finding forgiveness
November 6, 2012 § Leave a comment
Like a pebble in my shoe, life’s joys have rattled the painful pieces free. Old harms are dusty memories tucked away in a past cluttered by the passing of years.
I used to wrestle with forgiveness, grasping for a sense of closure as I mapped a path towards peace. I could list the harm, write letters intimately naming the transgressions against me. Then, one day, a question that would have previously tugged at sorrow or ruffled anger found an empty place. Echos of words that once cast long shadows over bright moments no longer consumed enough of my heart or mind for their darkness to shade my joy. Forgiveness was something found not made.
I am holding tightly to this discovery as I make my way through uncomfortable emotions. As the holidays approach anxiety for the strain of difficult company tugs at my patience and I am breathing deeply, intentionally inviting hope and peace among uncertainty and frustration, embracing my newfound awareness that this too shall pass.
to my son
November 2, 2012 § Leave a comment
Sometimes we hide our potential behind excuses, creating a safe haven from failure. Unfortunately this also shields us from success. Recently there have been concerns between home and school that you are hiding your potential behind excuses, distorting your success and failure with avoidance.
Last night I included you in parent-teacher conferences wanting to permit you the experience of owning your performance as a student. Moving from teacher to teacher I uncovered unique pieces of your day at school. For every occasion I have questioned your place in mainstream, public education this experience shaped a new gratitude for the gifts of diversity. Each teacher greeted you in a way that spoke volumes about their teaching style and your relationship; our time together a window into their classrooms.
Your Science teacher engages you and redirects you with humor and questions. She does this effortlessly, moving seamlessly between guiding and challenging. In turn you met questions with answers, matched humor for humor in a dance that tells me you are natural partners. You don’t know that your teacher is leading, in fact I would bet you feel quite in control as you move backwards and sideways in reaction to quiet instruction.
Your Math teacher is direct, you are evading her with arguments and requests that are impossible to avoid – working twice as hard to avoid tasks as you would have to work to succeed. I am certain you will soon be tired of dodging directions and nestle begrudgingly into routine expectations. I am a struggling math student, but well read in the mannerisms of your very experienced teacher.
Social Studies is a source of joy. I do not need to see your class work to know this. Your teacher exudes calm, quiet confidence in you as a student, enthusiasm for her subject, and joy for the act of teaching. You are learning as easily as you breath, unaware that despite your distractions you are drawn to your teacher’s peaceful approach. She is mothering you towards independence within her classroom, creating lessons that reach far outside your time together.
Your English teacher wears her heart on her sleeve. You are greedily gathering her compassion like a hungry child stuffing cookies in their pocket. This class is your greatest nemesis for the act of writing, but if you would only set aside this battle with yourself this outlet for creativity would easily be a place of growth. Your teacher is fascinated, your gift of language exists despite your denial, it is time to embrace this strength you do not claim.
World Cultures is a place of friendship. This is the teacher you approach as an equal. Perhaps this is because your teacher is a man and you share a friend in your former aide, but the casual greeting and easy handshake tells me he has earned your respect. It is time to honor that respect with effort, excuses contradict respect.
I am not sure you will read this until much later, but each of these individuals have gifted us a year of unique strengths. I have never been more excited for the challenges waiting for you in the classroom or for the lessons these experiences will lend you in your lifetime.
Love, Mom
paper play
October 29, 2012 § Leave a comment
Saturday evening my daughter requested a cardboard box. Putting our dinner reservations on hold my husband humored our daughter by unearthing a recycled box and reconfiguring it from its flattened form back into a rectangle capturing potential between taped together folds. The assembled box was then quickly cut with long slits on each side and the bottom per our daughter’s instructions. We left for dinner as our daughter scurried off box in tow.
Long after our meal was finished and the credits to our movie had ended we peeked into our daughter’s room. Resting on her desk chair was a puppet theater. Long strips of lined notebook paper carefully tapped together and fed through the slits in her cardboard box told a story in pencil sketches, each end rolled around taped together toy silverware from her play kitchen to create rods. On the floor beneath her chair colorful paper alien creatures were taped to colored pencils.
Scraps of paper and bits of clear tape littered her work space, but my eyes and heart were measuring a gift of nothing – a box made into a vessel of imagination.
can & cannot
October 25, 2012 § 4 Comments
This week my daughter asked her peers for help spelling a word; aware she often twists her letters out of order and wanting to feel more certain she asked those she trusted for help. Instead of supplying the answer to her question, they judged her for not knowing; laughing and measuring her abilities loudly and unkindly as a group. With honesty and vulnerability my daughter shared this moment from her school day; a lone tear and prideful posture tugged at my heart, but rather than allow my daughter to nestle in a place of Cannot I guided her towards a faith in Can. I acknowledged her feelings then quickly discussed our alternatives for handling moments of harm. As some of her peers move more quickly towards new abilities my daughter must be prepared to practice self-compassion for her weaknesses in the same measure I would ask her to exercise humility for her strengths. Rather than ask others to be more sensitive to what she cannot do I asked my daughter to begin always with what she can do; approaching each moment from a place of strength. Admit openly what you cannot control and insist on kindness. Allow yourself your emotions, but do not let them undermine your ability to move forward. Never, ever measure your worth against others’ abilities or judgment. Then I spelled the word that had created the opportunity for our discussion: G-I-R-L.
in translation
October 23, 2012 § 2 Comments
Speech therapy has been a part of my children’s days and our family vocabulary for the length of their academic experience, beginning in preschool. Their challenges are as unique as their personalities. My son’s needs center around sound. My daughter works to structure her thoughts from jumbled fragments into linear, ordered statements. I can tell you that while I support their efforts to develop these skills for successful lives as adults, I find these imperfections endearing.
Monopoly in my son’s mouth becomes mono-poly, the break in the middle of the word creating a new name that never fails to make me smile. Despite errors in articulation, his vocabulary is rich with words that drip descriptive details. This weekend he was parched and I was smitten. Declarations of misery are well received for the language he weaves into his tirade. When a sound interferes with my comprehension, he spells the word out loud for clarification – adding the injustice of the interruption to his frustrations.
My daughter’s sounds ring clear as a bell, tinkling with an artistic arrangement of thought. She is our Yoda, her sentences often rearranged so that the end is her beginning. Errors in tense create expressions like last night ago or sit be next to me, old favorites now retired from her speech. In moments when words escape my daughter and she is intent on sharing a specific thought she will gather the facts into form providing a visual. For example, when I cut my long hair into a chin length bob she happily reported to others that I had cut my back hair.
My son continues to sharpen his sounds while my daughter shuffles her thoughts into order. I am enjoying the growing ease of communication while holding tightly to happy errors of expression. Most recently my daughter approached me eager for help as she practices writing in cursive. With big blue eyes, serious and determined, she asked if I might teach her to curse. The small slip a playful, albeit unintentional, pun. For me each unique uttering is a memory contrasting innocence with translated intent in the language of my children’s childhood.
in focus
October 22, 2012 § Leave a comment
Yesterday, on a beautiful fall day in the company of a dear friend, I endeavored to capture a moment from my family’s present for all our days to come with a series of photographs. Walking under a blue sky along tree lined paths I forgot so many of the things I had intended to remember, collections of images I wanted for my walls. Instead I found hidden blessings in temporary challenges, the imperfect moments between photographs lending perspective.
From the very beginning my son’s preteen mumblings felt like a wet, wool blanket chafing our nerves and suffocating smiles. In the moment I wanted for him to tuck his discontent aside and find his peaceful place in our company. Only later could I give thanks that I can hear his temperamental testimonies to life’s transgressions against him. In sharing his anger and hurt, our son is talking to us, challenging us, reaching out towards the very people who love him. I miss the ease of his early years, but I recognize the growth unfolding in difficult lessons as he stakes his independence.
While our son pushed away, our daughter charted her own course. These past few years challenges have made her hesitant, uncertain. She tends to hide from cameras while ironically inside the camera’s lens doubts fall behind her, leaving only room enough for the most genuine pieces of her spirit. Mischief and wonder, joy and love are weighted in eyes unblinking. I gather these pieces so that they may peek from corners of our home, reassuring my daughter of unspoken strengths.
When Grouchy and Mischievous uncovered fallen sticks beneath golden leaves a duel was inevitable. The flash of humor behind the challenge an unmistakable acknowledgment of an ongoing power struggle between siblings. Each clash of their wills echoed a hidden message, despite the appearance of conflict there is a safe space between them.
My husband and I lost to our son’s moods and our daughter’s whim wanted an easy togetherness that evaded us between glorious shades of autumn. Instead we were reminded that experiences are not always simple, often contentment hides beneath a messy unrest. Unscripted and unedited our lessons are wrapped within challenges that are sometimes out of focus. And always, even on the most difficult days, our family are those who see us at our most imperfect, loving us unconditionally for our best.
giving voice
October 20, 2012 § Leave a comment
I am a nervous speaker, an impossible blush and a wavering voice betray false confidence while racing heartbeats chase my words into self-doubt. Conscious of this personal Achilles’ heel I shy away from commitments that push me into the forefront of a conversation among strangers. This year I joined a committee lead by an administrator and composed of parents across our school district eager to learn more about a change stretching from elementary to middle school classrooms. I imagined gathering notes, pencil to paper, only to find myself raising a hand to lend questions and comments to a new discussion; stretching my comfort zone in an effort to give voice to my hopes, uncertainties, and experiences as a parent in our district.
Our first meeting I created a place of quiet comfort, intrigued by differing perspectives I spent most of that first hour gathering information. It was only at the last moment when another’s comment prompted me to lend a voice of experience which contradicted expectations that I spoke up, my words fragmented among my nerves held together by conviction. We were discussing the application of Standards Based Grading in theory, but my son was a student during a testing phase and our experience was riddled with errors in application that bred doubt in a system I would otherwise embrace. Here, with the weight of experience, I tip toed closer to the discussion hoping my voice would lend awareness to potential challenges. In a system designed to make certain students are meeting academic standards, the standards for measuring student knowledge must be consistent among teachers.
This past week, as we reconvened in a circle of strangers each vested in the education of our children, our company expanded to include familiar faces. Grateful for the reassurance of friends I borrowed strength from their kindness and waded further into the conversation. As we contrasted the traditional letter grades against a system expected to lend a more honest snapshot of individual student performance I was struck by a greater personal concern: how we nurture learning.
The statistics that were intended to demonstrate the inflated measure of traditional grades by highlighting the failure of A students in college raised greater concerns for me as a parent: how students face challenges, learn independently, and take accountability for their education as young learners in preparation for future experiences.
I am still learning how this new grading system will enhance my children’s experiences as learners, balancing our school’s decisions with my values as a parent. I will continue to raise my children with an expectation that they greet each experience with a willingness to learn that embraces failure as an opportunity to grow and education as something that extends beyond structured lessons to encompass individual curiosity. I want my children to be accountable for knowledge above grades and effort beyond measurement. Still I am immeasurably grateful for my place in this new conversation as I challenge my own limits to give voice to a subject close to my heart.
en route
October 17, 2012 § Leave a comment
My days have become a little busier as I stretch my calendar to include new commitments in an effort to embrace opportunities to grow. In these busier moments I have found a wealth of connection hidden in the overlooked minutes en route from here to there. Conversation fills the space of my car that music otherwise inhabits, my children’s inhibitions tucked just outside the perspective of my rearview mirror. Thoughts and concerns, questions and anecdotes, fears and hopes tumble like loose change from our pockets. Minutes of fragmented sentiments lend me segways to larger conversations another time. The unplanned space between commitments have become a piece of an unending dialogue that links each of us in simple, uncomplicated sharings.
for the love of a book
October 16, 2012 § Leave a comment
My morning was graced by the company of young readers; a patchwork of stories beautifully different woven together. Quietly in a corner of my daughter’s school I listened for fleeting moments while young readers gathered me into their favorite books, pulling the words from the page cautiously and joyfully one by one. Perched on a miniature chair, in a sunlight nook of the hallway I was profoundly moved by the simple gift of sharing a story in the timeless, ageless act of reading together.
remember me
October 14, 2012 § Leave a comment
The convenience of social networking has created a web of nostalgia that stretches old memories into relationships. We become friends, anew. This curious affection born of the past and strewn so delicately amid the details of our days suggests that it is not another’s affirmation we seek, but pieces of ourselves.
This experience of gathering the old among the new has gifted me forgotten memories and misplaced friendships. In the time between passing notes in high school hallways and parenting school age children I wandered from the familiar territory of childhood friendships, loosing little landmarks of self. I have rediscovered these treasures in letters that travel over time.
Some friendships slipped naturally into the fabric of my days, others I visited, some remain relegated to the past. In each discovery I find little truths that resonate with a clarity that reverberates over the years.
Still there exists a beautiful distortion of self in this web of memories. I remember you a precursor to exaggerated flattery. Let’s remember one another as we were, allowing for adolescent awkwardness. When our paths cross I want to laugh at my own mistakes and celebrate the journey that has made me who I am. Like tiny scars from old lessons, I am comfortable with the past. The contrast of old dreams and growing pains makes the present more beautiful for the truth of the journey.
scribblechic 