The Child Within the Elder

What a Lifetime with Young Children Taught Me About Growing Old

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Dear Reader,

The children I taught never seem to disappear.

No matter how old they become, I see them as the child they once were.

And somehow, they seem to know that I do. They greet me with an open heart - like a child.

Goosebumps. Every time.

It’s a moment that stays with me and begs for processing. It is a gift to meet an open heart - to connect one vulnerable soul to another.

But it can also be a burden.

For me, it comes naturally to approach children with an open heart. In their presence, I want to bear the message that the world is good and welcome to it.

There is plenty of time to learn there are also many challenges in life. Later - when they have developed the emotional and cognitive resources to address them.

But with adults, it’s not so easy. Instead of an open heart, we often safeguard ourselves from being hurt. And that is often what hurts us most.

The young child is open and vulnerable. They have not yet learned to be anything but their authentic selves. No masks, defenses, or ego protecting them.

Looking back, I realize that very child I have loved, lives on in my heart. I knew them before they adapted and loved them just as they were.

That’s the self I encounter in my former students, no matter how old they are.

Now, at this time of life, I am ready to reveal the child in me while I embrace growing older.

To return to the authentic self who expressed herself in childhood.

It’s been one of my greatest joys to witness children grow - in the classroom and in my home. Recently, I have had the privilege of observing our grandchildren growing and learning about life.

The youngest one has had big reactions to minor accidents. Something happens. It hurts. He cries (actually it’s more like a shriek), seeks comfort, but often continues to hold onto the upset.

In time, I have noticed he has become easier to comfort. When a cut on his finger is cleaned and covered with a band-aid, he runs off to play.

By having his needs met, he has learned it is safe to express them.

Lately, he brings me the box of band-aids, showing that he knows the procedure.

But it is not always this way. We are conditioned by our environments. When I grew up in the 1960’s, we were told not to cry. I learned to conceal my pain and to avoid seeking comfort.

I hid the child I once was, the one that still lives deep inside of me. She was too gentle, sensitive, and vulnerable to expose to the challenges of this world.

Yet, in the presence of young children, I have always felt free to bring my inner child out to play.

That inner child is my authentic self - the one I disconnected from. She did not go away but was waiting to be reconnected with.

I am someone who feels things deeply - always have been. At this time of life, I still champion the young child - but also my peers - who are now elders.

They have more in common with the young child than I had realized.

This is how I’ve come full circle. My work has led to this phase of life that I call Entirement. And Life has granted me the time and space to live into it.

That means peeling away the conditioning that taught me to safeguard my most sensitive and vulnerable self in order to belong.

Years of practice in the realm of early childhood has given me a stronghold in nurturing the authentic self, the one I am returning to now.

Every child wants to belong. It’s a human need.

The other day, I went to a Pilates class. It was crowded so I asked two participants to move their mats a little to make room for mine. They did it but clearly, they were inconvenienced by it.

My inner child felt it. But I decided to let that go and love myself. And to see the inner child in the other women.

A sensitive soul sees things not everyone sees and feels things deeply. Would I give up the gifts to be relieved of the burdens?

No, I would not. I accept that my sensitivity creates an imbalance. And that it is a call to love.

As a kindergarten teacher, I could only teach the children if I loved them. That’s what made them feel safe.

The children taught me something I didn’t fully understand at the time.

What they needed was what I needed, too.

I get that now.