When I was a kid, I was terrified of Superglue.
This was because my mom once told me to stay away from it because Superglue was permanent, and if I got it on my hands, my fingers would be stuck together. What happens if it gets on my eyes? I asked, Well, she said, it would glue them shut.
Looking back, I realize that it never occurred to Mom that this exchange would cause me to believe that if I touched superglue, my eyes would be sealed shut FOR THE REST OF ETERNITY. She just wanted me to leave the stuff alone, to understand that it wasn’t a toy.
Out of such misunderstandings, neuroses are born. Until quite recently, I left all supergluing to my husband. I would consent to buy the tube—holding it warily between two fingers—but he had use the stuff.
And then came the day when a toy had to be fixed, and Christian was at work, and had lessons after dinner, and…and I realized that I was being ridiculous. I pulled out the tube, took a deep breath, and glued the sucker back together.
Guess what? I got superglue on my fingers. And Mom was right. It’s permanent. By the time I got to the sink to wash it off, it had already set in a thin film on the pads of my fingers. It wouldn’t come off. And so, for the next three days, my sense of touch was veiled with this creepy feeling of muted sensation.
But then that layer of skin wore off, and the world returned to its proper state. My fingers were not locked together for all eternity. Who’d’ve guessed?
My newfound freedom from Superglue Terror is a really good sign. Because although the adult Kate is in many ways an improvement on my childhood self—in terms of empathy, understanding of faith, even patience and capacity for suffering—although in these areas I’ve grown, I’ve also lost something.
It used to be that when I made my mind up, it was made up. I might wrestle with tough questions for quite a while: a tenet of faith, a bad habit, an uncharitable attitude toward someone or something. But once I changed my mind, it was done. I didn’t waffle, didn’t lapse back into ugly old habits. When I had a choice to make, a theological tangle to unravel, I might puzzle over it for quite a while, but the end of the internal discussion was very clear, and when it was past, I never second-guessed myself. Options abandoned were truly abandoned.
The first time I found myself agonizing over a resolution made and (I thought) done, I was very disturbed. By the tenth time it happened, I realized that this was the new normal, and I mourned the loss of clarity. A beloved uncle nodded sagely and sighed, “That’s the difference between childhood and adulthood.”
It no longer surprises me when I double and triple guess myself, when I seem pathologically incapable of letting go of the struggle. There are decisions I continue to question, slights I can’t forget—some grad school roommates I still haven’t been able to forgive, despite repeated prayers for the grace to do so, despite eleven years’ worth of attempts. The memory of that awful semester still smarts.
This is why I take New Years Resolutions very seriously. For weeks leading up to January first, I soul-search, trying to discern what self-improvement is necessary and reasonable for the coming year. And the frustrating part is that all too often, my new goals end up looking pretty much like my old ones, because I really haven’t made a lasting change in my habits.
But I’m beginning to make peace with this. I realize the truth of the adage old habits die hard. The wonder of childhood, and the reason it’s so important, is that children are so pliable, so easy to mold. In adulthood, our skins thicken while our souls stiffen.
And this is why I find such hope in my newfound ability to use Superglue. It gives me hope. It is possible to teach an old dog new tricks…you just have to be willing to put in the effort.
Kathleen M. Basi 
I actually got my fingers superglued together… dh had to run to the store to buy nail polish remover. The toddler was down for her nap but the baby was awake…it’s hard to care for an infant when one hand is impaired… I am soooo careful of superglue use since then… and that was nearly 18 yrs ago 🙂
Is it okay to laugh?
I completely understand, because I feel the same way about matches and fire. Obviously, parents teach their children not to play with matches, but to this day, I cannot strike a match for fear of burning my fingers off! Then I envision myself panicking, dropping it onto the floor, and burning the house down! 😛
Yes, it’s silly. LOL And the day will come when a match will need to be struck, but in the meantime, I’ve purchased those fire-starting wands with long barrels. 😉
I suppose that is why Jesus tells us to believe with the faith of children, because the world is black & white to a child. They don’t second-guess what people teach them… and you know what? That is the hardest commandment to follow. It really is.
With age and experience, nothing is crystal clear. We’ve developed into creatures who take both sides of a situation into account.
For me personally, as I begin to understand and empathize with the other side, it’s become increasingly more difficult to remain firm in the belief that we are “right” and they are “wrong”.
I find myself just accepting people as they are.
Which is also what Jesus taught. I have this hazy idea that at the other end of life, if we’ve done our faith-work properly, we’ll come to the same conclusions that children do, only we’ll have all the understanding beneath it.
My mom told me once, in the throes of doubt, that one of the saints (Thomas Merton? Thomas Aquinas? I can’t remember) had said you CAN prove that God exists, but the study it takes to get there takes so long that it’s better just to accept it on faith.
“you CAN prove that God exists, but the study it takes to get there takes so long that it’s better just to accept it on faith.”
Haha, I like that! Your blog has a way of distracting me from getting anything done at home, because I’ll set off on Google – digging through tons of articles on Thomas Aquinas – trying to find out which saint you quoted. 😛
Although I’ve never questioned the existance of God as such, I’ve often found myself questioning whether He is always right. Obviously it’s a silly thing to ponder over, and as one friend often pointed out,
“If God’s actions seem unethical to you, then it is your ethics that are at fault, not God.”
I could argue with that person for days and not get anywhere. 😉
I was at a self-defense for women class today, and the speaker stated the (opinion, fact, observation) that men tend to get more confident as the age and women tend to get less confident. I’m not sure if I agree with it or not, but something in your blog made me think of it.
On the surface the sort of things you are talking about are not exactly about confidence … habits exist regardless of whether we think they’re right or wrong … but then again, there’s a certain arrogance to youth, that says “I can do anything, nothing can touch me” and a certain obliviousness to how long-lasting the consequences can be of our decisions. So when we make up our mind, it doesn’t occur to us that we might fail, or that things might be difficult, or that we might be wrong, we just blaze on, and then because we are rock solid certain we can do it, we do. Mind over matter – or mind over mind.
And perhaps because over the years we have screwed up, and we have learned we have limits, and we have learned we can be harmed, we lose that mental edge – that liberating arrogance of certainty that is granted to youth.
Loved this. I truely appreciate people who write things to encourage others. I love doing that.
Greg Hench (You can see mine under NOTES on my facebook.