21 Days: Day 20 and TWENTY-ONE

It is with great relief that I’m writing this last installment. I honestly couldn’t bring myself to write yesterday after suffering from a serious bout of second guessing. It’s crazy how sometimes a little tiny bit of negative can infiltrate so much positive and make you question yourself.

Today, I went to the Niles campus of The Movement to hear my favorite Niles Campus pastor speak and was greeted with love, hugs, and several people thanked me for writing this blog and told me that reading about my struggles helped them. That mattered more than any criticism that had me kind of second-guessing if I was being self-indulgent or oversharing.

I strive for self-awareness, but I’m a work in progress. It is usually far easier to see flaws in others than it is to recognize them in ourselves. So I struggle on putting one foot in front of the other and praying for clarity and wisdom.

1. Each day that I woke focused on gratitude, my awareness of the goodness, grace and love around me was heightened, and I will continue to count my blessings day and night.

2. In the worship experience today, one of my favorite singers sang an amazing song. And as her beautiful voice singing the most powerful words sank into my heart, many of the experiences of the last 21 days washed over me, the good, the bad, the trying … they all choked up in my throat and finally spilled out of my eyes and down my cheeks. I wanted to run out of the building and curl up in my car and cry. I’m usually pretty private and choosy with my sharing, but I have opened up my heart, mind and life in this tiny little space and in return, I’ve gotten grace, commiseration and so much love. I’ve also gotten criticized and psychoanalyzed. Most importantly, I’ve gotten chased down by people who told me that my words made a difference to them. Thank you for chasing me down. You made a difference for me.

3. Thank you for reading this and encouraging me. Thank you, Brad Bell, for being patient and long-suffering as I put my neuroses and our life on blast. Thank you, my girlfriends, for being supportive and amazing superwomen. Thank you for every like, comment, text and email. Thank you, my church family for every hug. You all have no idea how much you touch my heart.

Putting all your crazy out there for public consumption sometimes blows up in your face, but all of your love, all of your me too’s, all of your hugs and winks and high fives matter. Thank you for being my people.

I’m feeling pretty raw and overexposed, so I’m gonna crawl into my shell and recover.

I realize listening to that song today that it doesn’t matter what anyone thinks about why or what I write. God sees my heart, and He knows my motivation.

“Through it all; my eyes are on You, and it is well with me.”*

*This isn’t my favorite Movement singer performing; still, the song, the performance, and the message are awesome.

Thank you!

xoxo

21 Days: Day 1

I woke up with anticipation and hope wondering what meaningful experience I could write about. Funny thing about that: When you approach life looking for blessings, that is exactly what comes to you. Power of attraction, intention … call it what you will, but I’m gonna call it a fact.

1. I spent way more than 2 minutes counting plenty of blessings not the least of which was waking at my normal 5 a.m. and functioning caffeine-free–that, my friends, is nothing short of miraculous.

2. While I’m not scrolling through pictures and status updates and actually spending time being present in my own life, I have way more time to spend engaged in one of my favorite activities: Reading. So today, I took a long look at my Goodreads to-read list and requested a few from the library. Our little Cortland library doesn’t always have the books I want to read, but they always get them within a week or so. Since I was really in the mood to read, and a few minutes early to pick Peyton up from school, I decided to wander around the library and see if any books wanted me to read them.

Strolling through the new releases, I nearly squealed (but I’ve been kicked out of the old Warren Public library enough times to know to keep quiet) when I saw Anne Lamott’s newest release, Small Victories. I did do a small and nearly imperceptible dance that probably could have been written off as a nervous er whole body twitch. Anne Lamott is my absolute FAVORITE writer. I had just requested this book and never dreamed it would be on the shelf in our tiny library. But of course it would be. The subtitle is: Spotting Improbable Moments of Grace. I got it. This time.

3. Still working on my thank you note–by hand. I won’t say who it is for because the person might be one of my 3 loyal readers. You’ll know if you get a card in the mail 🙂

In conclusion, my friends, Day 1 was fab-u-louso. Ate healthy food, did yoga with my dear sweet friend, and got some great books to read. Also, I don’t have a caffeine headache. That’s really remarkable. I would love to hear how you are doing on the fast, or if you have a really kick-a$$ recipe you’d want to share. Or if you also love Anne Lamott. Cause she’s awesome. Happy Monday; I’m grateful for you.

xoxo

Give a little Grace

I have been reading lately about healing and focusing on deep hurts that cause angry, defensive reactions. Because, I’m really ashamed to admit, I have a bad temper and sometimes have really disproportionate angry reactions to silly things.

For example, I burned my finger on a glue gun while making a banner. I curbed my initial reaction to scream obscenities. However, inside me this huge angry reaction was brewing that had to go somewhere. I picked up the end of the kitchen table and let it slam down. When the table slammed down, the anger released, but the plate that was holding the glue gun broke, and my tiny girlfriend started to cry.

Cue the guilt and shame tape that goes like this, “You’re an asshole. You can’t control your temper. You don’t deserve to have these sweet little kids; you’re a lunatic. Way to go. You’re just like your dad.”

And in about 25 seconds, I had gone from pain to rage to feeling about an inch tall.

I apologized to Lily and explained to her that I had reacted inappropriately to pain with anger, and I was sorry for scaring (and probably scarring) her. We talked about some times that our reactions didn’t exactly match our feelings or the particular situation and then finished making our craft without further incident.

For the rest of the night, shame gripped me pretty tightly. I had to delve into my reaction and the motivation behind it. Once I did that and realized that my reaction was something that had been ingrained in me from childhood–when you get upset about something let your rage out on an inanimate object–I was able to deal with it and remind myself that having a bad reaction didn’t make me a bad person.

Guilt and shame always go together for me–the dynamic duo of damnation–so I was enlightened to read Brene Brown’s definition in The Gifts of Imperfection. She explains that guilt says “You did something bad,” and shame says, “You are bad.” I still think they’re a terrifying team, but now I see them more clearly.

Brown goes on to say that we can steal the power away from this team if we talk about the stuff that makes us feel this way and bring it to light. Just make sure that you share with someone you really trust.

She gives a list of people you don’t want to choose, such as:

• Anyone who makes you feel worse about yourself. They will look at you with shock and judgment and say things like, “Oh…my.”
• One-uppers. You know them. They respond to everything with, “Oh that’s nothing, let me tell you about the time…”
• Those with low self-esteem who will use this as an opportunity to feel superior–think, drowning victims who push others down to get themselves to the surface. “Oh, I never have inappropriate reactions in front of my kids, but that’s just me.”
• Condescending jerks. Pretty much the same as above with a heightened air of superiority.

***Please note that sometimes jerks look and sound and act like friends until you share something like this with them***

So, my week has been a lot of, “Yikes, where did that come from? Why does it bother me when people do a.b.c.d?” and more. This isn’t a huge change. I’m always analyzing and overthinking and trying to do better, but sometimes it’s not in the actual moment. I’m steadily trying to live the Four Agreements, but it’s a lot of trial and error.

I spent many years feeling broken and damaged because of things that happened to me, but I am realizing in this decade* that labeling myself is not only unnecessary but it is also unkind. Yes, bad things happened to me, but really great things have happened too. By reconciling that I can simultaneously grieve loss and embrace blessings, by realizing that my past doesn’t define me, and by reminding myself that every moment is an opportunity to embrace and extend grace, I’ve cleared my path from lots of tangled roots that tripped me up.

A few weeks ago the super-wise 20-year-old guru I’m blessed to call my daughter said that she felt fortunate that her dad and I hadn’t really f#$%ed her up. We keep it really real. She said she always felt loved and free to express herself. This was such an impactful statement, as I have questioned everything I did as a mother for 20 years. In fact, the only thing I knew for sure was that I loved these little people God let me hold for awhile more than I had ever known was possible.

I’m pretty convinced some days that I’m messing Peyton and Lily up in some significant way. The nasty shrew in my head tells me all the time that I am worthless and have no business raising these amazing kids. I question myself all the time. And then I shhhhhhh them, breathe and keep going. I’m not sharing this because I need reassurance, but because someone else might feel the same. Do you? Let me encourage you: If you worry this much about what kind of person or wife or parent you are, I’m pretty confident that you are already amazing.

Give yourself some grace. And give the people who make different choices grace too. Namaste.

*The jury is still out on 40 because the emotional and spiritual rewards seem to come at the expense of some crazy things like thinning hair and brain fog and achy joints.

I’ll Do Better Next Time.

We got a hot tub a few weeks ago. It is perhaps my most favorite thing we have ever owned. Mostly because one of my most favorite things to do is nothing, as evidenced by my repeated pleas, “Can we just sit and BE?” My babies are antsy, though, so that is usually met with, “That’s BORING! Can’t we do something fun?”

There is not much you actually can do in a hot tub. Granted the kids manage to kick each other, splash, steal seats, turn off all the jets, make amazing light shows, play charades (the only mom-approved hot tub game), turn water bottles into guns and projectiles, and so forth. Occasionally, though, they sit and look at the stars or try to catch snowflakes on their tongues. Occasionally, they are able just to sit and be.

I treasure those rare moments.

When we were young and naive and had Chloe, every experience was new and fun. Parenthood was like being a kid in a candy store. Again with Peyton, even though we were older and more experienced, trucks and dirt and boy stuff was delightful in a whole new way. Now, I’ve mentioned a million times that Lily was a surprise baby. And despite my love for babies, I planned to love them from afar.

A funny thing happened though. Chloe grew up and moved away and taught me how fleeting childhood is. I am so grateful to have another little one. A couple more years of school parties, tooth fairies and Christmas magic. Chloe taught me how to be a mom. She was my guinea pig. I did so many things wrong and made so many mistakes, but she didn’t know because I was her only mom. One time I read somewhere that if you just love them enough…if you just love them enough it makes up for those mistakes. I think that’s true because she’s all grown up and she’s my best friend.

Course it could be that she’s super-forgiving, having secret intensive therapy, or writing a Mommie Dearest kind of tell-all. That’s cool too.

Anyway, I still make too many mistakes, but I believe that Peyton and Lily are blessed for the mistakes I made with Chloe. I believe all my kids are blessed for the mistakes my parents made. I believe that mistakes aren’t for making you feel guilty and inferior but for helping you learn. I believe in owning your mistakes–not just saying you’re sorry but meaning it and doing better.

It’s interesting when I consider how God answers my prayers. If I pray for patience, He gives me strife so I can learn…what? Patience. If I pray for strength, He guides me through difficult times and reminds me of the source of strength. When I pray for forgiveness, God shows me so many opportunities to give it.

As long as we are on this planet, we will make mistakes. People we love will make mistakes. Each time we have choices. Guilt or grace. Forgiveness or resentment. During this month of gratitude, I’m grateful for millions of mistakes and the opportunities they bring to do better.

Please don’t let me screw them up.

I overthink nearly every aspect of my life–mostly my mothering. It’s overwhelming and scary to have the ability to screw up three wonderful people God has placed in my really incapable hands. People have commented favorably on mine and Chloe’s relationship. And that both humbles and amazes me. I can’t take credit for our relationship; it is “but for the grace of God.” I mean, my whole life is, but Chloe who transitioned from my treasured baby to my very best friend; well, she is just a brilliant shining example of God’s grace in my life.

So brilliant that if I could hang up my mothering hat when she went to college, Brad Bell and I could exchange high fives and begin redecorating our empty nest. Alas, there are these other two children whose lives I can still potentially ruin.

I will readily admit, that I think I’m a better girl mom. I like to shop and do makeup and girly stuff. I don’t dislike sports, but I will pick Cosmo over Sports Illustrated any day, and unless the Buckeyes are playing, I’m probably reading rather than watching the game. But, I love my son very much. So much so that in this awkward tween phase where he doesn’t cuddle as much or share as many secrets or kiss me on the face anymore, sometimes I sneak into his room a few minutes before he has to get up just so I can snuggle with him and kiss his head. I guess that’s kind of a creepy stalker move, but I do it anyway. 

It’s just that we don’t enjoy a lot of the same things. I treasure our shared interests and am always trying to cultivate more. I love watching him play every sport, but if he had to choose someone to hang with, it would be Daddy. And that’s okay. Brad is a really good dad, and in many ways, he gets to be the kind of dad to P that he always wanted. Plus, sometimes they are each other’s only refuge in this house full of hormones and hairspray.

Then there’s Lily. If I’m gonna screw up any of them, it will be her. She is so much like me it is simultaneously amazing and infuriating. I cannot point out one of her flaws without reprimanding myself in the same breath. I mean, I do, but to be fair and honest, I have to put myself in check at the same time because she learned each bad behavior somewhere, and Brad rarely screams and I don’t know if I’ve ever seen him throw a tantrum.

Still, there she is, the baby that I didn’t want (we planned for two kids: one boy and one girl) and never expected–the child who pushes me to the edge of sanity on a daily basis. She has taught me more about myself in six short years than I learned in nearly 40 on my own.

So as I ponder 2012’s blessings and trials, I think about what each of these children taught me. Chloe taught me unconditional love. You know, the kind of love you don’t even realize you are capable of feeling until your whole heart has been pulled from your body and is curled up on your chest. She inspires me not only to be a better mother, but also to be a better person, as I pray to live up to the image she has of me. P taught me joy, and he delights me on a daily basis with his sweet spirit and caring compassionate heart. I pray we raise him into a great man, husband, and father. Lily has taught me to let go of my plans and give in to God’s will. She is full of fire and passion, and I pray I can guide her to use her powers for good rather than evil.

I pray every day to be the mom each of them needs. I pray that God helps me guide them in the direction He has planned for their lives. I pray that I don’t saddle them with any of my own insecurities and flaws and shortcomings. I pray that I don’t screw them up.