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.
blame & burden
September 22, 2015 § Leave a comment
I try to allow for a personal frailty in error when I speak in decisive judgments, to invite humility to each certainty. When someone I love is tethered to someone I do not respect, I look for the fault in my conviction; to search beyond the harm for the individual. I want to believe we are all greater than our mistakes.
Today I realized someone I admire is tethered to someone I cannot seem to forgive for an unkindness against my child. It is an old wound, one irrelevant for the distance in time and space from the moment of injury. Still I have carried my judgment without space for the possibility of their remorse.
We do the best we can in each moment with the skills and patience at our disposal. Today I’m wondering if the greater tragedy is to limit our faith in other’s to the boundaries of our experiences. I’m looking for space to trust; to see the complexities of another’s error in the light of a kinder judgment.
farm & home
September 19, 2015 § Leave a comment
In seeking out furniture, hardware, and lighting elements for our home, I’ve noticed a trend towards farmhouse decor; rustic elements contrasted against a more urban setting. A space weathered by the elements that perseveres against storms and drought. Materials that sustain over time with a craftsmanship that speaks to care. Intentionally imperfect pieces that allow for signs of wear.
Barn doors, reclaimed wood, salvaged hardware all claim a passion for stories and history, a value in repurpose over more disposable investments. I want to anchor my home in the same dreams and determination that these pieces acknowledge and inspire with thoughtful nods to a quieter appreciation for beauty in resilience and hope.
I won’t pretend a lifestyle that isn’t genuine, but I think there is something comforting in the weight of these elements. An elegance in unruffled attention and purposeful details. Something I sometimes overlook in clean lines and vacant surfaces.
lost words
September 18, 2015 § Leave a comment
There have been days a word eludes me, I feel the shape of its meaning and the taste of its letters on my tongue, but there is no sound. It has become, perhaps, my greatest fear; the loss of words that have so long been my companions.
I wonder in these moments of panicked clarity at what I might not say; if words like memories can disappear, might I lose myself in their silence?
Then, as if one fear invites another, I begin to sound out forgotten memories for the texture of my past. Years and words like sharp consonants and long vowels giving shape to self in defiance of silence.
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