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There is often more to the story.

We are very quick to form opinions and slow to be broken of them, aren’t we? Today my sweet oldest reminded me that there is often more to the story. We’ve been pestering him for weeks to stop wearing shorts. For fear of child abuse allegations we literally hid all his school uniform shorts yesterday and then *thought* we were being funny parents by turning it into an elf stunt. She had a funny diagram of appropriate winter dressing and hung a pair of pants in his closet as an example. It was Kai’s day to pull the note out of the advent stocking calendar in the playroom. He read the clue and immediately went hunting. Cade however, sat sheepishly at the kitchen counter and said quietly, “I already found her, when I was looking for my shorts.”

My mom radar immediately detected something was wrong. Off. Not quite right. He seemed sad, beyond just sensitivity at being the brunt of an elf stunt and I pressed in on that. You see, there is often more to the story. And I had missed it. What I had chalked up to an almost preteen being difficult, was really a fragile child heart trying.

He confessed to me, as I dug through his uniform drawer for a “comfortable” pair of pants (10 minutes before we needed to be in the car and racecar driving to school) that he likes shorts because he gets hot. But that didn’t seem to be it. “How can that be,” I pressed him further, “it’s 30 degrees outside.” And then he said it and it instantly clicked. “I can’t run as fast in pants.” And his shoulders slumped. You see, he’s been trying. Cade has never been as fast or “good” at sports as his peers because of his bilateral Fibular Hemimelia and below-the-knee prosthetics. Even with the improving technology, they’re kinda clunky. As an avid lover of LEGOs and airplanes, we’ve assumed he just isn’t a “sports kid.” But this year, with changing peer dynamics at recess, he’s been doing a whole lot more soccer playing and his little brother, Kai who has the same recess time as him, has been coaching him on. And all those pieces fell into place. Dear friend, there is often more to the story.

Take that and press it in to every confusing relationship, broken place in your heart and bottled up hurts and let it create perhaps, a new lens by which to see. To see those who vote differently, believe differently, exist differently. Press it in on your child’s behavior, into the analysis of your own broken spots. There is often more to the story.

I confess I feel a bit like I failed my precious child this morning. We turned something he was sensitive about into an elf antic. I confess I wasn’t aware-enough to know to press further into this reluctance weeks ago, but rather quickly slapped my own predetermined label onto it. “He’s just being difficult” my heart said, when I should have been doing a whole lot more gentle engaging. And I can assure you friends, I’ve ordered about 78 new pairs of *supposedly* tech material chinos that *hopefully* won’t make him feel even more limited than his peers. I know there is grace here in this mothering space and we all carry the complexities of life. But friends, there is often more to the story.

All these beautiful pictures by Ruth Eileen Photography.