Opinions expressed in this piece are solely those of the author.
It was his senior year. Graduation was approaching with its whirlwind of activities, and that son of mine had not declared a major. In truth, he showed almost no interest in college whatsoever. Meanwhile, his peers were announcing post-grad plans, working hard for scholarships and charting out their respective courses. Then one day, it hit me. That unsettling thing I was feeling? It was peer pressure.
It hadn’t occurred to me that as a parent, I was taking on pressure to have a kid like everyone else’s. When the realization dawned at last, I felt exactly what I should have felt (some anger), and I kicked it to the curb.
All his life, our second born has marched to the beat of his own drum. Unlike his older brother who arrived smackdab on his due date, smiling at the world, he insisted on showing up to the party a solid three weeks early with a scowl and a wail. No compliant child, he. His will was strong and stubborn, and he put us through our paces.
“He’s gonna be a mover and a shaker,” I would tell my husband. “What will move and shake we don’t know, but something will.”
When school came, we began to hear from his teachers. “His snowman looks different from the rest of the class. He’s having a hard time paying attention.”
Sure enough. A battery of tests showed a diagnosis of ADHD, prompting accommodations to help him succeed. Tests also showed, to our immense gratification, that his higher-order thinking skills were literally at the top of the charts. He was very smart; his processing and learning skills were simply different from the rest.
What no tests could ever show, though, was the rest of the picture. This wiggly, squirmy, hands-on, creative son of ours possessed a rapier-sharp wit. Thanks to him, the vinegar ice cube was invented (think, ice tray filled with vinegar), and it landed in my Diet Coke one day.
His heart for other people was fierce and passionate. He had an especial fondness for his mother, and every time he left the house, he would kiss me on both cheeks. Every time.
It was in school that we began to see the benefit of that iron will. Peer pressure did not affect him. He knew what he believed, and he just lived his life. For this, I was profoundly grateful.
When a bully began to plague him in junior high, it was his compassion that kept him from lashing out. But that confident strength? One day, he finally had enough, and he opened his mouth and spoke the truth firmly and decisively. Of all things, that bully became a friend. Respect had done its work, and our son learned an important life lesson that day.
Today, I am so grateful for the man he has become. Instead of going to college, he traveled the world. After months of misery, working in a factory on a quilting machine in a windowless room, a new door opened up. For 11 months, he traveled to 11 different countries with a group of his peers, doing mission work. He returned to our shores, filled with gratitude for this country and its golden opportunities and a heart full of love for the peoples of the world.
He continues to be a man of integrity and character, filled with love for others and for God. He is a constant source of entertainment to all in his orbit, and his footprint is global. He still marches to the beat of his own drum. He is such a gift.
I write this today to encourage all who are raising square pegs in a round-hole world. Most likely, the things that make your kids different are the things that will become their greatest strengths. Instead of taking on the pressure to whittle them into something “normal (and what is that, anyway),” rejoice in their uniqueness and encourage them to be who they are, just as they are.
I write this, too, to encourage those who are the square pegs in a world that seems to be filled with round holes. If you look long and hard, I believe with all my heart that you will find the place that’s uniquely crafted for you…and no one else can fit there like you can.
You say you’re socially awkward? Someone nearby can be heartened by your smile. You think you cannot speak intelligently or smoothly, and so you should not speak at all? A few sincere words are all that it takes to lighten someone else’s load.
We are made in the image of God, you and I, and his loving hand has designed us. Let’s not deprive the world of our gifts just because we’re different. As I would tell my own sons, when we feel like misfits in the circles that we’re in, we have the precious opportunity to start new ones. We can open our circles and make room for other “square pegs.”
Come on in, friend. You can be part of my circle.
All for love,
America’s small, caffeinated mom