Friday, May 17, 2019

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





Monday, May 6, 2019

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.