"Chloe doesn't really even like me" you explain when I ask who you play with at recess. I ask these things because I like to picture you at school. I like to envision who you run with, what you're chasing, if you're a good guy or a bad guy, that kind of thing. We have these kinds of talks driving home from school, mostly when you're sister's asleep back there and we don't have much else to do.
And since this seems out of sorts, I ask, "How do you know?"
"She never laughs at my jokes." you respond, and I have to catch myself, because as much as I love you, you're still working out "punch lines" right now, so I can totally see how this might affect your audience's reaction.
And at first I think I'll just redirect and talk about something else like whether or not you liked the lunch I packed today but when I look in the rearview mirror, something in your eyes makes me hesitate. You're not crying, Sam, but your eyes - they're so sad. And I realize you're experiencing something from which I cannot shield you. You're feeling rejected.
Sam, man, rejection is the worst. To know that someone else in the world sees you and knows you and still doesn't like you is the worst feeling in the world. So, as your mom, I want to ridicule this Chloe-monster. I want to call her a sassy little brat who wouldn't know funny if it pulled her frizzy pig tail. But I don't, because Chloe really is a cool girl at school and she doesn't have frizzy pig tails. She's actually really smart and funny, and so I can see why you'd want her to like you.
"Sam," I respond after a big, deep, mom breath, "What is the very best thing about being you?"
And you don't reply straight away because this is a weird question. You stare down at your hands folded in your lap and you shrug.
"I mean, when are you most happy about being Sam Halpin?" And I over articulate your name like you're a news reporter or a famous musician. And you've still got your head down but I can tell you smirk a bit.
Then your head shoots up and your nose scrunches as you smile and say, "I really am pretty funny."
And I laugh too loudly as you make goofy faces at me in the mirror and then you remind me to "shh!" because Anna is still snoozing away. And we make it through the traffic talking about other things, like Harry Potter and how you wish you had a wicked scar like him.
I'm so glad you still think you're funny, love. Because rejection can make you feel things about yourself that you know, deep down, are untrue. It can make you feel unlovable, unworthy, inadequate.
I will guarantee you rejection in your future - it is inevitable and unavoidable. The beautiful thing about choosing to love others is there are so many lovely people with whom you will choose to do life. And the frightening thing about this is they've got to make the same choice - to choose to do life with you. I'm beginning to realize the greater mystery isn't that we're rejected by one other. Rather, it seems an unlikely mystery to me that it actually happens: people commit to one another. We do it, everyday, and so everyday we're part of a tiny miracle.
When two people decide to get married, when two friends share a commitment of truth and closeness, when a parent chooses to raise a child, all these interactions, all these choices, they are the miracles in our lives.
Right now, you can't imagine that anyone wouldn't choose you. Because you're human, because you have a really great sense of self, and because you can't imagine someone not enjoying that much awesome.
And having someone reject you seems like a stab to the heart - especially from the likes of a Chloe. The Chloe's of the world (in my day, they were Ashley's), they can make you feel like you're just not worthy of time and attention. And if you listen to them, if you choose to trade what you know for how you feel, you might agree with them. And you might forget that you are chosen, everyday, by so many people who adore you.
And we don't just think you're funny. We think you're hilarious. And kind. And hard working. And creative. And so many, many other things.
The rejection (and the Chloe's and the Ashley's) will always be out there. But love? It'll always be out there, too. So my dear, in moments of like these, when someone doesn't choose you, know this:
We see you.
We know you.
We love you.
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