How to Talk to Kids About our World

How do we talk to our kids about the raging mess that is our current world? A place where young girls are blown up at a concert, rights for women, the poor and immigrants are being stripped away by governments and elected politicians lie routinely about every damn thing under the sun. It’s dark out there, but glossing over it with our kids is not the answer.

Depending on the age of your children, these suggestions may have to be adapted, but the principles remain the same whether you have a preschooler, a tween or an almost-adult about to leave home.

How do we talk to our kids about the world? Here are my best ideas:

Honesty.

Evading, hiding and deflecting are strategies that don’t work. If you are anxious about the news (and if you feel chill and at ease about the world in 2017, you likely aren’t paying close enough attention), your children are, too. If you don’t talk about current events honestly with your kids, they will hear something at school or on the playground or at your in-laws’ barbecue and without some careful context provided by you, your kids are likely to feel way more upset by what they hear because it will carry the added power of secrecy with it.

It’s normal to worry about scaring them unnecessarily or getting your explanation wrong. You may do both but go ahead and talk to them anyway. Build that trust. Plant the seeds for a compassionate response. Know that scary situations are best borne together with the ones you love.

Questions.

Encourage questions. Ask things like, “Why do you suppose she believes that? What do you think will happen as a result of this world event? How do you feel when we talk about this?”

Questions are a beautiful entity. They help children understand that grownups may not have all of the answers, but they are willing to ask hard questions and pool a sense of knowledge for the greater good. Questions also provide a safe route to the hidden nooks and crannies in our hearts. They help us feel less isolated and alone.

Optimism.

This one is tough right now, but it’s important not to leave the discussion with a bleak sense that all hope is lost. Our kids are looking to us to be their lighthouse. We cannot allow them to dash against the rocks in the dark. It’s our job to be open and candid, but also to dig deep and put an optimistic spin on even the saddest, most desperate news story.

Try something alone these lines: “I know this is scary. I feel sad and worried, too. But I know that I am strong and capable and so are you. We will always stick together and show as much love and kindness and compassion to ourselves and to others as possible, and we will be okay.”

I truly wish we had a better state of current affairs so these conversations would be easier. But every one of us must play the cards we are dealt and model this courage to our children. It’s no good denying, hiding, distracting, blaming. Like the greatest heroes in history who have inspired us, it’s time to bravely meet circumstances as they are, with our kids beside us, and change the world by changing ourselves.

Life is Messy

Life is Messy

I’m lost. And afraid. I’m not clear on anything at the moment, which means I’m in the shittiest phase of the growth cycle. I know I won’t be stuck here forever (even though it feels like it) and big changes are likely in the pipeline that will be good for me. But none of this knowledge helps to heal the current pain I’m feeling.

It’s time to get honest with myself and to others about how confusing, alienating and exhausting life can get. It’s messy with a capital damn M. My soul is like a wounded bear, growling from my den, daring anyone to come at me with yet another “this too shall pass”. I know that already. We all do.

I’m longing for more shared honesty. For more “me too” and less stoic pretence. I want no more advice, so I must continue to work at not giving any out either. What helps the most when my soul has been rubbed raw with lemon juice is a piece of hope from someone else who has also experienced genuine pain, loss and grief.

life is messyThe world is a scary place. Sometimes it’s simply all too much for me. My kids are in pain and I must do my best to help them through, to offer encouragement and strength even when I am thoroughly beaten and defeated myself. I’m trying to be gentle and kind to my weary mind and heart, offering love in place of judgement, but life offers none of us a chance to get away from our problems. We only get temporary reprieves at best. The sadness will still be there, lying in wait, when we are done with our shopping, eating, Facebook surfing, exercising or Netflix binging.

Every one of us is in constant flux, evolving and changing, trying our best and still occasionally falling flat on our faces. This journey of becoming our true selves can be so rough. We get lost, night falls, our compass breaks and we have no clue where we are in our own inner landscape.

I pretended for years that I was fine when I was actually dying inside. I know that way doesn’t work, but trying to be vulnerable in a world committed to posing as rich, thin, happy, helpful and eternally young is deeply challenging too. No one said it would be easy, and at the end of the day I must choose what is right for me no matter what anyone else is doing. But stepping out as your real self, keeping a soft and open heart, trying to be honest when you are struggling – these things go against the grain, and the sense of isolation can be enormous.

The only way I know how to survive is to keep going. To breathe in and out. To hug my husband and my kids. To watch a great movie and read an inspiring book. To reach out to someone I respect and love to say, “I’m hurting. How are you?” To try again, when I prefer to hole up inside myself and never try again. To realize that the mess of life serves a growth purpose.

Nothing worthwhile is achieved without significant pain. Doubt is a huge part of this process. It’s normal. I’m not the only one to feel this way. Something is happening. New life is around the corner. I have no choice but to wait for it. All I really have to do now is the best that I can in this rough patch.

The Ashes of Peace

The Ashes of Peace

I’d love for this world to make sense. For people to take responsibility when they mess up. To own it by naming it out loud and saying, “I’m sorry. I’ll try to do better in the future.”

So many things are out of our direct control. We can’t make anyone do anything. Not one of us can stop people’s rage and fear on the Internet right now over the refugee crisis. I long for kindness and weep at the vitriol I read and see. It’s agonizing to live in such a knee-jerk world; so hostile, fearful and rejecting.

I know that real change only comes from the inside. You can’t legislate it, mandate it or manipulate your way to it. Transformation blooms in the heart, watered by pain and loss. It’s always an inside job. Looking to the Internet for solace and compassion is a dead-end game. We must go inside for these valuable commodities, growing them like a garden, and drawing those we know, trust and love near to share them.

The ashes of peaceWriting these things is calming for me. It’s isolating to be sensitive at this time and place, with the world such a cruel mess. We are all capable of wounding each other. I must take responsibility for the awful things I say and do, extending mercy to myself as much as to others.

I crave certainty, honesty and beauty. Those qualities are in short supply right now, but when they are scarce we must breathe them to life in ourselves. We can make space for love, forgiveness and generosity, even if others are calling publicly for the opposite.

It’s time to slow down. To inhale and exhale. To stare out the window and pet the cat. To indulge in a chocolate bar. To feel reassured that tomorrow the sun will rise and we will all get another chance to do a little bit better.

It won’t be dark forever. We can learn to let go of what is not ours to own. We can blow on the ashes of peace in our soul and try to ignite them back into flame. We can do only what we can do to lighten up the darkness and bring hope to those who feel hopeless.