a wall falling away—but what was clear was that my world was different, and I would have to move through it differently. 

But at first I couldn’t seem to move at all. I felt lost in the dark, not unlike a child tentatively opening the door of an unlit room, afraid to step inside. Of all the childhood fears, it seems that fear of the dark is the most persistent. The ability to summon scary creatures and scenarios is one that continues throughout our lives—in both the physical and spiritual realms—and staying in a well-lighted, familiar place is an extremely attractive alternative. Which is why, as I faced this school situation, I hesitated, searching for any way to close that door and continue on the path we had already been walking—even if it was challenging in its own way. I wanted, perhaps, to hide under the bed.