Mentoring

       This word had relevance to me before I knew the word existed. As a child, my life could be described as desperate, desolate, lonely, abusive, and silent. I did not share anything, was never non-compliant, or disruptive. As some point, perhaps I’ll have the courage to share here what only one other person besides me knows. I’m sure there were others who knew or suspected what was going on in my life, but no one had the inclination to do anything to change it.



       I was blessed to have a neighbor who reached out to me to bolster my reserve. She made herself available to me whenever I just needed a place to sit and ‘be’ for awhile. Her ability to affect a change was limited by her proximity, but she was there. She saw me. Sometimes that’s all a child needs. To be seen, recognized, and greeted – something so simple and free, gives a person a sense of being valued. I will always be grateful for this early gift in my life.


       My mentor welcomed me into her home and into her life. From her, I learned some fundamental cooking skills, how to knit, and crochet; I learned candle-making and all that entails. We spent hours sitting in the sun relaxing and talking, but we also gardened. She never asked me to do any of these things, but provided me a role model and willing instruction IF I asked a ‘how to’ question. I often found myself being a sous chef, garden assistant, or wrapped in the yarn of a craft project. Around eight years of age, she gave me my first paying job. I loved putting her candle room in order. She knew I had nothing, so she insisted she pay me. It was a small sum, but it created in me a sense of empowerment. If I worked hard, I could earn enough to care for myself, which is how I continue to be today. We sang together and she encouraged my talent by signing us up for community choral groups. I was always the youngest, but found encouragement from this new circle of song birds.


       Gratitude is not a strong enough word to express how important I feel about her contribution to my faith in God. She never said I ‘had to’ do anything. Her enthusiasm and love for things encouraged me to want to participate. She would say, “I’m going to Sunday school IF you want to come along.” She always allowed the decision to be mine. My life had no choice, no options, no open invitations, so when she gave over that power to me, it helped me grow and have a sense of importance. I went to church and Sunday school with her, participated in singing opportunities, went through two years of confirmation classes, and did it all without ever being forced or cajoled. Faith was an opportunity for me to be loved on a much deeper level and I ran with it.


       Through high school, I pulled back from my constant friend to test the waters of independence. I was comfortable venturing out because I knew my safe harbor was there for me if I needed to return to it. I would show up on her door step unexpectedly with a million things to share and I was always greeted with a welcoming smile, loving arms , and a kiss on the cheek. She was my home base; with an open heart, willing ears, a comforting shoulder, and a place where advice was offered only when asked for.


       As I left for college, I was amazingly ready for my escape, one I’d dreamt about since I was a child. I still had gaping holes of need exacerbated by my father’s death, but my faith was a part of who I’d become. I railed against it when my father died unexpectedly, turned away from it when making life changing decisions, and felt guilt and remorse. As much as I rebelled against it, it was firmly a part of me…of that I was blessed.


       After working away from home for a few years, I returned to teach in the district where I grew up. It was strange that I was returning to teach- never a career I ventured a thought about. Teaching the emotionally disturbed, as they were referred to then, in retrospect makes perfect sense to me. These are the kids I most wanted to help. Those abused, lost, forgotten, neglected, angry kids whose needs were greater than they had possibilities of getting met in their current living arrangement. Like me they needed to be seen and valued, recognized as worthy, and shown the world of possibilities that existed for them. I was poised and ready for that job. It was my turn to be the mentor to these kids who felt no one cared. The lessons of my youth were more valuable than anything I learned in all my vast educational experience. Looking a kid square in the eye so that they know you know and understand, smiling, referring to them by name, inviting them into your world, and just being available when they are ready are the lessons of love I learned in my childhood. They are free; easily given, and have been the greatest blessing to me.


       I’ve gone on to encounter new mentors, angels, who have left loving wing marks on my soul. From each, I’ve learned lessons that are surely better shared then kept inside. I live in gratitude for these gifts from God. It will be my mission to pay it forward with conscious awareness and love to those I encounter. Perhaps someday, someone will remember me as their mentor, too.






For Barbara, and my other angels…


Debbie 3-11-10