unpacking the holidays
November 27, 2012 § 1 Comment
Beloved nutcrackers stand sentry and holiday picture books gather well-turned pages for quiet moments ahead. A space has been cleared as we introduce our tree to our home and ornaments nestled in tissue wait to unravel a story of Christmases past. With talisman of joy weighting our home in anticipation for holiday traditions it seems impossible that my head and heart can feel heavy with frustration.
As I tenderly unpack holiday decorations the season deposits emotional baggage to sort and stow. We welcome personalities into our home out of obligation and borrow patience in trade for peace. Loud and all consuming these voices of expectation take greedily without thought for the unrest they cause.
This year as I make my holiday wishes I am sending a silent prayer for a small miracle of my own, somewhere in the soft glow of innumerable white lights I am hoping for tranquility in the company of those whose love fill my days with gratitude for faith in kindness, gifts unseen, and love unending.
possible
November 19, 2012 § 2 Comments
Just before the elementary school bell signaled the end of the day my son and I popped in to the office for a quick errand. As I shuffled my papers into a staff mailbox my son scribbled a note and then gifted it to a child neither of us know sitting on a bench nearby. Peering over the boy’s shoulder I read: Anything is possible.
For all my well choreographed lessons in motherhood, the unscripted lessons I learn from my children are those that humble and inspire me.
framed
November 19, 2012 § Leave a comment
This weekend my husband and I collected frames and photographs for an overdue project. Years after we stripped our walls, slowly crafting my husband’s childhood home into our own, we weighed the same walls with memories. Mismatched frames and snapshots of our life together are now nestled near the dining room table. Walking through our front door, working in the kitchen, and passing from the stairway or garage I can peek at my favorite smiles, centering myself in gratitude and joy for my greatest blessings. It is a moment of homecoming and thanksgiving, just in time for the holidays.
disconnected
November 18, 2012 § Leave a comment
Yesterday morning I found a voice of humor and gratitude missing from my social network feed. The absence of this personality created a hollow echo that rattled around bumping up against empty statements. What was once an opportunity to connect with friends and family conveniently in the busyness of everyday life had become a measuring stick defining moments of self.
From the beginning I was cautious to contain my friends to family, a handful of friends from my childhood and college, along with mothers whose serendipitous presence in my life grounds me in a community of nurturers; those who share memories and know the sound of my laugh. I loved catching glimpses of my cousin’s daughters or the discovery of a dear friend with whom I had lost touch, casting quick hellos across the miles.
There were other statements I could not unread, strategically coded declarations by friends at odds, extravagant oversharings, and unnecessary updates. I too had created a sense of self with irrelevant facts: what we eat, where we are, what we do and between the lines – who we are, wish we were, or used to be.
This was my weakness, discerning statements of self from word play. Contrasting my days against other’s images and accomplishments there was an element of insecurity for the absence of Rockwellian images in photographs and prose to narrate my story and a presumed pressure to respond to others’ statements leaving my words forced and false for the pretense.
In this light I have taken a step back. Stripped of my likes and status all that remains are a freckling of images and an abbreviated collection of family and friends with whom I am unprepared to say goodbye. Years of fragmented sharings have been set aside like pages in an unopened album. Instead, I am embracing this season of Thanksgiving to acknowledge those whose presence in my life are a blessing and transitioning from online exchanges to a more intimate practice of handwritten holiday greetings.
I am gathering addresses and weighing my words, attempting to let go of one experience for another. For now my account sits bare uncertain of the next step as I balance limiting my account to family or keeping the door open for a change of heart.
unassigned
November 13, 2012 § Leave a comment
Tonight our family dining table was littered with assignments unattended while both children poured over a science text book. My son and daughter’s foreheads rested gently against one another as they uncovered new concepts – reading aloud and exclaiming over their discoveries with each turn of the page. Their minds full of material unrelated to what they must do before morning they eagerly, enthusiastically explored new ideas. A moment of unorchestrated friendship and child-led learning untethered by expectations or interference. I dared not blink for fear of disrupting the moment and breaking the spell.
character sketch
November 12, 2012 § 2 Comments
Some days I draw my expectations in shades too dark to invite error. Recently I have more consciously created opportunities for my son to draft his own experiences – the juxtaposition of the man I see growing in the child before me in contrast with my son’s choices. Mistakes loom around corners so visibly I am tempted to tug on the hand that once held mine and pull him from harm’s way.
A preteen age of false bravado and boisterous proclamations of independence have drawn new boundaries, my son is mapping himself in broad statements as he postures presumptuously. Despite his best efforts to demonstrate wisdom and strength, I see a little boy playing at being grown. Each error in judgment a skinned knee, a small badge of pride as he finds his strength in moments of weakness.
My daughter, four years her brother’s junior, mirrors her brother’s eagerness to be cast as capable. Here my children are divided by effort and ability. One is blessed with natural gifts that rest unused, neglected with assumption and entitlement. The other steps around challenges eager to keep pace.
I am learning as deeply as I am guiding. As my children grow into their dreams I am rapt with uncertainty and hope for these characters whose stories fill my days.
bare
November 8, 2012 § 4 Comments
The weather has turned cool stealing my breath and leaving my thoughts unfinished. I feel bare, sensitive to the emotions of those I love most. This week we have navigated our days consumed by deadlines, worries, and expectations; needs pulling at our time while stacking invisible weights on our shoulders. Hunched over, walking forcefully against discomfort there is little warmth as we draw ourselves smaller against our distractions. I am eager for the weekend that I might draw out the happy souls that fill our home with curiosity and humor better to cloak myself in their warmth.
sweet lesson
November 7, 2012 § 4 Comments
My son’s head is full of abstract thoughts, challenging ideas chasing through his mind’s eye pushing practical exercises in logic just out of reach. He also possesses an insatiable sweet tooth. Recently my son has been sneaking the subject of brownies into conversations, tiny pleas strung together until collectively they created an insistent nagging. Yesterday morning I handed my son a box of brownie mix suggesting he take a break from the task at hand to make a treat.
Moments into the endeavor he began pelting me with fragmented questions: What should I use? Where should I put this? How long should I stir, mix, bake? Questions and mumbling clanking noisily, like the mismatched instruments he employed. Watching bemused from behind my book, I finally set down my reading and said simply, “Worst case scenario the brownies don’t turn out. You’re a smart kid with great ideas, look outside the box.” He continued to look at the pieces without reading the clearly outlined instructions resting face up on our counter. I waited patiently and curiously gauging his progress without interference.
An hour later the house was filled with the smell of warm brownies, more importantly my son had stumbled successfully through a concrete exercise in problem solving. In a perfect world he might have created brownies from an assortment of ingredients scattered in cabinets rather than a store-bought short cut. The greater lesson was in trying. There was a definable need, an attainable goal, a gooey middle muddled with controlled chaos. In the end, he did it – from creating to cleaning he had found his way. The reward was sweet, the lesson sweeter.
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
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