Thank you for my Gift

I used to think that as a parent, it was my job to impart Gifts to my children.  Not the gifts that Santa brings, but the type of Gifts that will live on long after I am gone. I provide them with love and support.  I teach them everything, from walking and talking to how to be a kind and generous person, a responsible citizen, a respected worker, a loving spouse, and a selfless parent.  I viewed the love of parent and child pulsating between two hearts-glowing and magnitizing-but stronger and brighter in one direction.  As a child myself, I have often wondered if my parents have any idea how deeply I love them...yet as a parent, I understand the profound deepness of parental love.  A child's job is simply to love, grow up, and grow away.  A parent's job is to love, to teach, and to stay still.  We are lighthouses atop a rock-a stable beacon of safety and security for our children so that while they may wander, they may always find their way home.

Of course, as parents, we know that it is ridiculous to think our children don't teach us.  Our children teach us every day.  We learn patience and humility, selflessness and humor.  We learn to recapture innocence.  Our children force us to cast off our glasses, smeared and chipped from the smog and hardships of life so we can see life with the same brilliance they see- dazzling and sparkling under the virgin sun...all of it wondrous and new.  It is in these moments that I am overwhelmed by parenthood.  I am weightless in the joy and warmth.

We also know that our children are our beacon of light.  Yesterday I was changing my son's clothes and gave him a kiss on his belly.  He roared with laughter and shouted, "Again!"  I chuckled and repeated....and repeated...and repeated....and repeated.  We were stuck in a moment that will now forever be part of my fabric-his damp baby breath soft on my cheek, his warm hands on my face, and his sweet baby scent swirling and mixing with his laughter as it hung around us.  We were nose to nose, giggling, breathing each other.  In that moment, I was struck that my children are my Gift, straight from God.  These moments are what Heaven feels like, smells like, sounds like.  In that sliver of space between my nose and his-where we connect as one, in the absence of time and the abundance of light-that is where God lives.   In those moments, God shines through my children to show me the way home.

I know that moment wasn't a gift to my son because that moment has already passed through him, indistinguishable from thousands of other moments.  That moment was a gift meant for me-a moment captured with my breath and absorbed by my heart.

So while I give my children the Gifts they will need to grow and live well, they give me the Gift of Heaven on Earth each day. They help me to see as a child sees, as angels see, as God sees.  Every day they walk me closer to Heaven.  While I have been focusing on giving them the Gifts that will sustain them long after I am gone, they have been giving me the gift of Eternity.

Throwing Away New Year's Resolutions

This time of year is my favorite time of year.  Not only is Christmas my favorite holiday, but because I work in the school system, I get a vacation between Christmas and New Year’s Day.  During this week every year, I play with my children, nap, cook, read, and engage in my guiltiest pleasure-morning news television.  The morning news programs tell me why my winter coat is no longer in style, what those crazy  Kardashian sisters are up to now, which movies I must see, and how to turn leftover Christmas dinner into quiche.  However, there is also a darker side to watching morning news television during this week.  This is the week in which the segments are filled with tips regarding New Year’s resolutions.  Each day I learn how to do more with my money, get fit, and eat healthier.  I watch segments on how to be a better parent, a more dedicated employee, and a more responsible citizen.

 What is wrong with all these tips?  Well, in short, they make us feel lousy about ourselves.  Even the term “resolutions” makes me cringe.  Just the act of making a resolution sends a message that we are broken and must be fixed. When we feel incomplete, it changes who we are, how we look at the world, and how we interact with others.  We exhaust ourselves trying to hide our flaws, appear perfect to the outside world, and find the cure for our hideous imperfections.   Every year, most Americans make a resolution, and every year by February, most Americans have already broken those resolutions.  We feel terrible for being such weak and horrible individuals and we spend the rest of the year silently whipping ourselves for our weaknesses, only to begin the crazy cycle again next year.  Why do we do this to ourselves?

I am calling for the end of New Year’s Resolutions and the beginning of New Year’s Celebrations.  We should celebrate that which is beautiful, special, unique, and ordinary about ourselves.  Instead of looking ahead or lamenting the past, we should be still in the moment.  Sit quietly.  Take in all that surrounds us, all that is within us. We should embrace ourselves, our scars, our soft bellies, and our crinkled eyes- for those scars are trophies of that which have made us strong, our soft bellies reflect time we spent lingering over meals with our friends and family, and every line etched around our eyes tells our story of joy or sorrow.  Instead of resolving to change, we should resolve to first love ourselves as whole individuals, perfect and unique, ordinary and rare.  Wrapped up in all our quirks and “imperfections,” we are whole, we are worthy, we are special.   So I raise a glass and toast to you, for all that you are is all that you need to be in this moment.  Happy New Year!

Wordle of My Blog

Here is a wordle I created by entering my blog URL.  I love wordles because it shows patterns in language, and I believe language is so important. Language not only reflects our thoughts and state of mind, but shapes it as well.  Want to change your outlook on life? Pay very close attention to the words you choose and choose more positive, less extreme words and phrases.  I have often noticed that people who speak in extremes often see the world as black and white.  This may not be bad if you are in the white, but what happens when you fall into the black? If you want to challenge yourself, take recent emails to friends, facebook pages, or journal writings and enter into a wordle program and see what you come up with.  What do your word choices look like?  How are your words impacting your outlook on life? How is it impacting your ability to move forward and make the most of life?

Recently my struggles with IVF, infertility and miscarriage have dominated my blog and the language reflects those topics.  I sat for a minute and thought carefully on my wordle.  There are a lot of emotions in my writing of hope, sadness and possibility.  I do a lot of thinking, writing, and feeling.  There weren't any words like "give up", "dejected", "hopeless."  While this period in my life is most certainly marked with sadness, frustration, and medical treatments, I continue to have words of positivity, family, and goodness.  This gives me perspective and helps me see that I am able to be more than this fight for a fourth child.  I am full of life, full of heart, full of family, full of possibility.  I am. (and that is all I need to be).

Running Away

I used to run all the time. I would run for close to two hours every day. People run for a variety of reasons-some like the health benefits, some like the runners high, some like the toned legs and flat belly, some like the peace, some like the challenge. I didn’t run for any of those reasons. I ran to keep my chest from exploding with pent-up anger. I ran to look good-not for myself or for others, but so that the darkest part of me would stop screaming at me about my flaws. I ran from a bad marriage, from a frustrating existence, from a sense of worthlessness, from a past I couldn’t escape, from all the bad decisions. I ran away.  I ran to undo time. I ran to speed up time. I ran until I was exhausted and the voices in my head would be so tired, they would be still for a bit. I ran to sweat out the dark, sticky muck that was clogging my heart, dulling my senses, and weighing my limbs. I ran to think. I ran to sort through all my messy thoughts, which would race as quickly as my feet until we were both empty and exhausted. I ran towards something I couldn’t find.

I don’t run anymore. I don’t have to. I no longer feel the need to run from anything or towards anything. I don’t have to sort things out or try to carve my body back into my younger self.

Today, I went walking. As I looped around the river, I watched hundreds of insects dot the top of the water, giving the impression of rainfall on the otherwise still brown surface, and I thought, ‘bugs.’ I saw a caterpillar precariously creeping across the path and I thought, ‘caterpillar.’ I saw a leaf, crumpled and trampled on the ground and I thought, ‘leaf.’ I heard the swoosh swoosh of my own footsteps and I thought nothing. My mind was still. Peace had caught up to me because I had stopped running.

The Joy (and dangers) of Awakening the Creative Spirit

I didn't realize it, but my creative spirit has been asleep for a very long time.  My idea of creativity was re-arranging furniture and sidewalk chalk art with my children.  Last week I read two books: Play by Stuart Brown and The Gifts of Imperfection: Letting Go of Who You are Supposed to be and Embracing Who You Are by  Brene Brown.  Just like a defibrillator needs two paddles, I needed these two books in combination to create a jolt big enough to bring life back into my creative spirit.  Stuart Brown's book, Play, talks about the importance of people at all ages embracing play and creativity for brain development, stress reduction, connection, and fun.  Brene Brown's book is a wonderful book about connection and self-acceptance.  It was very powerful for me.  The two books together gave me permission to stop and play, and the language and context to feel good about it.  I will no longer hide my creative side in fear that it will be ridiculed or marginalized.  I will no longer make excuses for taking the time to play with my children, read a book, take a picture, or write.  I will no longer pass over those exotic, beautiful, vibrant clothes in the store  because they are "too artsy" and people will think I am nuts if I wear something that isn't black and tailored.   I feel like I was just given a second chance at a life.  Like those that have a brush with death, I feel the urgency and electricity to live my best (creative) life.  It is exhilarating and brilliant. 

So, you ask, "What's the problem?"  Well, I still have one week of classes left before I have a break for the summer.  I have to buckle down, focus, and finish my coursework.  The six year old version of myself is stomping around and whining, "But I don't wanna do that yucky work.  I wanna have fun! I found a new friend and her name is Creativity and I want to go play with her. She is so cool, and she is going to show me how to do all these neat things." I want to spend all of my time with my new friend.  I want to find out all about her, and in turn, find out more about myself.  I want to spend long hours sharing,exploring, laughing, playing, and lingering in our imaginations....but for now, it's off to class and then to work. I just hope she doesn't tire of waiting for me and skip off to find a new friend.

Fun with Photography

I take a lot of pictures of my kids. Most of them are your run of the mill, say cheese kind of photos. I come across blogs and photos on the internet and I see these amazing, brilliant pictures that seem to capture the emotion and the beauty that my photos always lack. So this is my first attempt at photography, not just picture taking. I don't have any skills and I just have a point and shoot, low budget digital camera. Here are some of my test pictures. I was trying to capture the essence of a simple outdoor moment with Grady, my 19 month old son.

Catching Fireflies

When I was young, I loved the fourth of July. The fourth marks some very key moments in the summer. It is the time of year when honeysuckle blooms and the hot air smells sweet and delicious. It's the kick off to summer marked by parades and fireworks, mosquito bites and snowballs. It's dancing and twirling barefoot in the grass, and artwork burned into the inky night sky by sparklers. Most importantly for me, the fourth of July marks the beginning of firefly season. There is nothing like running, jumping, and squealing in delight, deep in the chase for bits of pixie dust floating in the air. The art of the hunt, the thrill of the catch. Catching a firefly is like catching a star, a mystery, a pixie, a fantasy. The night stands still, holding it's breath...waiting. The slow unfolding of the hand, the blackness in the palms, until...THE BURST of light that moves slowly on the fingertips and then floats effortlessly into the darkness. It is a fantastical event that captures the beauty of childhood, the spirit of happiness.

Much of that had been lost for me. Times are busy and somehow Pottery Barn catalogs crept in and eclipsed the brilliance of sparkler art.  I can't identify when I lost that untamed happiness. For me, there wasn't a defining moment but more of a series of events that shaped who I was, what I thought, and how I perceived the world. There also wasn't a moment that I recaptured the spirit of childhood. I didn't find the secret to happiness and now I am dancing around with sparklers at night while proclaiming to love my cellulite. I am, however, moving deeper into happiness every day. I am learning to live in the moment, accept myself, take deep breaths, and drink in joy. I am washing off the dark, sticky tar of guilt and unworthiness.  I am doing the hard work of forgiving myself and finding peace and acceptance in my life. I am catching those brilliant moments of happiness, those that appear magically like fireflies to light up the night sky.  I am learning to coax those moments gently in my hands and then sit quietly and appreciate their brilliance, only to let them go back into the night sky, fulfilled by the hunt, and the glory, of catching magic.