The Forbidden Candy Story- (ie, My Old Self on Display!)
As we’re talking about knowing our Old Self, here’s a story that demonstrates qualities held by mine, bless my little 10 year old self!
Growing up, my family attended a local Lutheran church, and I was an active member of the elementary school kid’s choir. The kid’s choir was directed by Mrs. Roche who also happened to be one of my mom’s best friends. Our families had been friends since before I was born. The Roche’s daughter was my sister’s age, and they had a son my age named Jamie. We had logged countless hours growing up together.
The truth was, I considered Jamie a bit of a troublemaker. He was usually getting called out for one thing or another, and he seemed to relish causing a ruckus for his mother during choir practice. One Sunday afternoon before rehearsal when we were in the 5th grade, Jamie, and my best friend Amy and I were hanging out. Jamie brought out a hidden baggie, and with a sly smile on his face revealed his contraband—it was full of candy. All kinds of candy— definitely forbidden at choir practice.
“You want some?” he asked, popping a lemon drop into his mouth.
“Are you kidding?” Absolutely no, my internal voice said.“That’s against the rules! I would never do that!”
(Hint hint—here she is! My Old Self revealing her strategies!)
“Sure!” Amy piped up at the same time. (“Ah! Oh no!” screamed my insides.)
Before I knew it, and I have no idea how it happened, Jamie had emptied out his entire bag between Amy and I. This is how we walked into choir practice— Jamie with an empty bag, and Amy’s and my pockets bulging with treats… and my heart racing like runaway train.
I tried to settle. “This will be just fine,” I attempted to reassure myself. As 5th graders held a place on honor on the back row, I thought we’d be safe from discovery. Things were rolling along just fine, until it was Jamie’s turn to sing, at which point it became apparent that something was impeding his singing voice. His mother promptly called him out in front of the choir.
“What’s in your mouth, Jamie?” Jamie proudly stuck out his tongue revealing a lemon drop.
“I got it from Amy and Tracie—they brought all the candy. They have it right now,” he added casually.
If this were a movie, at this point, the camera lens would have narrowed and zoomed in on our faces, standing next to each other, caught red-handed. The temperature in the room rose 100 degrees and my stomach started flip-flopping. Then, Mrs. Roche asked Amy and I to come to the front of the room. The front of the room! As we made our way down, the shame mounted. I actually remember the feeling of the blood draining from my face. To make things even more devastating, she asked us to turn out our pockets. And there it was, the evidence of our crimes, the respected 5th graders and models of virtuous behavior, found out and exposed. In my memory, there were words about her surprise, expecting better of us, and promises she’d be contacting our parents. The shock, the humiliation, the horror! I swear I heard the young and innocent kindergartners give a collective sigh of disappointment toward their formerly-respected mentors.
I don’t remember a whole lot of what happened after this. I remember my mind felt hijacked from thinking about anything else the rest of the day. I remember my trepidation on the car ride home. Amy’s mom was driving us home. Had Mrs. Roche already called my mom? What would my parents do? Their daughter, a pillar of good character, exposed as a phony? I remember my internal determination; I’d go so far as to say even that I made a VOW that I’d NEVER, EVER commit failure such as this again. I don’t remember what happened when I got home… I don’t think my parents mentioned it, and I certainly didn’t.
I can poke fun at myself now as I reflect back on this story, but other things stand out as well. Although a funny story and a relatively “minor” incident, I felt absolutely devastated. I have other questions now such as,
Why did bringing candy to choir practice seem tantamount to selling illicit drugs to kindergarteners?
Why did I feel so unable to speak up for myself?
Why didn’t i refuse to pocket the candy to begin with?
How was a person like Jamie seemingly completely unfazed? How could this kind of person exist in the universe? (Ha ha, I later married someone wired this way! :)
Now here’s a detail that took me years to notice. Actually, I didn’t bring candy to choir practice. What Jamie said actually wasn’t even true. Why didn’t this occur to me?
Why didn’t I try to defend myself in any way? Explain the situation?
Why wasn’t I angry at Jamie?
Why was I so ashamed of MYSELF? And why was I so quick to feel a sense of responsibility and blame for someone else’s subterfuge?
Why did Mrs. Roche respond in the way that she did? And did she actually respond that way, or did it just FEEL that way?
What if I was the choir director? Now, I can almost imagine dozens of playful responses I could give toward wayward, candy-hauling, rule-breaking 5th grade choir disrupters. But not back then!
This story gives a clear glimpse of the constellation of qualities held by my OLD SELF. And surely points to other stories as well. You can discern that these strategies were well in place before this incident, as well as reinforced by it:
Make sure you are always pleasing, respectable, rule-following, and do the right thing.
Make sure you NEVER need correction.
If something goes wrong, YOU are responsible.
Hide well.
Bury your feelings and make sure you NEVER feel this way again.
Don’t misunderstand me; following rules and being respectful is not inherently flawed. But can you hear the intense fear and shame that was driving this energy for me? Can you hear my well-meaning determination to save myself? Battling against these false beliefs has been hard-fought ground in my adult life— to lay down self-protective defenses, to trust in God’s love for me and let Him do the saving, learn what my emotions and body are trying to tell me, sort out what is mine to hold and what is not, and learn to live with more grace toward myself and others. I’m still on this journey!
Many many years later, after I was an adult, I asked Mrs. Roche if she remembered this incident that is so clearly etched in my memory. She laughed and said “no but that sounds just like my son!” The story of the forbidden candy— she didn’t even remember it happened!
What stories give YOU a glimpse of your Old Self, your self-protective strategies, learned when you were young?
