When my children Laura and Tim were around seven and four respectively, I took them to a local production based on the fable “Town Mouse, Country Mouse.” You may recall the story is of a town mouse that visits his country mouse friend and turns down his nose at what the country mouse has to offer as a meal. So the country mouse goes home with the town mouse, and indeed the food is much better there…but it comes with a price. In this play, the family’s pet cat was the arch villain who stalked the mice at every turn.
To represent the huge (from a mouse’s perspective) feline, the theater troupe had made a large cat’s paw from cardboard, painted and complete with what appeared to be sharp, dangerous claws. When Kitty was supposed to be stalking the mice, the claw would be swiped from the edge of the curtain, accompanied by a loud and menacing, “Meowrrrr!”
Tim was terrified of that paw! Each time it appeared, he would cover his eyes and edge closer to me. After the play ended, I took my children backstage and explained the problem to the actors. They graciously brought out the paw, and Tim (holding tightly to my hand) looked it over carefully, front and back. The director demonstrated how they had held it high in the air from behind the curtain, and then swiped it down when Kitty’s on-stage presence was required. “It’s just painted cardboard,” I explained, and wrapped my knuckles against it. Tim did the same and smiled up at me. “It’s OK, Mommy.”
I remind myself of that experience when I take on something new about which I’m a little nervous or unsure. When the “buts” and the “what ifs” try to swipe their way from stage left into my brain to create doubt about my ability to accomplish something, I stop and think about it. I examine it as a whole, front and back, and then “touch” it by mind-mapping with pen and paper the entire project or issue. When it’s thus laid out in front of me, it’s not so scary. I can identify where I perhaps need to do more research or study on my own, or where I need to seek outside expert help.
My fears, once identified, examined, and touched, turn into action items. It’s as if I can still hear that little voice saying, “It’s OK, Mommy.”
To my readers: Please share with us an accomplishment where you were originally fearful or unsure but ultimately successful.
Well, this is an easy one for me since I didn’t learn how to drive until I was 45 years of age. Actually, my husband likes to tell people that I had been “driving” for 25 years (I just didn’t have my license). When I was a teenager I did go for my eye examination and failed the eye test. That seemed to be quite a setback, along with the fact that nobody encouraged me to learn how to drive. The years went by and I depended on other people for transportation. Finally, before the birth of my first grandchild, I decided that I was going to learn to drive a car. My husband and daughter, Sandy, were my instructors. I’m not sure who was more afraid when I first got behind the wheel. We practiced in the parking lot of the high school before I actually did any driving on the highway. I was very timid at first, always worrying about the car behind me. But as the weeks went by, I was anxious to continue my driving lessons. When I was ready to take my driver’s test a few months later (my husband and daughter both giving me a “thumb’s up” as I pulled away for my test), I was confident that I was ready, and I passed with no problems. But the best part of overcoming my fear to drive was going to the hospital a few months later and driving my daughter and my first grandchild, Erica, home. That was 26 years ago, and I still love to drive.
When my dad gave me my first driving lesson in the high school parking lot, after the first five minutes he told me to pull over. I did and he got out, saying, “You can practice on your own.” So he stood and smoked while I did my thing. Patience was not one of his better character strengths!