Dear Camble,
"I'm not crying for me." The most uncomfortable and inspiring words I've heard, Buddy.
When it is tempting to lose my kindness I am reminded of the compassion you exemplify. When the boy at wrestling practice slapped you across the face last week and called you names for not going along with doing something your Dad told you not to be doing, you couldn't explain the embarassment and tears. I get it Camble. I finally get it. It's your life and your struggles and we're certainly struggling and hoping for you too, but the biggest struggle is to hold on to your kindness and treat others with compassion, even when you're wronged. Especially when you've been wronged. Even when they use the same anger that hurt you to try to blame you for their own actions so they don't have to be accountable. You've taught me empathy, by example, over and over again. You've shown me love, when it mattered the most. You are love alive. When your dad needed the information to try take action I saw you try to offer reassurance to us and, still, for the boy that slapped you. It's me who should be reassuring you. I thought I knew generosity but I haven't had a clue. I put my hand on your father's arm, I haven't felt empathy so deeply in quite awhile. "Ben, he's not crying for him."
"I'm not crying for me."
I see it now. I see why "Jesus wept." I feel why He could do that. You cried for the same reason we all cry when we witness someone choosing to disparage themselves. Making the compromise. The essence of true loss.
I know the peace you needed when we watched the video of you being harassed on the bus. I forgot to say out loud to you, because I wouldn't know how, that I came to terms with your suffering being your own path, as we all have our own. Seeing that video enlightened your Dad and I to your spirit. You put kindness into action, too many times. It was too many times Camble and you did it over and over. You gave respect and consideration again and again and denied the parts of yourself that whispered to handle it a different way. When you needed help and you needed someone around you to take an interest you were left all alone in a bus full of people, doing nothing to help you, but you rose above. Yet, you somehow understand that you weren't going to remain the victim in all of that. No mud, no lotus. You are beauty, Sweet Son. You're struggling now and we all want better days to come, but I have faith you'll go somewhere with this. Whatever "this" is. You wouldn't be struggling if it didn't mean so much. Which is a hard thing to understand right now. Hard to stand back and witness as a parent, but we've always had faith that you kidz came to us as yourselves. When we can't be there to interfere with the ugly and participate in helping you we're left with a lot of negative emotions, as your Mom and Dad, and I'll tell you, it's kind of scary. You've consistently asked us to forgive and ".... let's just talk about something else."
I know that it means a lot to you to hold onto the promise of kindness. It means a lot to me too, Camble. Like why I plant the garden sometimes in the rain. Because it's in me. It's worth it, come what may. Later on, remember, when you came to me and confessed that if I had seen the video then I had watched you take an interest and choose to help the boy with his homework? That was all you Camble. That was your own choice, when it was hard, because he's treated you poorly in the past. Not as a bribe or manipulation, because you've never learned how to charm. It hasn't occurred to you to vie for anyone's favor. Yes, I saw you. Your sincere presence. I saw you uncomfortable for a long time, which was so hard, but I also saw you find comfort in helping too, and it had nothing to do with benefiting you. You just put it out there for the universe. That is what service is Camble. And there's another word, which I thought I knew, but you showed me through your actions. Altruism. "If you saw the video then you saw that I helped him with his homework. I thought you guys might ... be ... ashamed of me for helping him. So, I didn't write that down in all of the things that happened." That told me we've been doing this for too long Baby, and our conversations of trying to teach you how to protect yourself have gone too far. I praised you for being correct in your defenses and you had to confess to me your kindness. I'm sorry, Buddy. Where has this lead me? I'll fix that in me. For you.
Now I know why Chief Joseph said, "I will fight no more, forever ...." I understand what brought him to that place inside himself.
When I watched that video of you on the bus, last month, I couldn't help but think of what the video of you being hurt in the bathroom last year would have shown. The video I've played in my heart a million times over, because I'm your Mom. It's happened but I'm still trying to save you from it. I think I must have done something wrong or failed to not teach you to be more skeptical. Failures are our lessons but there is no comfort in that failure. My inadequacies didn't make it happen any less. You weren't wrong to be trusting and innocent. It's what my mind does to occupy my heart so it doesn't have to accept that it happened, for real. What if the boy that threw you around the bathroom could return there, to kindness, in himself, to believe he had enough and he didn't have to rob from anybody else? Camble, you directed your Dad and I when we wanted our anger to justify punishment you asked us to be compassionate. You told us you weren't safe but "I can't hurt anybody." We didn't tell too many people about what happened to you because people seemed to think your kindness made you an easy target and that was hurtful to hear. How can someone be "too kind?" Does that justify not actively preserving that kindness? There is nothing wrong with you, Camble. There is something so amazing about you. So amazing and wonderful. You aren't to be faulted for being sincere. There are things that have hurt people when they tried to be brave and be themselves and being touched by love and kindness sometimes reminds them of those hurts and how they hurt others so they have to deny kindness or they have to change. Maybe they lost their way. Kindness will make some of us adults realize we are impostors in our own lives. We're afraid to be the somebody. I was judged for being "a different person" than other parents when I didn't retaliate with vengeance in your honor. People expected more of me, but we love differently. And I know your honor Camble. It's a quiet, unassuming nobility. Valuing your dignity shouldn't have meant you were pitied and we were disregarded as if we were weak or allowed the damage. We didn't accept the lies. We knew better Camble and you helped put that into action so we could participate in it too. Kindness isn't pathetic. It's taken me a long time to see you were asking me to pause in my urgency and have patience. That left me settled in those uneasy feelings for a long time. It was just enough time to let the difficult things I felt move on. Then I recognized what remained. You needed me to love my enemy. Not to make excuses for those who wanted to be his hero, or sympathize with his damage instead of tending to you, or praying for him to stop choking you but to pray, instead, for his heart to be whole again, to be restored so he could recognize and respect the kindness that is all around him. To be loved. To feel love. To know it. Whether or not he chooses to value you, you don't need permission to be your authentic self. You reminded me of the courage it takes to say "No thank you. I won't harm you back. " and mean it. Regardless of the punishment and contempt.
Your truth and kindness are your super powers. You've shown me that you believe everyone has that same energy inside of them. Yesterday was Martin Luther King Jr. day and when I hear his pleas I see he had the same belief. That we could all return to that place of goodness inside of us. That place that lets us cry with the wounded. Weep for the damage we do to one another and know what that compromise costs.
Kindness isn't a construct. It's a compass. There is purpose in pain but life can't only be purposeful because of the pain. I appreciate the metaphorical value of these struggles and one never seems to know the meaning of things until they're on the other side of them, but I'm continually hoping we are through with this, having moved through and over or above or beyond. This can't be our new normal. I don't accept that. I do, however, appreciate the depth it has given our lives, while you have managed to not make a spectacle of your pain and you keep showing up. Showing up for life. Smiling. Simply. Being tender. As if it was the most obvious and natural thing to do. That gets lost on me for a minute, considering, and then I remember, it is the most sincere, natural thing about us all, and it is actually THAT uncomplicated.
You're special to us, Buddy, but we know you're an average, ordinary kid. Doing the most natural thing, being kind and humble. Keep at it Sweetheart. Keep at it. Please. And keep hoping others are working at it too, as best they can.
I love you, Camble. And I know that you feel loved. Thank you for being you. We're so thankful for you.
Mama
