Ode to Claire on Your 9th Birthday

My Dearest Claire,

Happy, Happy 9th Birthday!

My goodness...here we are celebrating YOU on your special day...a day that you have been waiting for...for SO long!

You finally convinced us that you were old enough and responsible enough to get your ears pierced, even if your older sister has no desire to do so.

You also remind us regularly that self confidence is earned and what better way to do so than to kee-yah your way in the world.  This past year has seen you earn new colors of Taekwondo belts, new opportunities to earn trophies at competitions, and multiple chances to spar competitors (especially the ones who are bigger--they're your favorite).

Last spring, we celebrated a very special milestone for you, and for our family.  You were the last member to have a First Holy Communion.  It was a beautiful mass and an important reminder that you are never alone, and that God has such a beautiful purpose for your life.  Watching you twirl in your white gown and pray with family and friends made our hearts happy.

This school year, third grade keeps you very busy.  You could not be more in love with your teacher, and with reading and writing.  You've been feverishly working on a masterpiece entitled, "The Panda Story."  Most days after school and a snack, you grab your journal and my computer and you get to typing.  You've learned about dialogue, character formation, plot, the injection of humor, and the many ways to land a surprise in the midst of the tale.

Watching you grow has been crazy amazing.  Of our three children, you are indeed the most independent and self-sufficient.  You also convinced us that you were ready for a week of summer camp...and so, off you went.  Barely saying goodbye as you prepared your sleeping bag and said hello to your cabin mates, you could hardly wait for bonfires, hiking, swimming, silly songs and crafts.  And then two days before the end of camp, you called to say that you got a bug bite on your eye and that even though it was swollen, you had absolutely no intention of coming home--they just made you call to tell us.

You have a spunk, a feist, a sass, a Hutzpah about you that drives us all mad and also makes you adorable beyond measure.  You are incessantly singing pop songs and mass hymns, while also trying your hand at piano lesson ditties and You Tube medleys.  You love to tell jokes, laugh to the point of crying or peeing your pants, and tell stories about why the chicken crossed the road.

You're also the best and most frequent baker of the house.  Your all-time favorites are banana bread, scones, yellow cake, chocolate chip cookies, pumpkin pie, and really any recipe that you can get your hands on.

As you embark upon this new year, the final one before double digits, cling to your authentic self--even if the expression of it pisses us all off just a little bit.  Never doubt that your spit-fire ways will serve you well for many moons to come.  Trust in who you know yourself to be.  Keep writing.  Keep reading.  Keep imagining.  Keep reminding yourself that you are loved beyond measure--just for who you are.

And when the world feels a little blah--show up and give them what you got.

Kee-yah, Claire...we love you to the moon and back.

Love, Mama, Papa, Kate and Sam

Ode to Kate on Your 12th Birthday

July 8, 2019

My Dearest Kate,

Happy, Happy 12th Birthday!

I can hardly believe that this is your last year before officially becoming a teenager.  How is that possible?

In so, so many ways you are extraordinary--and watching you grow has been the greatest gift.

First and foremost, I don't think I know a more creative individual.

Whether it's the Art Fair at school or art class, you are constantly working with different mediums to paint, sculpt, draw, or design something that brings joy into the world.

But I have to say that this year, you blew all of our minds, when you decided to take an entire year to sew the perfect costume for Comic Con.  You had a vision to bring "Orphea, Heir of Raven Court" to life.  And that you did, sewing an entire costume, building a coffin with purple lights, securing prescription blood lust contacts, locating the best classic platinum blonde wig, and tricking out a pair of Good Will shoes--you truly embodied the part.

Fellow Cosplayers asked to take pictures with you, and for a few hours, you felt like a star.

But that's who've you've always been.  Since you were a little girl, you've been dancing your way into the hearts of everyone who crosses your path.  And it's hard, because in many ways, I still think of you as that little ballerina.

The one who flits around the studio humming and singing, loving just to be in tights and slippers.  But the truth is that you're a serious dancer.  This year will mark nine that you've been dancing and performing at the Omaha Academy of Ballet.  And as such, you'll find yourself dancing 4 nights a week doing ballet (and soon to be on pointe), jazz, and modern dance.  And then, you'll be dancing on the weekend, landing a special part in the Omaha Dance Project.  You're not so little anymore.

Which takes my breath away when I consider that this fall, you will be in 7th grade.  How is that even possible?  And, as a full-fledged middle schooler, you will head to school at o'dark thirty to take advanced math, and continue your service as an altar server, and stay late to be on the Speech team--which has become one of your new passions.

Still, by far and away, my favorite part is watching you voraciously read story book after story book, devouring characters, plot, and the love of language.  You still enjoy participating in the summer reading program and ticking off those hours.

When you're not reading, you're feverishly working on your business--Kate's Customized Dolls.  You take old dolls and repaint their faces, create stylish hair, sew new clothes, and work to sell them at local shops like Legends--our neighborhood Comic Book Coffee House.

To be honest, you inspire me to be present--to sink deeply into the moment, to reach for the exceptional and to be brave when it comes to sharing all of me with the world.  You've never been afraid to be Kate.  You have a quiet inner strength that says, "here I am--all of me--let's get to know each other and create beauty," and that is such a magical gift.

Thank you for sharing your gift of beauty and love with all you meet.  Thank you for being willing to lend your hand and your heart to everyone you encounter.  Thank you for leaving the world and people more beautiful than you found them.  Thank you for saving every love note, your daddy and I ever wrote you from your lunches and for reminding us that the only reason we are here is to love.

As you embark upon this new year, remember a few things.  The world can be cruel and unfair--but you can choose to share your vulnerability, even if others are afraid to share theirs.  Running for the Student Council and not getting elected is okay, because knowing that you have something to say and a way to make things better for others is what really counts.  There's nothing wrong with having only one really good friend.  Making one person feel that they matter is enough.  Sometimes, it can be hard to share a bedroom with your 8-year old sister, when all you really want is to cry or laugh or watch YouTube videos without an onlooker, but knowing how to share your space and your life with someone you love, will make you better.

Never forget that you have a voice and you have a purpose.  Share your unique "you" with everyone.  Being different is an absolute gift.  Embrace that.  Own it.  Relish it.  There is only one Kate and she is a beautiful, vibrant, whole, joy-filled, imperfect, and exactly enough in every way young woman.  Here's to being 12 and all that it has to offer you and the world.

Thank you for letting us share in your journey.

We love you to the moon and back,

Mama, Papa, Sam and Claire
xoxoxoxoxo

Goodbye and Hello

May 17, 2019

Dear Sam,

Today, you will walk out of a building that you have walked into every day for 9 years.

Along with 63 of your classmates, you will say goodbye to the only grade school you've ever known, and hello to what the future holds.

All of the traditions will be in full force...8th grade mass, brunch/slideshow, field day, clap-out, Confirmation, Liturgy, dance, reception, parties...everyone will be celebrating the gift that is you.

And somewhere inside of both of us lies this deep desire to remember, but not to dwell.

To reflect on what it was like to experience kindergarten round-up, Friday folders, field trips, being the library/computer/lunch helper, Harvest/Valentine parties, dialogue journals, music programs, Pioneer Day, Halfway Hoedown, Mother/Son Bowling, field days, state reports, advanced math, STAC, Speech, Scouts, Flag Football, altar serving, First Holy Communion, safety patrol, Science/History Day, Lincoln bus trip, Crew Team, youth group, hot lunch, 8th grade play, card marks, detention, Saturday school, 4th grade buddies, Kindness retreats, Narnia Tea, 6th grade Poetry Reading, braces, piano lessons, Hummel, Kitaki, Terra Nova testing, the bridge project, book reports, power point presentations...the list goes on and on.

And yet, I know that you're ready.  Eager for independence, freedom, autonomy, new experiences, different teachers, opportunities that only high school can provide.

It's time--to go on to the next adventure.

Where you can grow and try.  Reach and soar.  Fail and learn...and become the person that God created you to be.

So, before you do all the things this summer and beyond, here's what I would be remiss if I didn't share:

Know thyself. 

You will undoubtedly, spend an inordinate amount of time in the following formative years trying on identities.  You’ll stumble examining what he wears, how she speaks, what books they read, which jobs they’ve landed, what streets are best, whether or not God is real, what to do with a broken heart, and how to live out your purpose.  The truth is that most of it is window dressing.  It just doesn’t matter. 

If you want to know who you really are, decide how you will treat the forgotten classmate, the irritating co-worker, the strange neighbor—the outcast—the one who rarely gets invited, whom others discard as less than or incomplete.  Eat with them.  Listen to them.  Encourage them.  Believe viscerally that everyone has value.  You can not know how much you’ll grow until you trust that every being has something to teach you.  And while you’ll be shunned for associating with the one on the fringes, you’ll learn about compassion, generosity, fortitude, and that most of the time, the Jones’s are just not that fun to keep up with.

Nothing is wasted.

You are going to hurt.  Life is filled with extraordinary amounts of pain. There will be something or someone that you’re going to want, and you won’t get it—not now, or maybe ever.  The trick is in accepting what is, and choosing to stand back up with hope for what could be.  One of life’s greatest corner stones is knowing that some things were not meant for you, because others are better.

Once you’ve honored what is, you begin to realize that nothing is wasted.  It’s not so much that every person teaches you something new…it’s that when you’re paying attention to the relationship, you realize something more profound about yourself.  When you look back, you’ll realize that you had to meet that person, or do that thing, that led you to that job, which brought you to this opportunity, and now, you are where you are, because everything was used for the good of you.

Stand in Gratitude

You will find that most people are desperate for happiness.  They will indulge in  magic shakes, pills, bottles of spirits, fancy cars, sparkly dresses, spas in all the right places, marriages of convenience—all for the hope of becoming comfortable in their own skin.  And as they consume, the hole of desperation becomes so cavernous that not even the wealthiest can find their way out.  The antidote to this cyclical game of pain is gratitude.

Intentionally choosing to stand in your light recounting that you are enough, and that you are blessed beyond measure is a recipe for peace.  Trusting that all is well while honoring the people and experiences that bring joy—particularly in the ordinary moments—will bring endless contentment and love.  Because the truth is that you are blessed.  There are more people than I can count who live and breathe for your stories, your presence, your engagement in their lives.  And when you reflect, you’ll discover that to love and to be loved is the only reason that we are here on this imperfect planet.

Give It Away

Throughout your education and life experience, you’ll be tempted to hold on to that which you’ve been given.  You’ll feel afraid that there’s only so much to go around, and that the smart people are the ones who cling tightly to what is theres.  I have learned that this place we inhabit is a world of abundance, not of scarcity.  And when I choose to be generous with my time, my gifts, my knowledge, my listening ear, my hope—everything is returned.  Not necessarily by the same people or in the same ways that I might have expected—but when I’m in need, the world rises to meet me—and suddenly the pie grows bigger, not smaller.

If you only knew how much the world wants your dreams to manifest or how  it seeks to conspire with you—you’d never be afraid to lend a helping hand or an encouraging word to another.  You’d recognize that we’re all here in the pursuit of something greater than our present circumstance, and that every life and interaction is intentional.  So give it away.  You’ll be amazed at what comes back to you.

Your Words Matter

As you know, I am in the business of stories.  I listen to people share their truths, and help them to build a new story that hopefully makes the future look better than the past.  The reality is that we all live our lives through the lens of story telling.  And as such, your words matter.  Take the time to think before you speak. Better yet, seek to understand, before you jump forward to be understood.  If you want someone to pay attention to your opinion, you must be willing to listen and to bear witness to theirs first.  Beyond listening, honor that their truth has just as much relevance as your own.  And when you hear something that you vehemently oppose, get curious.  Stand in the space of curiosity over certainty.  Decide that there must be more to the story, before you deem the story teller absurd.  Great battles, family divisions, and community upheavals have ensued because people made bold and unchecked assumptions about the other.  It is worth taking your time to listen to the story of the other, and to carefully share not only the ‘what’ of your own, but also the ‘why.’

Action in the Face of Fear

If you’re really living and not complacently going through the motions, you will be afraid to do something, to leave someone, or to give skin to the dream that lies deep within your heart.  Fear is good.  It signals that we care about what is before us, and what comes next.  What we do with this emotion determines our outcome.  As someone who has battled with fear and anxiety more than most, I can definitively tell you to choose motion over paralysis.  Everything you want lies in the unknown.  And the odds are that the steps to get there are not as insurmountable as you perceive. 

You watched as I crossed the finish line at a marathon.  Your father witnessed me submit a graduate school thesis.  Friends helped to launch my business into the market place.  And in every one of these experiences, I was deeply afraid of failing.  And the truth is, throughout the process, I failed multiple times.  I passed out on the trail from lack of hydration and proper nutrition during marathon training.  I had to throw away more than half of my thesis when my advisor explained that the argumentation was not sound.  I was terrified to get my business off the ground. And yet, in the failure came the learning and bizarrely, the dissipation of fear.  Putting one foot in front of the other, controlling what I could in the moment, instead of becoming overwhelmed by the totality of the endeavor saved me.  And it will save you.  Don’t shrink.  Lace up your shoes.  Fear can be used to propel, instead of to immobilize you.  

Choose Love

Our deepest desire is to be loved.  We yearn to belong.  This never goes away.  So, as you navigate all kinds of relationships, recognize that you cannot control another’s response—you can only control your own.  And so, when faced with the choice to gossip, to render petty commentary, to inhabit negative head space—choose love.  At every opportunity, take the high road.  Believe in the goodness of others, and pray for the ability to understand.  Forgiveness, compassion, grace, hope and kindness live deep within you, and while you’ll give them to others, you’ll find that you’ll really be giving them to yourself.

I am certain that I have many more snippets of advice, but for today, this will serve as enough.  We are SO proud of you, and all that you've accomplished.  You are a good person.  Here's to goodbye and hello.  We're thankful to be on the journey with you.

All my love,

Mama

Ode to 44

Today, I turn 44.

Holy buckets or bananas or bazolies or shit...

I'm not sure how to frame this birthday, except to say that all of the things are happening at once, and I'm a crazy ass bag of emotions.

Yesterday, we celebrated our youngest daughter's First Holy Communion--Claire represents the last First Communion for our family.  It was such a sacred, beautiful experience.

In two weeks, our oldest graduates from nine years of school at Saint Margaret Mary's, and celebrates his Confirmation.  And then heads off to DC, sleep away summer camps, detasseling corn, mowing lawns, and high school.  Again, I don't have words.

Meanwhile, our middle one finishes 6th grade in three weeks, is also off to sleep away summer camp, designs her own clothes and has decided that friends, books, and ballet are where it's at.

People told me this would happen--you know that they'd grow up and forge their own paths--but I thought it was so far down the pike that even conceiving of it seemed silly.  Now, I tend to cry at the drop of a hat wondering where the time's gone...and why it's not possible for us to go to the pool, eat a million popsicles, read stories, and play board games.  I seem to vaguely remember the sleepless nights, constant diaper changes, inability to go anywhere without taking half your house, and the incessant, "Mooooommmm." 

When I'm being honest with myself, I recognize that at the age of 44, my children don't need me to mother in the same ways I've grown accustomed to.  They need me in different ways.  Mostly to carpool.  Sometimes, when I'm lucky (especially with my teenager), to listen.  Other times to help study.  But largely, they have their own friends, pass times, desires, and seem to be really good with where they're at. As such, I know that I need to find me differently.

My deepest desire as I embark upon this squarely middle-aged age is to dive unabashedly into all of the parts of me that I've chosen to back-burner while mothering young children.

Last summer, I formally started a private conflict resolution practice--mediating, facilitating, training, and teaching.  It was a big step...but it was just a step.  I'm ready for more...and really, to go all-in.  I'm yearning to see who I would be if ran toward the song in my heart and away from the fear in my head.

Likewise, in the past six months, I've come to know of three extraordinary people in their 40's who died unexpectedly.  They were healthy people with families and reasons to be here.  Like a punch to the gut, they serve as a profound reminder that tomorrow is guaranteed to no one, and today needs to be lived--not in the way others think best, but attuned to the cry of my own heart.

And to that end, 44 feels exciting.  For the first time, in a long time, I feel space.  Room to breathe.  Opportunities to grow.  Time to be on my yoga mat, and with my running shoes.  Earned knowing that my children are (for the most part) okay, and it's okay to leave them alone, so that I can be nurtured and intentionally attended to.

As I look forward, I'm praying for another 44 years, but if I only get this day, or next year, I say thank you for the gift of rediscovering me--all of me--the woman who loves to write, read, curse, listen to podcasts, mediate conflict, instruct college students, carpool to school, read the New York Times, drink vats of coffee, buy buckets of tulips at Trader Joe's, laugh with my husband, squeeze my children, and give thanks for the infinite chances to construct this one precious life given to me.

Here's to 44...emotions and all.

Yes and No to Us

15 years brings an incredible amount of choice. 

So many moments to say yes to the hard, gritty good stuff...and no, to that which is not meant for us.

Here's to the myriad of yes's and no's that we've attested to in our union.

Yes, to commitment--to the continued decision to do all of the things--and I do mean all of the things. 

Ballet, Taekwondo, Piano, Football, Speech, Scouts, STAC competitions, Narnia projects, summer camps, First Holy Communion, Small Faith Confirmation group, art supplies, sewing materials, Magic the Gathering tournaments, homework, play practices, recitals, pick ups, drop offs...

Yes to dishes and laundry and endless trips to Costco.  Yes to "she seems sad, what do you think?," and "Why is he being an asshole?," and "I can't get her to talk to me."

Yes to "you should start your own business...I know you're afraid...do it anyway.  I'll be here, no matter what."

Yes to, "I think she just threw up, and your mom called, and I need to stay late at work, and what the fuck am I going to make for dinner?, and I'm so, so, so tired."

Yes to, "Oh my God, he got a scholarship...she's reading Harry Potter books...and her art work is amazing."

Yes to, "I'm sorry," not because it's required, but because we can't bare the first sip of coffee until we've owned our part.

Yes to prayer and uncertainty and relentless hope for the future. 

Yes to "I believe in you," and "trust me," and "help, I can't do this by myself."

***

No to excuses and "we've got tomorrow," especially after Nathan died.

No to comparison and the remote possibility that the grass is greener on the other side.  We've met them, and the Jones's just aren't as fun as we are.

No to disrespect, meanness, jealousy, and petty comments that serve no one.

No to "I'm putting in more than you," because at the end of the day, we're both all in.

No to screaming louder or keeping score.

No to being the preferred the parent.  We know that you are.

No to making a bigger deal out of it than it deserves.

No to giving any energy to the things and people who take us away from what matters most--our faith and our family.

***

Fifteen years equals 15 million moments of picking us again and again--knowing that this--all of this--is imperfect, strained, a work in progress--a beautiful, messy, hodge podge of a life that we get to call ours...all because we said yes in a little church and no to giving up...and amen to the promise of something better because we are together.

Happy Anniversary, my love...

Ode to Sam on Your 14th Birthday

February 8, 2019


My Dearest Sam,

Happy 14th Birthday!

When I look back, I can hardly believe where the time has gone.

I used to live by your nap schedule and count down the hours until I'd make macaroni and cheese and read your favorite dinosaur books.  We'd alternate between story time at the library, trucks at the park, goggles and noodles at the pool, sharks at the zoo, and dress-up at the children's museum.  In between calling you "Bug-A-Boo," "Peanut Butter and Jelly," "Samuel (saam-well)" and "Love Bug," I used to spend hours doing puzzles, reading books, orchestrating dance parties, mixing colors for finger paint sessions, and building Lego creations.

Then, you got bigger and wanted to read Harry Potter stories on your own, and spend more time hanging with your friends and your cousins.  But, we still found lots of ways to have adventures together.

We traveled on airplanes and visited cool cities, family and friends.  We rode bikes together.  You cheered me on at races.  And let me embarrass you in a Turkey costume at school, and honor you by reading at your First Holy Communion.

Bit by bit, you started to grow and grow and grow...

And one day, you had braces...and started going camping with the Boy Scouts and to Kitaki with your friends.

And pretty soon...you got a phone, and Friday night plans, and lawns you mowed on the weekends, group text messages and an upcoming 8th grade trip to Washington, D.C.

We celebrated our last Mother and Son Bowling Night at Saint Margaret Mary...and I cried when you weren't looking.

I love you so much that I think my heart might burst.  You are the brightest, kindest, funniest, most interesting person on the planet.  Your ability to judge character while at the same time choosing not to be judgemental is such a rare gift.  Between getting up at 5:50am for Advanced Math to competing on a Quiz Bowl team, playing the piano, working toward your Eagle Scout, being the school play's stage manager, and working up your new piece for the Speech team, I stand in awe.  You're the real deal in such a compassionate package.

So, as you embark upon the end of middle school, and look toward high school...hear me well...it is not your brains or your brawn that will be the greatest measure of your strength...it will be your ability to get back up again and again when life brings you to your knees.  It will also be your choice to bring others up with you, when you (or they) have fallen.  It will be your grit.  Your determination.  Your faith in something greater than the present circumstance.

And when you are tired and unsure, I will be there to remind you of who you are.  I will encourage you to stand back up again, and to keep fighting the good fight.

There is so much goodness in this world.  And the world is waiting for you to bring your you-ness to it.  If there is anything I've learned, it doesn't pay to try to be someone you're not.  It's a big fat waste of time.  Sink deeply into the person that you're growing into.  Embrace Sam Gering.  He's such a cool cat--don't just take it from me--I have it on good faith that loads of others think similarly.  Know thyself and trust that you (all of you) is enough to manifest the dreams you have inside your heart.

Your dad, sisters, and I think you are incredible, and that you harbor the power to be all that you yearn to be.

Cling to that, and know beyond a shadow of a doubt, that you are deeply loved.  If I told you daily, it wouldn't be enough.

Ode to you on your 14th birthday, my son.  I love you to the moon and back.

Mama