What Would You Rather?

When my now seventeen year old niece was little, she used to come to our house and spend the night. In the morning while pretending I wasn’t the last one still in bed, she’d crawl up next to me and chirp, “Are you awake?” Slowly I’d open my eyes and then with a speed she didn’t expect, I would grab her for a brief tickle-fest and say, “yeah, I’m awake.”

Then we’d settle back into the pillows and play our game: Would You Rather. In the beginning, when she was still in wonderment years, the questions were funny, silly. Would you rather have green hair or purple hair? “Purple,” she said. “Well how come?” I asked. “Because Barney’s purple,” she squealed. Hot dogs or hamburgers? Swimming or soccer? When she tired of the game, we’d move to the kitchen and she would help me measure flower and baking powder for biscuits.

As my sweet niece matured, I started throwing in questions that challenged her to put herself in another’s shoes. Would you rather be blind or deaf? A boy or a girl? Be missing an arm or a leg? Hmmm. She thought about these things and we talked about the differences, the up and down sides of each. How about an older convertible or a newer Mustang? “Both,” she declared, “and red!”

It was a way for us to talk about things that were “out there,” but increasingly “in here.” In her life, in her home, in her heart.

Those overnights are less frequent now, boyfriends and softball tournaments claiming much of her time. But when an allegation of child abuse came knocking at her family’s door, her folks asked us to “talk to her; straighten her out.” Sixteen and scared, afraid of exploding the family, losing her siblings and being the one to blame…. We talked, though certainly not as her parents suggested. This time the questions were hard. Would you rather live with your Dad or your Mom? That choice wasn’t really on the table, but we used it as a way to talk about her relationships and to sort through the sometimes messiness of truth.

Today, I use the “game” myself to winnow down priorities, clarify values and make decisions.

The problem with certainty is that it is static; it can do little but endlessly reassert itself. Uncertainty, by contrast, is full of unknowns, possibilities, and risks.  - Stephen Batchelor, Confession of a Buddhist Atheist

 What would you rather?