coffee confession
September 30, 2015 § 2 Comments
I have a complicated love affair with coffee. We met during the sleepiest days of my second child’s infancy; it was a time of adjustments and worries, early mornings and divided attention. I was muscling through hard parts of beautiful days, tired and a little lost.
It was during a holiday outing, a girls’ night of window shopping, in stores draped with carols and punctuated with evergreens that I first resigned myself to a curious desperation. My order was a confection of sugar, anything to mask the coffee I was unaccustomed to.
That evening I was intoxicated by the energy my indulgence afforded me. In the months to come it would evolve from an occasional treat to a necessary routine. The word coffee became an excuse; a reward for special accomplishments, courage on difficult days, an entitlement and a distraction.
I sustained this level of need for over a decade. My greed accompanied me on family vacations and school meetings, quiet mornings and busy evenings. In the winter I accessorized after school pick-up with a warm beverage and in the summer my habit was accommodatingly cool.
Where once I wouldn’t have been tempted to sample coffee, I was rarely without my clutch. Until this fall. My routines disrupted, I fell out of habit in my excuses. The only coffee I drank was served at a table, in a thick oversized mug that seemed sweeter for the length of time it required to consume it.
In this moment I indulged less for the assumption of energy and more for the gentler experience of pleasure as stillness. I recognized contentment in the unhurried peace and no longer craved the mad rush of frenzied busyness that blurred empty distractions.
My responsibilities and worries have not changed, but I have become calmer and less frivolous in my indulgence; practicing a greater mindfulness and moderation in moments of more intentional habits.
introductions
September 29, 2015 § Leave a comment
Today we met a new therapist, someone to replace the doctor who first outlined the invisible needs of our children’s well-being. It is a unique part of our story, a professional advisor to everyday details. Someone to document the challenges and prescribe care, monitor progress and offer perspective.
I procrastinated change, cautious in my commitment to someone new. Personal recommendations and professional qualifications were balanced by simpler considerations like convenience of hours and the practicality of location. For all my care, the greatest measure of compatibility was the character of a thoughtful listener.
I was a quiet guest to my children’s introductions. I had expected dry, medical questions to flush out diagnoses and personal history, but I was rewarded with a casual conversation sprinkled with humor and reflection.
Intentionally and insightfully, each child identified themselves by defining their relationships and outlining past experiences. I marveled at the grace and maturity of their language as they shaded questions with patient answers.
They did not pretend away difficult memories under the guise of a false ideal or exaggerate details. They were genuine and accountable in their acknowledgment of personal weaknesses and strengths, open and trusting in their welcoming.
I was proud, not for the ease of their answers, but for the sincerity of self. My son’s humor and philosophical rambling. My daughter’s storytelling and mischievous smile.
At the end of our time I was pleased to note that we had stumbled into a safe sharing with a kind stranger and thoughtful professional. More importantly, I recognized my children already possess a place to rest worries and honor complicated experiences, celebrate our past and dream out loud.
Listening to my children I realized we’ve become closer in our shared displacement, more confidant of one another and gentler in our company.
Despite all my worries and imperfect days, we’re ok.
trick of light
September 29, 2015 § Leave a comment
Science will explain prisms with logic and light, but I prefer a bit of mysticism. The innocent sense of awe and admiration that something unassuming can gather white light into a spectrum of beauty.
This is my morning, little miracles of perspective; small moments of beauty conjured from fragments of nothing. The smell of warm laundry bundled in my arms, neatly stacked piles of clean dishes settled in want of a meal, a cool breeze and fat raindrops as I watch our pup chase the perimeter of her yard. Separately they offer fleeting glimpses of beauty, but collectively they create an atmosphere of possibility.
Here I sit, a quiet house and full heart, poised on the precipice of the day to come; cloaked in wonder for an expectation of something spectacular among the otherwise mundane.
green & gold
September 28, 2015 § 2 Comments
This morning was my daughter’s first morning at the bus stop. We waited together in the early morning quiet, the grass around us still kissed with dew and sticking to our feet.
It is a small change to a still new routine with curious discoveries. The neighbors we have not yet seen as they stirred from their homes and the sounds of the street as it woke to the day’s activity.
We hesitated, uncertain of our placement, as we watched the street for a hint as to the direction the bus might appear. When the yellow arch crested the hill, we delighted in a run to the other side.
Even in the fleeting displacement, our disorientation in an unfamiliar routine, there were smiles enough to chase away the awkwardness of our clumsiness.
This is the beauty in standing still with someone you love; mindfulness allows us to catalogue discoveries we might otherwise deem unexceptional. For a moment, we were adventurers in a work of art; saturated greens and brilliant yellow. Smiles that sounded like bells against the quiet.
A sweet moment on an ordinary day made exceptional, everyday magic.
homecoming
September 27, 2015 § 2 Comments
For our children it was a week of school celebrations; traditional fall festivities in a place only newly home. Football games and formal dances without the comradery of old friendships and familiar colors. By Friday it was tempting to toss ourselves into the frenzy of other people’s enthusiasm, to assimilate into an expectation of good cheer for the sake of belonging.
Except the act of pretending demanded an energy we did not possess. Our daughter was homesick, our son disinterested, my husband and I were exhausted.
Sometimes we muscle through the difficult days, demanding joy, but Friday it was peace we sought. Everyone else’s noise had reminded us of a quieter absence and we found comfort in our shared contentment with a simpler experience of our new community.
We skipped the formalities of a high school dance for outdoor music at our local farmer’s market; the colors of our new school for the kaleidoscope of flowers bundled into humble bouquets. Here, among strangers, we belonged for the sheer serendipity of our experiences.
A beautiful fall day with small children and large dogs, warm food and cool drinks. Colors that threaded the bustle with a harmonious cacophony of lazy busyness.
We gave ourselves permission to belong only to the moment. There will be other games and new friends, community events and school celebrations, but this weekend was an exercise in coming home.
truth & trust
September 27, 2015 § 2 Comments
Over the past week my husband and I have navigated complicated conversations with legal counsel. It has been emotionally exhausting, this necessary madness, as we protect ourselves against false accusations and unethical manipulations of those we endeavored to honor as family.
For years I’ve attempted to speak in generalities out of respect for the privacy of those I felt a burden of obligation, to preserve whatever legacy of belonging I might will my children in the absence of memories. This week I buried whatever hope remained.
Phone calls from family friends cautioning threats and legal counsel advising us in our employment against personal accusations. Words and deeds that cannot be so quietly swept among the skeletons we guard.
I understand the illness that has fed the spiral into such demonstrations of contempt and gestures of control, but even tolerance and empathy cannot sustain so many assaults against truth.
It would be easy to name each lie, to shame those who act with little regard for truth. I’m choosing instead to trust right over wrong; holding the written evidence of others’ untruths for a different legacy. Stealing myself for peace and preserving integrity against those who trespass love in the name of family.
Truth is a patient witness, trust a tender guide.
ups & downs
September 24, 2015 § Leave a comment
If I were on a high this afternoon from last night’s homework endeavor, I was soon to discover the balance of the Universe in a humbling exercise in helplessness. My mind contentedly and completely absorbed with my daughter’s confidence, I wasn’t anticipating the sad eyes that met mine at the end-of-day dismissal; the slow walk to my car or the heavy sigh into a chin up, crocodile tears heartbreak.
My daughter’s new school organizes a service club that empowers children to serve as ambassadors to other new students. It is a position my daughter coveted for the chance to translate her experiences this fall for the benefit of other new students in the year to come. From the moment her application came home, she was already outlining how she might help; cataloguing her expertise and projecting purpose.
For the past week she’s talked herself into certainty with the same confidence that lead her to assign herself a more challenging math assignment. Today’s form letter declining her application was a humbling disappointment.
There were, however, a few beautiful moments I want to salvage from the loss.
To my daughter,
The sweetest part of your disappointment today was your sensitivity to language. That you felt “crushing” news was worthy of a more personal communication says something of your respect for others and sense of empathy. I hope you always recognize the value in handwritten notes and direct conversations.
You cried openly, allowing yourself to indulge in an honest acknowledgment of a difficult loss, but you also accepted as a new student those teachers or administrators who made the final selection did not know you well enough to judge your character or ability. Here you resisted the temptation to let failure define you.
These may seem like small observations, but they acknowledge an awareness beyond your years. In a moment of disappointment you weren’t pointing fingers or placing blame, but rather using the experience to grow. Learning in a way you might not have if you had found an easier success.
There’s something else. I owe you an apology; I didn’t have enough faith in your strength.
When you applied, I was tempted to stack the deck; to beg someone to offer you a safe place to shine. I knew you would be an ideal ambassador and I felt confident the experience would help you navigate your transition to a new community. I didn’t, but I dearly wanted to.
Your father and I agreed that helping you in this way would be cheating and, worse, would undermine any certainty that you could have earned this accomplishment independent of my meddling good intentions. This afternoon I was tempted again to fix your disappointment, to orchestrate success with a last minute interference.
It is so much easier watching you smile, than standing helplessly while you hurt. There was nothing to do but listen as you sounded out your emotions.
Know this: you would have been a wonderful ambassador, but you are an exceptional individual. I’m sorry for your disappointment, but I’m so proud of your heart. I hope you dream a new goal with the same courage.
Love, Mom
choosing confidence
September 24, 2015 § 2 Comments
Last night my daughter proudly brandished her homework. Eye’s ablaze she waved her math worksheet in the air, declaring: “We got to choose our homework, Mom. Guess what I chose?”
There were two worksheets available, one for children still mastering a skill and another for those who needed a challenge. One choice offered comfort, another offered struggle. She chose the challenge; confidently and passionately, eagerly and fearlessly.
For years my daughter has struggled to catch up to her peers, to sit among them as an equal academically. Here, in our new home, she is racing towards a new expectation of learning with a deeper understanding of self; a greater appreciation for error and earned accomplishment.
She’s taking chances and making mistakes; accepting the risk of error at the cost of success. There’s something remarkable about watching your child race recklessly toward the harder path. Last night there was a fierceness in the posture of her pencil and the angle of her attention.
Life does not always offer a choice in our challenges, but we are ever able to meet each uncertainty with a spirit of confidence.
Sweet Girl, I’m a student of your wisdom, a champion of your courage. Love, Mom
endings & beginnings
September 23, 2015 § Leave a comment
We made this move for a better life, to break the pattern of abusive behaviors that cycled through generations of family. Greed, narcissism, and substance abuse rattled around a closet of disheveled secrets. We honored the cost of these unhappy truths with tolerance and familial obligation; countless holidays and unexceptional calendar days marred by unwelcome guests.
Sixteen years we deferred our joy to the whim of our elders. We made excuses for poor behavior until our children outgrew our explanations; until no amount of love could mend a legacy of illness. The lessons we had fashioned for our children were not of tolerance, but of enabling over self-worth.
Somewhere along the way our empathy for the toxic spiral into manic behavior had betrayed a greater responsibility to a message of mutual respect. In our home everyone has the right to be loved and the responsibility to act with accountability. Period.
These boundaries have become red flags of aggression, a challenge to those who cannot yet see the tragedy of their behavior or hear our plea for peace. Aggressively we have been pelted with financial and emotional manipulations. It is a sad tragedy that has informed a new ending.
It is also a beginning. We carry the scars of the past with a tender mindfulness for the mistakes we dare not recreate for our children; a future informed by hope, a greater consciousness for a cycle that ends at the place we left.
what if
September 22, 2015 § 3 Comments
Today, after school, my son was struggling with anxiety over a classroom exercise. Worried about potential failure he began designing the image of his demise with thoughtful statements of inability. Articulately he outlined the likelihood of error.
Then, his little sister interrupted his thoughts with a simpler possibility: What if tomorrow is your lucky day and nothing goes wrong?
It’s a funny thing the way our minds invite the worst before we court luck. Tonight I’m thinking of the places where I anticipate failure and where I might exercise greater expectation of success.
