Trust and a Burger King Hat
Raise your hand if you have trust issues. Yep, me too. Trusting new people can seem elusive if we’ve been hurt before. And being human = getting hurt.
Wouldn’t we all like to know the root of our trust issues? When was the moment when I realized that humanity might have more to offer me than just sunshine and rainbows? Well, one of my earliest memories is tainted with precisely this trust-eroding message.
I was 2 years old. My parents had a bunch of people over. Mom and Dad were enjoying our guests and distracted. I don’t remember who was in charge of keeping an eye on me, but at one point an older child pulled me into a closet, giggling. She found an old layered slip, and put it over my toddler-shoulders. She then crowned me with a Burger King hat. More giggles. Then, she led me out in front of the guests, with more giggling. “What is so funny?” My little two year old mind was compliant, but confused.
As I stepped out in front of everyone, the whole crowd erupted with laughter. This brought me even more confusion. “Why are they all laughing?” My face became more and more forlorn as the disorientation settled in. Somewhere in the fog, some things were becoming known to me. It was clear to my little heart that they were laughing at me. I knew that it didn’t feel good. At that moment, I asked the adults what was happening. Yet, even if I had the language skills for their explanation, I still would not have been able to comprehend it. I did understand that it was not a good feeling. I looked at all their faces and I knew one thing: in this life, people might make fun of me. There is a word for this feeling: embarrassment.
Why did this register so powerfully in my brain? Why didn’t I just filter what was happening as not a big deal, and move on with toddler life? Why did I interpret this as negative without enough life experience to fully understand it?
I am content with a great deal of ambiguity in my life, but these questions haunt me. I would love to understand more about resilience vs. DNA. About nature vs. nurture. About humanity’s responses to everything from stubbing a toe to the holocaust. I can read dozens of books on trauma (check) and attend dozens of workshops (check). I can draw on lived experiences (years of marriage, parenting, ministry and therapeutic support), and actively seek wisdom from leaders, pastors, and the sages in my community.
However, I cannot go back to that little girl to comfort her in that moment. Nor can I come alongside her as she interprets the events of that day and develops a belief system about trust in relationships.
Refusing to believe I am powerless in these challenges,I try to think about what can I do?
I can choose to walk with those in my life in ways that help them feel seen and known. Far from doing this perfectly (and even far, at times, from doing it well).
I can still choose to step in with people. I can step in and listen before I speak. And when I look back and regret the times I haven’t done this well, I can choose forgiveness. I can ask for others to forgive my failings, and I can do the same as I look in the mirror. I can choose to believe that stepping in with people, even imperfectly, is a part of a grand story being written by the ultimate Author, my Redeemer, and Friend.
I can choose to never give up or throw in the towel. I can fight the disconnecting apathy that might protect me from shame in the moment. I can step in with empathy. And then I can try again.
I can step away from the chaos…and into a moment of knowing. I can close my eyes, deep in prayer. I can call upon Jesus and ask Him to comfort that little girl with the Burger King Hat. Instead of accusing Him for leaving her alone, I can choose to believe in His presence. I can choose to see Him in the room with her. And as tears form in my 54 year old eyes, I can sense the comfort He is offering the little girl in me…today. I can see the love and healing all around me with my soul’s eyes.
Belief in things I do not see acquaints me with the Savior who is there, and ready to heal me. My faith, though unseen, is the most real thing under my feet. And I will choose it - either in strength or weakness, because my Savior has chosen me.
There is a grand story being written, friends. Trust issues do not define us. Our identity lies in something much greater…in Someone who is mighty. May we have the courage to invite the healing in, and may we trust the Author of our story.
POSTSCRIPT:
Today, I have a wonderful relationship with the older child in the story. Her actions were innocent and child-like. I was capable of the same at that age. There is no blame to spread around in this story. My focus is squarely on the meaning behind these kinds of moments, and God’s power to heal.
