Memory is a strange thing. The mind retains or releases memories in ways I don't think we can fully understand. Though we may command our minds to remember something - a name, a face, a number, a sequence of words, or an image we hope to preserve beyond its dissolution, most memories are unintentional - moments recorded for no reason other than that they happened. A great tragedy of the human mind must be the countless beautiful moments that slip away, along with many of those things we so diligently set out to remember, never again to be recalled to mind. It seems so unfair that we should forget so many precious things, yet be left with seemingly random memories that remain with us throughout life, coming to mind at random times and for no apparent reason. But Memory offers an olive branch in the shape of another set of memories that grow in significance and meaning with the passage of time. They are like little lights along one's path, visible only in retrospect as having lit the path to the present. We cannot see them as we travel forward, but looking back... Well, looking back the crazy path is undeniably sensible.
Three such memories have been flitting about in my mind this week, in that funny way Memory has of bringing seemingly random memories to the forefront of one's mind. Two of these memories are dear to me in that they involve words spoken lovingly to me in times of distress and confusion... words that have come true in beautiful ways. You really don't need to know all the details of those memories. The circumstances under which my best friend tearfully wished a nice boy would come along and ask me to marry him will remain a mystery to those who do not know me well, as will the decisions which led to the mother of two of my other friends gently sharing with me how God had given her certain gifts and abilities, not to be used as the world might expect, but for the education of her own children at home. The important points are that within eight months, I was standing at the altar with the boy who made me laugh when my world had fallen apart... the boy who has been making me laugh for eleven years and would probably give me the infamous "Geoff look" if he heard me calling him a boy, and that in the first four years of teaching my oldest two children at home, I have been comforted beyond measure by the memory of this woman's words and the realization that God knew all along what He was doing when I was torn up with uncertainty, and later, when I wondered why I hadn't been able to bring myself to do what everyone else was doing. It was all part of the plan to bring me to where I am today.
The third memory I've been enjoying this week is far less personal in nature. It was eleventh grade English, the class that brought me the fabulous dictionary mentioned in a previous post. We had taken a quiz to determine right- or left-brainedness, then lined up along the back wall extremely right-brained to extremely left-brained. There I stood, smack in the middle. Depending upon how you look at it, the test indicated I either had a perfectly balanced brain or no brain at all... Seriously, though, the memory has lingered and till recently I wasn't sure why. From time to time, I would think of that day, balancing between left and right brain dominance, wondering which way the scale would tip or if it would tip at all. It might explain why I could never decide which way to go, whether to be academic or artistic, whether to write a novel or become a photographer, why I want to be organized but can't follow a recipe. I began to suspect that each side of my brain has enough strength to persuade me that I want to follow its call, but the opposing side pulls in the opposite direction, leaving me in the middle, either a beautiful blend of or a raging battle between arts and smarts. To be honest, it has been rather frustrating, wanting to plunge to either side but being unable to do so because of the other side's attraction.
But a neat thing happened last week. This memory popped up in the midst of contemplating my oldest two children's gifts, abilities, interests, and overall personalities. In my humble and unbiased opinion, both my boys are bright and creative mid-sized men, but one clearly stands on one end of the left-brain/right-brain spectrum, while the other hangs out quite comfortably at the other end. I do not mean to suggest that one is all brains and no creativity, nor that one is all creativity and no brains. They pass between the worlds of arts and smarts with ease, but each has his own cozy corner of one particular world, if that makes sense. Whatever they may do during the day, at the end of the day it is not uncommon for one to read while the other draws. One seeks comfort in a book, the other in crayons and colored pencils. When I think of standing in the middle in this context, my position seems divinely inspired as I am able to appreciate and understand these magical boys in ways I might otherwise not be able to do. I understand one child's need to create, invent, and and manipulate various materials -his need to get his hands dirty in the creation of something distinctly his - and the other's drive to learn, understand and connect information - his need to keep his mind well fed and his thoughts well organized. Maybe I would be just as good a mother if I didn't "get" these things in each of them, but I like to think that having been pulled in both directions for as long as I can remember is an asset in parenting these very differently driven boys.
I don't know how it will all play out in the end... which direction I'll lean when our home-schooling days end and I stand once again in the position of needing to decide what path to follow. For now, though, it is a great comfort to hold the memory of that day in high school as a credential and prod, assuring me on my doubting days that I am indeed well equipped to teach my boys and reminding me to neglect neither end of the spectrum for my children's benefit and my own.
I know there is debate over how much influence brain-dominance actually has. I don't care about the science of it, as far as this discussion goes. Whatever anyone says, some individuals are at home with the arts and some with the smarts. Others are in the middle, strangers at home in both worlds. I thank memory and my boys for teaching me to value my position and challenging me to use it to encourage each of them in their natural world while exposing them to the beautiful lands beyond their stronger inclinations.
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