The Social Battery I Didn't Pass On
An artist wouldn’t hold up a blank canvas and call it his masterpiece.
Author’s note: This was originally written a little over a week ago. It’s been sitting in my drafts gathering dust and collecting cobwebs. I’ve had more thoughts since then, but I’ll save those for another post, maybe a part two, maybe even a series. Who knows? Why am I setting trap for myself? Anyway, let’s get into it.
I’ve always acknowledged that nature and nurture are inseparably linked. But tonight, I had one of those moments where “nature” seemed to announce itself loud and clear.
I’m introverted. My husband is introverted too, though his social battery lasts longer than mine. When we go to events, I’m already drained before we’ve even settled in. Sometimes my energy runs out just thinking about it.
So when we headed out this evening, our first major family outing of the quarter, filled with plenty of strangers, and I was already budgeting my energy. I thought our toddler would be the same. Maybe she’d cling to me in an unfamiliar environment. Maybe she’d frown or hide when a friendly stranger waved. After all, I’d read that temperament often passes from parent to child. Slow-to-warm parents, they said, tend to have more cautious kids.
That would make sense, right? Two introverted parents, so naturally, a reserved child.
Nope.
She was asleep when we arrived at the Cocoon Sessions, a Christian music event with live music, spoken word, and, yes, strangers. But then she woke up and within minutes, she was darting around, waving at people, clutching strangers’ legs, doing a bit of “interpretive dance” to the music, even scribbling on a board with a marker. Not a tear. Not a flicker of hesitation.
And it wasn’t just that she was fine. She thrived. She was radiant with joy, almost buzzing. Meanwhile, I was quietly running on fumes, even though I was genuinely enjoying myself. It was really good music after all. Oh, the paradox.
Despite two introverted parents, my daughter is her own little person, shaped by something deeper than environment alone.
As much as nurture matters, there’s also this mystery of nature, the way God forms us in the womb. Psalm 139 says, “You created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made.” My daughter’s spark, her boldness, her energy…it’s all part of how God made her.
An artist wouldn’t hold up a blank canvas and call it his masterpiece. Why would it be any different with God’s design of us?
Now, back at home, I’m wiped out and wishing tomorrow were yesterday. She’s still lively, bouncing around, carrying that same energy.
I’m reminded: our children don’t arrive as blank slates for us to write on. They come already carrying God’s fingerprints, already fearfully and wonderfully made.
Author is back and author would like to recommend one of the “really good music” she listened to live that day.
Daughter by Ire Toluhi
Amazing insight as usual. Looveet