childhood

Recently I watched Disney’s The Kid again. This is a movie recommended by a counselor friend of mine, and I have heard of several other counselors who assign people to watch it because of its insights into why we can become the adults we are. Bruce Willis plays a not very nice man who meets up with his 8-year-old self, and the two have some important information to give each other.

I have the privilege of helping to moderate an online forum for women who struggle with same-sex attraction. One of the things that all the people in this ministry share is a history of hurtful relationships with their families, especially their same-sex parent. (With some of them, the major wound came from not connecting with their same-sex peers as they were growing up, but all of them have some level of difficulty with their parents.)

When I was a kid, safety looked like the approval in my mom’s eye as she looked over my homework. It tasted like the crust-less peanut butter and grape jelly sandwiches lovingly prepared by my grandma’s hands. Calm and comfort sounded like Daddy’s chatter-whistles as he called squirrels over for us to feed in the park. Safety felt like the heft and softness of my down comforter, right after my parents tucked me in, kissed my on the forehead, and turned my nightlight on.