The peacekeeper…

She was born a peacekeeper, but not a born peacekeeper. She was simply handed this role without any experience, talent or other qualifications for the job. From the time she was a toddler, she found herself trapped between her mother and father and their issues, including arguments and disagreements. A common theme for their disagreements involved the manner in which to reprimand and deal out punishment for inappropriate behavior between her brothers and sisters and of course, herself. Did her peacekeeping role involve negotiating between the separate parties, including her parents, and getting them to sit down and talk things through rationally? No. Did this involve weighing in with her opinion on how things should be handled? No. Her peacekeeping role involved keeping quiet when she witnessed an injustice, or an injustice was dealt her. Her peacekeeping role involved maneuvering behind the scenes to keep the other shoe from dropping.

She lived her entire childhood trying to fly under the radar and work the peacekeeping magic that she developed through the years. This magic involved a slight of hand or a distraction to draw the soon to be offended party, or the soon to be offensive party, away from the menacing other shoe that was hanging by a toe and sure to drop at any moment and cause an ugly scene. This magic involved trying to make her family smile. If she could just get a smile, then everything would be okay.

She never realized that this was her role until recently. It took her over 30 years to see the light. This epiphany arrived after spending some time with some of her immediate childhood family. She spent two days waiting for the other shoe to drop, exhausting herself by trying to perform magic that she hadn’t practiced in years. She was rusty. Her fingers, ears and eyes weren’t as quick as they used to be. Unfortunately, she couldn’t stop the other shoe from falling. And when it did, it landed on her...the peacekeeper.

All she had to do was keep quiet and not react to a statement made by one member of her family about another family member. She did not remain quiet. She politely asked the person making the ugly statement not to speak in that manner in her presence. She even said please. Was this standing up for the person being offended? At first she thought not, but in retrospect she realized that she did stand up for the family member being maligned, because no matter how nicely, or reasonably, she made her request, she must have known somewhere in her subconscious that her words would surely be the shoehorn that would swiftly bring down the other shoe.

As she looks back on this recent experience, she wonders when she decided not to be the peacekeeper any longer. She realizes that she already knows the answer to this question. It was many years ago in dealing with her adult family, as in her husband, two stepsons and her husband’s ex-wife. When she became a part of this family 17 years ago, she seamlessly took on the same role of peacekeeper that she held in her childhood family. It seemed natural. This time though, her role of peacekeeper was different. Yes, she still maneuvered and performed magic, but she also reasoned, discussed and arbitrated amongst the different parties, including her husband’s ex-wife. For the most part this worked well, and her boys grew up in a better manner than many children of divorce who have to live and adapt to two separate households. When the youngest turned 16 years old, which was 13 years after she first met him, she again revised her peacekeeping role and started barking and biting back when necessary. Then, as the boys grew older, and less contact between her husband and his ex-wife was necessary, she let go of this role altogether—or so she thought.

It was with this history that this grown woman—and rusty magician—who knew better, arrived to visit her family sans her usual husband buffer. Yes, she found herself in the role of peacekeeper once again. But Houston, this rusty magician had a problem—a big problem. She no longer knew how to fly under the radar. Even though she was only a blip on the edge of the radar screen, she was there none-the-less. As she saw the dangerous shoe hanging midair, she pulled out her old bag of tricks and grabbed the wrong illusion. Actually it wasn’t an illusion at all. She accidentally pulled out her adult family’s playbook, not the tricks she applied to her childhood family. She actually tried to reason with logic and respect. She tried to be an umpire. Unfortunately, a wayward pass of the shoe hit her head-on. She was tackled to the ground with words that unceremoniously ended the game.

Is she sorry that she spoke up? No, she is not. She's happy and relieved that she spoke her mind. Why? Because she has always resented being the peacekeeper. As a child, she grew up watching and waiting for the ugliness to arrive. No child should have to live like that—trying to be perfect and attempting to make everything else perfect so that there would be no problems. Her peacekeeping back then didn’t help, it only prolonged the inevitable and kept her parents together, under the same roof, longer than they should have been. When her father died 30 years ago, he had just moved out of her childhood home. She had just begun to see another side of him, including a smile that came easily without the pressure of the many issues that firmly resided within her childhood home. Her mother also smiled a bit more, but without her father in residence, the other shoe loomed larger than life and seemed even quicker to drop.

So why did she speak up? Was it for herself? No, it was for her brother and his family. She didn’t want them exposed to the sporadic, yet always threatening, ugliness that scarred her childhood. Her brother has a beautiful family—two precious children and a devoted wife who deserves the mother of the year award on a daily basis. Her brother is as equally devoted to his family, and he deals with them in an even, controlled and loving manner. Not the manner in which he and his sister were raised. His sister spoke up because she loves her brother and saw that he had his hands full with their family's proverbial overflowing closet of ready-to-drop anywhere, at anytime, shoes. She spoke up because her sister-in-law is a good person and deserves to be treated with respect by every member of their family—not just because she is a good mother and wife, but because has contributed so much to their family...and she has done so while dodging the numerous hooks, barbs, and shoes thrown her way during the past 24 years. Finally, she spoke up because she recognized a bit of the peacekeeping trait in her niece and a bit of the shoe-dropping trait in her nephew. They are only children, and they deserve to grow up in an environment that doesn’t include dodging shoes, or waiting, watching and living in fear of ugly scenes. They deserve an environment that does not include controlling behavior. The eldest has only just learned to drop the other shoe. This negativity can be unlearned, and the youngest can be kept from ever learning to drop any of her shoes. They can both learn to look at the glass half-full, not half-empty. To do so involves tough love, boundless patience and a lot of positive reinforcement.

It can and will be done. Their peace will be preserved. How so? Maybe in part because the rusty magician pulled out the wrong magic trick. Maybe in part because she actually pulled out the right magic trick. But maybe, just maybe, it can and will be done because the peacekeeper went one more round before hanging up her peacekeeping hat for good this time.

Postscript:

Even though the peacekeeper is hanging up her hat for good, she tells me that this does not mean that she’ll give up trying to make people laugh and smile. The difference is that it won’t be an illusion, a trick, or a distraction. It will just be an ordinary chica, being herself...with both shoes securely on her feet and in no danger of dropping anywhere—except in her closet where they belong.

Dedicated to her sister-in law. Chin up chica!

© 2006 Teresa G. Franta