FINDING THE JOY IN EVERYDAY LIFE
But what I do know is this: it’s okay that her faith looks different from mine. She is she and I am me. Sounds a little Seuss-y, but it’s true. I teach her when and how to pray, but the fact of the matter is, the girl prefers the close-ended Catholic/Episcopalian dinner prayer over the open-ended Protestant one every day of the week. And I won’t correct her on her prayer because I won’t correct her on her relationship with God. It’s hers, not mine.
So, I’ve seen the “growing back lovelier than ever”, and it was nice to be reminded of it as I continue praying for miracles in the lives of those I love. It was nice to be reminded of how weak I was, and how strong I now am. I waited and hoped. I was very well cared for. I was prayed for. I tended to myself with an impressive collection of teas, soups, meds, and naps. And here I am, living a life that’s lovelier than ever.
I can feel HOPE around the corner, looking out for me. Almost like she’s guarding the space where I can’t see. She’s fending off hopelessness and despair. She’s telling fear to take a hike. She’s telling anxiety and bitterness and pessimism they’re not welcome where she is.
For two years, I did what I thought I was supposed to do. I posted “authentically” in various online spaces. I hosted a podcast. I wrote for other blogs. I did all of those things, and it was just … not me. Bits and pieces of it were. But the stuff that drained me was not balancing the stuff that invigorated me.
The gentle grace of parenting in these days comes from the promises you made to them when you met them:
I’ll always take care of you.
I’ll always protect you.
I’ll always love you.
I’ll do my best to show you the way.
In order to do those four things, we have to engage the gentle grace our Heavenly Father so abundantly lavishes on us. Remember how loved you are, then pay it forward by loving them well.
Today, as your soul whispers But I don’t want this or that, I want something in between… listen to it.
If one end is joy & the other is grief, pull both together; invite them both over for dinner and see how your soul rests in both.
If one end is structure and the other is creative freedom…
I’m so uncomfortable in that middle, in that act of changing. I want to be there already. It’s kind of like going on vacation. I want to jump from my front door to the hotel, post haste. I know we’re supposed to enjoy the journey and everything, but … I’m good, God, just get me there.
And even though this happens on the regular, I am surprised every time. Which means God has a chance to work on me. Every. Single. Time. … Sound familiar?
We pray and hope and work for things that we want. We receive blessings and bad days and more blessings. Sometimes--once in a blue moon, as far as I've ever experienced--those blessings arrive *precisely* how I imagined they would. Most of the time those blessings are quite different from what I pictured. Sometimes that's okay. Sometimes I utter, "That's not what I meant," and I have to dig a little deeper to find the gratitude I know I should be feeling.
I don’t want to embrace it. I want this Comedy of Errors to stop. I want to tell the writers of whatever tricked-ya TV show I’ve landed myself in to stop writing, joke’s over, I’m tired, we can all go back to our regularly scheduled programming.
You can schedule naps and you can have regular pizza nights and your child should expect consistency with love and discipline.
But you can’t plan for the wardrobe conflicts, the naked painting, the totally developmentally-appropriate yet unexpected “let’s do this instead” moments that can throw parents into a tizzy.
But that's okay, because some rules are meant to be broken. Sometimes...
Still, assuming that the rain was going to continue made no sense to me. If I had meteorological instruments available to me, then I could find out if it’s a weather system that would be around for a few days. But generally speaking, looking at one day’s rain shouldn’t predict the next day’s weather.
In a recent Blue Bloods episode, Danny reveals a family pact the adults all made the day their children were born: We made the choice to bring you into the world. You didn't make the choice, we did. So a bargain was struck that day that you owe us nothing and we owe you everything.
He's right. We owe our children everything. …
Our Life Story is made up in fractions. However, since we forgot everything we learned in third grade math I think sometimes we get stuck and think that PART of our story is going to end up being our WHOLE story. But that's not the case. Basic math tells us that PARTS and WHOLES are very different, and that one piece does not define the whole pie.
My point is not that you agree or disagree with whatever War we haven't to be in. The point is that these soldiers/airmen/marines/seamen/coast guardsmen, without knowing you your family or what you stand for, at the drop of a hat will go to defend you.
Seligman and friends' research shows that people who focus on the good have better health, better relationships, are better leaders, and even live longer. Chronic stress can actually decrease your brain. I don't know about you, but I want to live a long, good, healthy life with a normal-sized, well-functioning brain.
Did I look up enough? Or did I spend my day looking down at a screen? My generation of parents have "screen time" in their vocabulary, which pertains to the amount of time children spend in front of a screen. But what about the parents' screen time? Studies have shown that kids feel sad, ignored and dismissed when their parents are on their phone too much.
It would be really great--and it would make this counselor heart so very happy--if we could have a universal, required-for-adulthood training on boundaries.
You know who shouldn't have to learn how to listen? Grown-ups. We should be in control of ourselves enough to listen, respect, and engage with one another in an appropriate manner. But since we're not a perfect people, that is not always the case.
I think we're not meant to be people who give up. We're not meant to lie down and let the darkness swallow us. I think we're meant to rise up, to fight back, to give it everything we've got even when it's harder than it's ever been.
I believe that when we fit something into our life that doesn't really belong, it's more than our joy that's sucked away. Energy, time, resources, and general well-being all suffer because we are so determined to fit / cram / stuff everything in, all in the name of ...
Or, if I'm hanging out with that same mom, we could find companionship in our struggles and lean on one another for support and encouragement to improve our relationship. I could say, "I struggle with that, too. It's not just you." Focusing on the commonality and the fact that we could love each other through the mess would be so much more constructive than writing each other off as a snarky witch who cares only about her super-smart kid.
Regardless, motherhood is a universal yet personal experience, it's an identity, it's a way of being.
But it's not all she is.
She's more than Mom.
We want everything good for our kids, and as a parent you discover pretty early on that you'll do almost anything to make your child laugh and to see her happy. The simplest and best way I know to do that is to lift our daughter up to the God who created her and ask Him to protect her, to guide her, to love her, and to help her love Him. Then, and only then, do we feel a little better about sending our baby beyond ourselves.
You know what else is important that we don't talk about very often, myself included? Self-compassion. We're so often encouraged to show kindness and compassion to others, which is the right thing to do, but when we are going through something difficult, why is it so hard to turn that around on ourselves? Sure, we do something nice for ourselves, like eat a box of cookies (no? just me?) or we take a night out with our friends. But the self-talk stays: I'm ridiculous, I'm a terrible mom, I failed -- AGAIN, and on and on and on.
As we walk through life today, let's remember that most people are making it through the best they can. Give a little grace and a little bigger smile, and move about your day.
Below is an excerpt from chapter 4. I wrote every chapter number you asked for on a separate piece of paper. For those of you who asked for all of it, I wrote a random number of my choosing ;) Then I had my mother-in-law randomly choose a piece of paper. Keep in mind:
- This is part of the chapter, not the whole thing.
- This is part of the working draft, which, like your cable television bill, is always subject to change without notice.
- The title is also in the works, so no reveal for that yet.
- Feel free to guess plot points and to share what you like/don't like (really!).
- Don't mind the formatting. A writer I am; a web format manipulator/expert I am not.
- This is a work of fiction, which means any resemblance to real-life is coincidental. Fiction is an amalgamation of a writer's real-world experience and his/her imagination.
When your friend has concrete ideas which are different than yours about religion, gender, climate change, the second amendment, or Yankees vs. Red Sox, maybe we could hear the humanity behind the hubris and realize that their different opinion is not a bad opinion. Just a different one.
The other day I traveled through airports with my daughter, just the two of us. It was not what I'd call a fun day. She'll be 2 in July so it was a lot of this way and that, a lot of NO (from both of us, ha!), and squirrelly-ness galore. I cried a couple times. And I thought about my feelings about that phrase, 'but they're worth it'.
I think sometimes we miss the point of life and its struggles. We are not meant to be comfortable all the time. Great things were not done by comfortable people living comfortable lives. I think sometimes we're unwilling to put up with something that's uncomfortable because we aren't willing to look past our own short sightedness. I think we complain too much instead of hunkering down and realizing that this ain't nothin' but a phase.
I am Democrat. You are Republican. Peace depends on me.
I am a woman, you are not; peace depends on me.
I am a Christian, you are not; peace depends on me.