What Children Teach Us About Living a Creative Life and Impacting the World Without Fear

by Holly Mthethwa

“I’m gonna hop, hop, hop,” my two-year-old daughter shouts as she hops and runs down the sidewalk, a made-up song spilling out with her giggles.

“Mommy! I’m gonna fly like a plane,” she shouts again as she extends her arms above her sides and starts to run.

I watch her.

It doesn’t cross her mind that anyone, but me, is watching.

She’s not even aware that anyone else might be paying attention or that we’re “in public.”


She’s not trying to impress anyone….

Or wondering what someone might think.

She is simply testing her abilities and finding creative ways to express herself and have fun.

Ari

I long to protect that—that innocent and unrestrained self-expression and playfulness.

And, I wonder when I lost it. When we lost it.

I wonder when we stopped testing our abilities, because we started to believe failure was a bad thing or when our shouts turned to a whisper and then to silence, because someone told us we were too loud or talked too much or didn’t have anything valuable to say.

Or when we started to compare our made-up songs or made-up poems with someone else’s and thought we better stop “making up,” because we weren’t any good at it anyway.

Sometimes, it takes a child to remind us what it looks like to express ourselves and create without fear.

There are times when we call our children reckless; we say they have no sense of danger or that they’re too courageous.

I wonder what age those words start sticking and when our caution starts to plant seeds of fear and reluctance in our children.

Of course, we have to teach our children boundaries and, of course, we have to teach them about danger.

But, why do our boundary lines move closer and closer inward until we will not move or speak or create or play for fear that we’ll cross the line?

The very line we ourselves created.

Why have we allowed fear to keep us silent?

Or keep us so heavily guarded that the words we speak or the things we create have little impact, because they’re not striking deep places, simply because we’re afraid to pull from deeper within ourselves?

As much as I long to protect the creativity, imagination, and uninhibited expression within my daughter, I long—even more—to cultivate it.

I long to find ways to keep her imagination and creativity alive, to fan the flame, and to keep it growing….

to call out all that’s inside of her to come forth and encounter the world…to make it brighter, to make it better.

And, when I create space for her to sing, dance, paint, or run without me drawing imaginary boundary lines around her with my “be careful,” or my “not so loud,” I see the most of her, I see the best of her…..I see what she’s made of.

And, when I create space for her to express herself without worry of a mess or a fall, she challenges herself and she surprises me, because “I didn’t know she could do that—I thought she was too young.”

Then, I wonder if I would create space, if there are places in my life where I’d surprise myself, because “I didn’t know I could do that.”

My daughter reminds me what it looks to create without fear.

Her very act of creating without fear is itself a creation, because it sparks in me the desire to create.

And, I start to think that if we’d all be a little braver, a little less restrained, and we’d extend those boundary lines out a little more…we’d see an outpouring of gifts, talents, ideas, and works-of-art that would begin to drown out the destruction in our world.

Because, if we’re not making something new or finding ways to breathe new life into what’s already been created, we’re either staying stagnant or we’re destroying the things that we’ve made.

****

Although we’ve never met in person, Holly and I connected through Her View From Home and hit it off right away. It took a few phone conversations before I realized that she is a Cozad, Nebraska native and her dad worked with my husband’a grandparents there. I’m so pleased to share her with you today. Please go to her website and order her book!

-Andrea

HollyHolly Mthethwa is passionate about sharing God’s word in everyday life. She’s been a missionary advisor in Peru and India and is the author of the Christian memoir “Hot Chocolate in June: A True Story of Loss, Love, and Restoration.” She resides just outside of Washington, D.C. where she lives an adventure with her husband and daughter. Holly writes regularly about faith, family, and moments that have hooked her heart at www.ruggedandredeemed.com.

To read more from Holly, check out her book “Hot Chocolate in June” on Amazon or visit her blog at ruggedandredeemed.com.

Who Needs You To Check Under Their Bed For Monsters?

It was time for bed and my daughter was distraught, “It could happen anywhere!” She overheard the news about Paris that morning and then managed to avoid thinking about it. But when the hubbub of the day calmed at bedtime, she had nowhere to run. Fear chased her down and mocked her. My sweet 8-year-old begged me for a distraction, “What can I do so I don’t have to think about it? I’m too young to know about stuff like this!”

Aren’t we all? I don’t know anyone old enough to be comfortable with the possibility that a gunman could come into a restaurant and take us out while we’re enjoying a glass of wine. And who is mature enough to handle the picture of a real-live human being strapping explosives on their chest and pushing a button that scatters pieces of their insides throughout a crowd of unsuspecting people?

I’m not.

Photo by Daniele Moomey

Photo by Daniele Moomey

I don’t blame my daughter for wanting a distraction.
I totally understand why she feels afraid. In the moment of my daughter’s intense fear, I felt confronted with my own. I know what it’s like to be taunted by the terrifying possibilities of what might happen. I experience it more often than I’d like to admit and all too often I get the feeling that something is chasing me down. In times like those I need a distraction to help bring me back into balance.

But there is an art to the use of distraction.

Distractions are helpful in moments of distress. Sometimes I need to shift my focus so I can stay calm and think clearly. In those moments I need a distraction to help diminish the fear I feel. But when I continue to use them to avoid thinking about painful things altogether, distractions increase my fear.

Because monsters are more frightening when they are hiding under the bed.

So this night when fear was mocking my daughter, I knew what she needed. She needed me to look under the bed – to give her the opportunity to bring her deep doubts, questions and fears into the light so she could see that they aren’t the big monsters she imagined them to be.

“Ask any question you want, Amelia.” The next hour was a beautiful outpouring of real, deep and intense questions. I hardly answered any of them. She didn’t really need answers, nor could she probably have handled it all. She just needed to know that it’s OK to ask the questions.

I savored every moment. When all was said and done I asked, “How did it feel to ask so many tough questions, Amelia?”

“It felt kind of good – you know – not to hold them back.”

Doesn’t it, though?

Holding back or distracting ourselves from the fear of pain isn’t necessarily a bad thing in the moment, until holding-back becomes locking-in. Avoiding. Refusing to be honest with ourselves, God and others. Fear feeds on secrecy and avoidance. So perhaps one of the most merciful things we can do for one another is to invite fear into the light.

Who needs you to check under their bed for monsters?

 

Find a few Words To Say when you’re left speechless. Grab your free mini-eBook today and be the first to know when my book is released.   Click Here

Title –

UNFROZEN: Stop Holding Back and Release The Real You.  
The unexpected path to connected relationships and extraordinary impact.
Fear feeds

When it’s not the end of the world, after all.

Sometimes it’s not the end of the world, after all.

Perhaps you remember Belle from the Birthday Cake post (here)? She is our bull-in-a-china-closet, adorable and adored Pyredoodle.

Belle-Gate

One night a few days ago she pushed her way under our back yard fence and started running around the neighborhood. It’s happened repeatedly, despite our best blockades. We have learned that chasing her is counter-productive. She sees us or hears us call, gives us a taunting glance then takes off for a new hiding spot. So this night we left the front door open and waited, busying ourselves with work we could do near the entryway.

It wasn’t 5 minutes after she almost came inside and took off again when we heard her get hit by a car.

BAM!  YELP!

Yelp, yelp, yelp!!!!!!

Aaron and I ran outside to see her take off behind our neighbor’s house and into the dark river-wood.

The poor driver never saw her coming. He felt horrible. I wish we could get ahold of him and let him know the rest of the story.

It was clear that we wouldn’t find her in the night woods so we headed home and lay wet-wide-eyed in bed. Aaron was sure she ran off to die. He thought through all of the should-have’s then fell asleep. Through a steady stream of sobs and tears, I thought through all of the could-be’s and eventually had a restless nap before morning.

What if a fox finds her?
The kids will be devastated when I tell them tomorrow morning.
I haven’t introduced her to my niece who is longing to meet her.
What if it were one of our kids?
What if it were a friend’s child?
Would I ever recover? I’m sure I would not…

The big black hole of catastrophising sucked me in and swirled me around. I subconsciously gave into it as a sort of punishment for letting something bad happen to my family. I needed to feel bad.

I told the kids what happened when they woke up. One child ran off in great sobs, the other sat on my lap with quiet tears, hoping she would come home. But after the initial moments of sadness, they became energized with hope that Belle would return home if they just

…put out a trail of bread
…call her name
…take the flashlights into the backyard and look outside the gate.

They spent about an hour coming up with ways to lure her home.

I kept crying when they weren’t looking.

Poor, naïve children. They don’t realize how horrid this situation could be.

They stuffed a bag with “dog snacks” for me to carry with me on my journey into the woods to search for Belle. I took them to school, then headed out on what I was sure would be a long, sad journey. FullSizeRenderI got as far as the back gate when Belle barked at me from the other side of the fence – at her escape spot. I’m convinced she would have run away again if I didn’t have the kids’ snack pack. Miraculously, she suffered only a broken leg and a couple of flesh wounds. She asked me to carry her (yes, she asked) so I heaved her up and forward a few feet at a time until we made it to the house and eventually to her sweet veterinarian, my friend Amanda.

You can imagine our relief.

Well, their relief. For the next few days I remained on edge. Fragile. Anxious. The black hole spit me out, but I was still dizzy.

Because I forgot.

I forgot that I don’t have to punish myself. I forgot that many things can’t be explained or prevented. I forgot that sometimes little naïve children know the way of Love better than their wise and learned mother.

And sometimes it’s not the end of the world, after all.

End of the world Belle