Discernment

When you were an infant people called you shy. You didn't like strangers to come too close, too quickly. You would bury yourself in my shoulder, as if asking for protection. Most often, this need for space didn't last long. You would take some time to observe the person and then you would open up. Unless it was a man with a beard. You were at least 3 years old before you would go near your Uncle Richard, one of the most kind and gentle people on the planet. It became clear that you were trying to learn something before you let people into your space. Apparently, not being able to see all of someone's face, especially the mouth, inhibited your process. But I would not say that you were shy. Once you had a sense of someone, you would engage quite warmly. Even strangers in a check out line might get a hug. But some people you might not warm up to. Most often, I could see why. They were brusque or brooding, usually. What I saw was an intuitive sense of discernment. I was inspired by your ability to trust your own sense and not be swayed by others saying, "He's a nice guy!" These were early inklings of your brand of wisdom. As a mother, I was comforted. I sensed your own ability to protect yourself and you demonstrated this clearly when you were just shy of one year old.

I took you to a conference with me. The conference was in a local hotel and we went with a few people for lunch in the restaurant/bar. They didn't have a high chair, so I sat you on the floor next to me with a couple of your toys and you were contentedly playing. Content until a man came along and reached out for you. You immediately began to cry out. He was surprised at your natural ability to get my attention. It turned out he was testing us. He had been concerned that you were susceptible to a stranger walking off with you. I suppose some babies might be fine with a stranger picking them up and cooing to them. They might find it more comforting that playing alone. But you did not trust this strange person and you would not go quietly. You used the only self-defense system you had: your voice. He was so impressed that he gave you his lucky coin: an antique silver dollar. I'll hold it for you until you are ready to hold on to it as a reminder of your gift of discernment.