Something That Came to Me Last Night

Last night, as I lay next to the children, helping them ease into sleep, an idea came to me.  I watched it play through my head like a movie - in images and in words and also in feelings.  It was intense and it haunted me.  I shared it with my Mom today and, as I described it to her, she said it sounded like a poem.  That was surprising and reassuring.  She told me that what I shared was something she has never thought of in quite that was and so perhaps it was an original idea, and we don't really have control over our ideas, so perhaps it was meant to be shared.  That was inspiration enough for me to write it up as a poem.  I hope you enjoy it.

How God Sees it, Maybe

At this moment she is experiencing the greatest sorrow of her life

And at this moment he is celebrating his greatest joy.

At this moment he is holding his child, who has just died

And at this moment she is holding her newborn baby.

At this moment a new life is being conceived

And at this moment someone is ending a life.

At this moment a scientist is working to improve the human condition

And at this moment an addict is shooting heroin.

At this moment an artist is creating her masterpiece

And at this moment someone is hitting a child he loves.

And all of this is happening in one moment

Every beautiful awful thing.

And God is in all of us

And so God is in all of it.

And we

God’s greatest work

His beloved

We do all of this

And still

We are his Beloved.

An Ash Wednesday Story

Today is Ash Wednesday - the first day of Lent.  My family and I are Catholics and I typically both look forward to and dread this season of "giving something up that I really enjoy" (technically, though, it is referred to as the season of penance, alms giving and fasting).  Each year the children are more aware and capable of participating in the season and I enjoy sharing it with them.  In the past, they would participate in the alms-giving by putting some of their allowance in a donation box that we give to the church on Easter which supports the charity Catholic Relief Services (CRS).  This year, they have engaged in many conversations about what to "give up" for Lent.  My six year old son decided to give up Nutella - a key ingredient in his favorite breakfast.  My nine year old daughter has chosen not to share her sacrifice and that is just fine with me but has inspired her brother to launch numerous suggestions her way, all of them received with barely concealed contempt and dramatic eye-rolling.  I like Ash Wednesday.  It is not a requirement to attend church on this day, but I always do so because I like the tradition and I like to take the children with me.  So, we all went to church before school this morning and we all got ashes on out foreheads. 

I have never felt weird about having them on my face (even though at some point in my day some stranger will inevitably pull me aside to advise me that I "have something" on my forehead), but this time the children were really self-conscious and didn't want to keep them on at school.  My daughter was especially upset. She hates to attract attention to herself under almost all circumstances, and at her age I suppose attention for being "different" is the worst kind.  I also think she was afraid I would be disappointed in her for feeling that way. I felt disappointment, yes. Thankfully, I was able to sort out my own feelings quickly enough to let her know that I was only disappointed that she wasn't feeling the happiness inside that I was feeling, and that I would not be upset at her if she wanted to wipe off the ashes before she went to school. She apologized over and over, and I said, "Please don't apologize to me.  You don't owe me an apology.  You haven't done anything to me and I am not disappointed in you."  "I know," she said.  After a pause, I said, "Do you think you might be disappointed that you don't feel the same way I feel about the ashes, and maybe you wish weren't worried about what others will think or say about them?"  Amazingly enough, she said "yes" to that, and so I said, "Well, that is ok too.  You can pray about that and maybe some day your feelings will change or they won't, but either way they are your feelings."  When we got to school she hugged me and thanked me for taking her to church. It was sweet. I am so grateful that I didn't get all authoritarian on her and thereby force her to sneak off and wash her ashes off in the school bathroom and then be left feeling ashamed, like she had done something wrong and had to hide it from me.  I am glad I didn't ruin Ash Wednesday for my daughter.  It can be so hard sometimes to know when to hold the line and when to bend, but in the end, my children's spirituality has to come from inside of them and it has to resonate with their own beings.

Becoming Aware of Reasonable Yet Unrealistic Expectations

My son gets credit for being the catalyst for my expanded awareness on this topic.  Yesterday afternoon, in almost every way possible, he failed to meet expectations that I believed were quite reasonable, but in hindsight clearly were unrealistic.  

I sensed the truth of this, vaguely, at the time, but felt the gears of my brain - the old beliefs grinding against the actual, present dynamics - processing too slowly to quell my frustration and desire to bend him to my will for him. Yucky.  I admit it.  Bad Mommy!  My old beliefs say that to be a good mother, I must set high expectations, communicate those expectations clearly, and when my child fails to meet them and does not also express dismay and/or a plan of action to do better next time, I must express my disappointment and/or disapproval, restate the expectation and extract a promise that he or she will try harder next time.  Yucky.  I admit it.  And, all of this despite limited evidence of any success with this method.  At least, not success without some pretty deep scars.  But, that is one of the definitions of insanity, right, doing the same thing over and over expecting a different result.  Well, this insane illogic-loop kept spinning while I took some deep calming breaths and then, because I was still trapped in my loop, stated my expectations calmly and, because some new wisdom was beginning to percolate through, I prayed to let go of the results.  I promised myself I would not repeat myself as evidence that I truly had let go and detached.  I reminded myself that when it comes to my son, verbalizing disapproval of him never, ever gets me the outcome I desire.  I took a few more deep calming breaths.  I managed to maintain the intention to detach, but then steeped in the repressed disapproval all through his little league practice and even barked at him to RUN FASTER as he happily lolly-gagged to first base.  Yuck.  Bad Mommy!  Needless to say, I awoke with some regrets about my parenting choices and entertained a shame-spiral as I sipped my morning chai tea.  Thankfully, I have some self help literature I read daily and today I read this:

 "The greatest obstacle to the learning process is shame. Shame is an excuse to hate ourselves for something we did or did not do in the past . . . . Today I will love myself enough to recognize that shame is an error in judgment." I know this to be true, but it helped to read it again.  

Later, I texted my Mom and shared this story with her.  She had some remarkably wise feedback.  Here is what she wrote (with some minor edits): 

"About unrealistic expectations.  Sometimes we can only see that in hind-sight. Parenting especially is like that because everyday we are faced with one of several 'people' our child is that day or even that morning versus the afternoon. What they were capable of yesterday may not be possible for them in that moment. Sometimes we are graced with insight or telling cues. Other times we are 'blind-sighted'. We are all at different levels of our best on any given day within a range of 'selves'. The wise come to know this. Children are in much greater flux and lack the insight or vocabulary to know what self they are dealing with that day, time, even moment.  So as you know, sometimes we fail, expect too much, and then forgive ourselves for being human. Over and over again."

Here is where I offer up a prayer that I can remember these words the next time I am tempted to slip into my old illogic-spiral because I know there is a better way and I trust that my son and I can find it together.

"I would not exchange the laughter of my heart for the fortunes of the multitudes; nor would I be content with converting my tears . . . into calm. It is my fervent hope that my whole life on this earth will ever be tears and laughter."  Kahlil Gibran

What has surprised you the most about the experience of parenting? If you are like me, in the early days, it was the profound exhaustion, the total loss of freedom, the new appreciation for what "24/7" really means, and the insane LOVE. As my children have grown and become more capable, I find new surprises lurk around each bend in the road. Many of these new surprises fall into the general category of "Feelings." When my children have what I like to call "Big Feelings," it can be hard to know how to handle them. I want to kiss it and make it all better (or at least turn down their volume). But, they are not babies anymore, and the hurts are much more complicated, and this is only the beginning! I am only sure of only one thing - I am powerless over their feelings. Sometimes I really hate that fact, but I am learning to accept it, and with acceptance comes the (sometimes) enjoyable and (always) enlightening process of helping them develop tools to identify, express, and eventually let go of their feelings. Living this process has given me hope - a hope that my children will come to know the vastness of their emotions without being slaves to them or enslaving others with them. This hope inspired me to write a little story for a young friend of mine. When I shared the story with my 9-year old daughter, she enthusiastically volunteered to illustrate it for me.  We hope you enjoy it.

The magic bracelet: