Where there is an injustice, you will be sure to find me. Marching alongside in protest. Fighting for the underdog. Passionately defending rights. No administration is immune, no cause too minor. From Washington D.C. to the streets of Dayton, OH. Shouting from the rooftops and letting my voice be heard.
One day, I was purposely calling the White House in front of my 11-year-old son. After spouting off a lengthy message, I turned to him and talked at him; explaining my concerns with fervor, why I felt the need to call, and even cited a quote by theologian, Martin Niemoller. Excitedly, I turned and asked, “Do you want to call, I’ll help you?” He flatly replied, “No.”
It knocked the wind out of me. How could he not feel the same drive to make this difference? Is he going to grow into a person who doesn’t care? Will he fight for what he believes? This wasn’t aligning with my image of him someday canvassing the streets alongside me in protest. I was crushed.
As my head spun, it landed on a solid truth.
His passion does not have to be the same as mine.
He is a boy who makes a difference with the kid needing friends. Part of his allowance goes toward “helping” money. Love in his heart is freely given without judgment. His impact on the world is accomplished differently and is perfect for him.
Maybe he will want to protest, maybe not. Perhaps he will decide to play a sport I never played, learn an instrument I find strange, or like a subject I despised. And this is the beauty. He is free to be who he is meant to be. As I work toward letting go of the expectation of who he is supposed to be in my vision, he has permission to live his truth, even if it is opposite of mine.
For now, I will march alone while my son discovers his own, unique path. One day we may align. Or not. And that’s okay.
