Jellybeans and Good Intentions

“Your son is so well behaved!” a lady in the paper towel aisle expresses behind me.  I look around me, sure she is not talking to me.  My “well-behaved” son has been wheeling the cart around corners, cutting people off and is now perched on top of the Diet Pepsi 24 packs drinking a chocolate milk we have yet to pay for.    

“He is?” I ask pertinently.

“Yes, I was watching him in the candy aisle and he was so careful to pour every last one of the jellybeans in his hand back into the canister.  I was so impressed!  If that were my son, he would just stick all those jelly beans in his pocket and walk away.” 

I was skeptical to say the least.  The questions ran through my mind.  “How did he get the handful of jellybeans?  What other buttons did he push?  And where is he now?”  The tower of 24 packs was empty. 

But, I smiled and said, “Thank you.  He is something.”  And went to go find my six year old. 

Later that day, I was retelling the story in front of Tyler and my husband.  “This lady at the store was so impressed with Tyler!”  The story had sunk in.  I was proud.  Maybe he was putting all those jelly beans back, knowing that stealing was wrong. 

“Is this true Tyler?” my husband asked.  He nodded. “Yep, I tried one but I didn’t like it.  So, I poured them back.”  Aha…. 

Tyler nodded approvingly of his actions, not thinking that he may want to take credit for the first story. 

He was a hero in the first story – conscientious, thoughtful, and careful not to take something that wasn’t his.  He made that woman’s day!  She had hope in the world for all six year olds that there were a few well taught ones.  She was raving about him.  “He is so cute!” she said, “He was so meticulous about putting every one of them back.” 

“Well, at least he’s honest,” my husband remarked, trying to think of another good character trait we could hang our hats on as parents. 

So the action was not completely benevolent.  It actually was entirely self serving.  He did not mistakenly push the button and have to put them all back.  He purposefully pressed the button, tried one, and put them all back. 

Same end action.  Those manhandled, sticky jelly beans are back in their rightful place.  But, different intention.  

It’s the same way in how we live our lives.  It’s not always about the end result or what is in the eye of the beholder that matters.  It is the intention of the heart.

Sometimes, what is perceived is really different than what is real.    

As a six year old, Tyler didn’t know to cover up his real intentions like so many of us non-six year olds do.  His only way of living is to intend something and express his intentions, good or bad.

When we cover up our true intentions, we grow unhappy.  We grow out of ourselves and become a bystander to a life we are really not living. 

Not my son.  He is living his life to the fullest.  Jellybeans or no jellybeans, he stays true to what he thinks and believes. 

It’s just my job to make sure he pushes the right buttons. 

Life's Training Wheels

I’m reading a book called The Last Lecture.  It’s a professor’s last words of advice to his children, students and readers.  This successful and popular computer science professor died of pancreatic cancer shortly after he wrote this book.  His goal was to share what he has learned about the keys to an enriching life. 

In his book, he states that “being earnest is better than being hip.”  Those that are earnest in life will go far in their dreams. 

However, as we all start our work week and gear up for the day to day busyness in life, I have to wonder how earnest we are.  Is this what happens when we get older?  We lose our earnestness?

Another word for “earnest” is passion.  Being passionate about something is more important that fitting in. But, too many times, we try to fit ourselves in the mold than break the mold.  And we wonder where all the earnestness we used to have escaped to?  Being earnest knows no mold.

My son lives every moment of every day in deep earnest.  Whether it’s playing hockey and scoring twelve goals (yes, 12!) or picking out the best doughnuts at the bakery, he does everything in deep earnest.

Today, he found me in the backyard and declared confidently, “Mom, I think it’s time for my training wheels to come off.”  Not much comes out in question form with this kid.  “Mom, I need something to drink.  Mom, you forgot my lunch money.  Mom, you left the car door open.”  Thanks bud.

I asked the obvious question anyway, “How do you know you are ready to go without training wheels?”  No hesitation.  “I just know Mom.”  “Have you ridden a bike before without training wheels?” I persisted.  “No mom. But, I won’t know until they are off.”  Good point. 

He trots off to find the toolbox and before I know it, I’m ratcheting off lug nuts on my hands and knees.  “Good job Mom!” my son pats me on the back.    

My son has never had a lack of confidence or bravado.  In fact, it oozes out of him.  Off he went thinking that he was going to go flying down the street with no hands doing wheelies.  But, instead he swerves and falls down.  Thank goodness for helmets.  But, he gets up again in earnest, juts his chin out, and tries again.   

I had to laugh.  Come hell or high water, he was going to conquer that bike.  Another line in the book - “Brick walls are there to stop the people who don’t want it badly enough.”  While we may walk along the brick wall and wonder why it’s there, my son will take one look at it, set his mind to it, and start climbing. 

This is why we start losing the earnestness in life.  We let the brick walls stop us and misdirect us.  We walk along them instead of finding a way to break through them.  We let them become fixtures in our lives, obstructions we have to accept, rather than tearing them down. 

My son was no longer going to stand having training wheels on.  Even at six years old, he knew this was a brick wall that he was going to remove.  These decisions fuel his earnestness in life.  He fails and succeeds, but doesn’t pay attention to the failure.  In fact, the failure teaches him more than the successes. 

Another line in the book.  “Experience is what you get when you didn’t get what you wanted.  And experience is often the most valuable thing you have to offer.”  While we may try and fall down without training wheels, what we do with what we have learned is the most important thing.  This becomes our legacy and our own “last lecture.”  But, we have to do it in earnest or no one will want to listen.