Changing Form

I am somewhat surprised, at 51 years of age, to find myself in a forming stage of life.  Growing up, I thought you became an adult and you "were something" -- a teacher, a missionary, a parent, whatever -- and that was it.  I have been many "somethings" and also had a few jobs that were more about my bills than about my path.

When I was a child, I frequently heard myself characterized as a "late bloomer."  That was a source of shame for me then, but now I embrace it.  I hope I never stop "blooming."  I met my soul mate, Paul, at age 36.  I was 37 when I became a mom for the first time.  And at 51, we started a whole new branch of the family.  This suits, me somehow.  I am comfortable in my skin and at this stage of life; I know what fits.

It reminds me of working with clay.  There is something so wholesome and earthy about it. It's sensuous -- and not in a corny, Ghost, sort of way.  The clay at first is in a slab, cold and unyielding.  The initial task is to warm it up with your hands; to soften it and make it pliable.  This takes some time and patience; some kneading, some faith.

Only after the clay is worked and warm can a new creation emerge. What is created is not always what I expected.  And it rarely, if ever, looks like I thought it would.  Yet it is always true to its nature.  Somehow it is exactly what it is "supposed" to be and exactly right.

The stress in my life comes in when I forget that I am in a forming phase.  In clearer moments, I understand that  "the forming phase" is every phase.  When I am willing to allow my life's circumstances and yes -- grace -- to do the shaping, then I am wholly me.  And something completely new can take shape.

Saving Face on Facebook

 Sometimes I entertain myself by doing silly stuff on Facebook, like yesterday's My Year in Status - 2010 in Review.  It's pink, it's pretty, it's bright  -- and it's pretty much the good stuff.  And yet, as I reviewed, I noticed there were tears running down my face. 

The tears were about what the status' didn't say.  All the work and processes and downright sh**ty days.  The doldrums.  The endless rain.  The searing heat.  And the elation as well; the little moments that I will remember forever.  The evidence is in -- I save face on Facebook. 

I hit the books to discover what the tears were saying; the processing books -- that is -- and my journals.  Straight from my pen to your eyes, here is what my statuses did not say.

• January 18  - Martin Luther King, Jr. Day.  The man has had a direct and profound influence on my life.  I will work toward living up to my own expectations more.
  
• February 26 - 3 tiny, total strangers walked into our house today.  Well, one was carried.  So far, so good but truthfully, I'm terrified.
  
• March 13 - The anniversary party went off without a hitch -- but I have a nagging uneasiness. 
  
• April 18 - I've been hit in the face with a brick.  Make that gut.  No, heart.  I am flat out heartbroken, broken, beaten up -- no sign of hope. Desolate.  Inconsolable.  Mad as hell.  Calling for reinforcements and thank God for my girls.
  
• May 5 -  Back and forth about the babies.  Feeling nuts.  Should they go or stay?  Love them so much but not sure how solid my marriage is yet.
  
• June 15 - Quit my job today.  Sh*t.  Now what?  Guess now I get to see who I am outside of what I do.
  
• July 9 - Dumbfounded, astounded, in shock.   Inconceivably, birthmom terminated her rights.  Feel like the weight of the world has been lifted.  Oh my God.  Thank you, thank you.
  
• August 12 - 5 years since Karissa died.  Still don't get it.  Why?
  
• September 24 -Today,  I have a 14 year old.  Sooooooo grateful for this one and her life with us.  She's too big for me to make it all better anymore but I'm gonna keep trying.
  
• October 7 - missed a call this morning, Gabe almost missed the bus, ran late fixing coffee for Gina.  House a mess, hair a mess, I'm a mess.  What's the point?
  
• November 18:  Tomorrow's adoption day. Today I'm wondering if I'm too old, too fat, too out of touch, too poor, too unemployed, too selfish and too lazy.  Hmm.  Looks like I have some "work" to do before bed.
  
• November 29 - Mom and Dad headed home.  Tired but elated -- it's been a good visit.  If I'm on my back about anything, it's all the eating.  Oops.

That's part of what I didn't say.   It was exposing to see so much unsaid.  And when I read between the lines of not only of the few I've listed here but all that I read last night, I see the things unsaid as opportunities missed. Opportunities to be myself, to be vulnerable, to be truthful, naked, real;  to be awakened.  Following each of these times were times of support and connection;  times I reached out and collaborated with others both on the problems and the possibilities.  Why couldn't that collaboration be a part of my "Facebook face?"  It could and it can.

I am going for a more honest expression of myself in 2011.  Otherwise, what's the point?  

The Assist

Thanksgiving.  Thanks giving.  This singular, secular, holiday contains a unique invitation to change our outlook and our destiny.  Because there is something magical in the act of giving thanks.


In high-school I had a basketball coach named Mr. Snodgrass.  Mr. Snodgrass had one hard and fast rule.  On the court if you made a basket, you immediately turned toward the girl who passed you the ball, pointed at her and yelled, "Good pass, Mary!"  [In basketball, the person passing the ball to the scorer has given her an "assist." ]  This acknowledgment  had to be immediate and loud enough to be heard and if we did not do it, we were benched.  There was a practical reason for this act; it allowed the person tracking the stats to accurately record the assist. But it had a didactic purpose as well:   it helped us realize that we were -- in fact -- a team and that it is important to thank the people that help us succeed.

I regularly makes lists of the things and people I am thankful for.  The simple, clean act of writing it on paper somehow increases my gratitude.  It brings before me the clear memory, the bright face, the soft touch, the warm words that at some point were just what I needed to hear, see or feel.  I have a good many people on my gratitude list this week and some life circumstances too.  In the rush of getting ready for the official holiday of Thanksgiving, I am blessed to take time with a cup of coffee and a clean sheet of paper and do some thanks giving.  Over the next few weeks of Advent I will be taking my it a step further as I write notes or phone people from my list to thank them for the "assist." 

Mr. Snodgrass, wherever you are, I hope you realize the lasting impact of that lesson you taught me 35+ years ago!  You planted in me the seeds of a thankful life and taught me to regularly stop to thank my teammates!  Thank YOU, Mr. Snodgrass.  Good pass!

Bring in the Clowns

Years ago I collected clowns.  Back then, I thought they appealed to me to because they were wacky, light and friendly. It seems patently obvious to me now that there was something else.

I once blithely told a friend that you could bring 20 of my closest friends and family members together in a room and they still would not have the complete and true story of my life.  Heartbreaking.

Clowns are the ultimate artifice.  No matter what she is feeling, it is disguised by her -- literally -- painted-on-smile and entertaining antics.  That pretty much summed up my life prior to 1992.  I painted on a smile and acted happy.  I thought doing so would in fact make me happy.  "Fake it 'til you make it."  But it didn't work. 

In June of 1992, I found myself standing in front of 90 strangers and telling them that what I hoped to gain from my More to Life weekend was joy.  I was shocked to hear the words come out of my mouth.  Wasn't I happy?  I was not.  I was looking for the magic lens -- the little thing that would somehow bring my apparently wonderful life into focus so that I could see it as others did.

There was no magic lens.  Instead it was like a long awakening -- a slowly dawning sunrise -- that bit by bit revealed the truth about me, my mind, and my ability to choose.  Choice.  That was an entirely new word in my vocabulary.  In fact, much like St. Therese of Lisieux, I found my salvation not in the big choices but in the small ones.  I found my way forward by choosing not to get self-righteously angry at my noisy neighbors but instead to look at how loud shouting was a trigger to a cascading avalanche of emotions from my childhood.  I discovered I could choose to love others by reading between the lines of the alternate reality being written by my brain.  Perhaps just as importantly I learned that I could choose to love myself and to trust others with the whole truth of me.

A person of faith, I finally found a way to live out that faith that did not consist only of "trying harder" or "toughing it out."  For most of my life, I had been nodding my head in church saying, "Yes.  I agree. Amen.  But how?  How do I trust?  How do I love?  How do I forgive? "

As St. Therese said so eloquently, I began to see that  "Each small task of everyday is part of the total harmony of the universe."  I started living my life in the here and now.  I chose to forgive even when people around me could not agree that I "should."  I started literally slowing down to "smell the roses."  I learned that a day spent crying is as valuable as a day of fun.  And folding sheets can be as noble a purpose as any other.  A few years back I heard, "Holy as a Day is Spent."  a song that sums it up eloquently.  Carrie Newcomer sings, "Holy is the place I stand; to do whatever small good I can.  The empty page, the open book -- redemption everywhere I look. . . "

Today I dusted off one the two clowns I have left of  that collection. I held him briefly in my hand and considered putting him in the "give away" box.  He is a remnant of a collection and -- I daresay -- a remnant of a way of life. But I did not do it.  I chose again keep him close at hand to help me remember who I really am.

"PC" Talk - Food for Thought

Yesterday I told The Blitz, "Be a better baby!  Be a better baby!"  I said it because I like the rhythm of alliteration.  Normally I say, "Make a wise choice!" or, "Be a good friend," or "Share with your sister, please."  This clear departure from the usual patter caught Pepper's attention.
She called me on it.  "Why did you say that mom?  Why didn't you just say, 'Be good!'"?

"I don't want to label him as good or bad.   I am asking for what I want.  I am being specific.  I am trying to raise a kid who thinks and not just one who tries to stay out of trouble.  We can't be 'good' but we can be 'better."   Sometimes we can make a 'wiser' choice but we can't always make a 'good' one.  I am trying to make it do-able."

She pondered this a minute.  "Well, I remember being little and you saying "Make a wise choice" and me thinking, 'She wants me to be good.'"

Hmmm. Perhaps there is such a thing as too "enlightened parenting."  I'm not sure.  I have to ponder it a bit.

Both Pepper and Sunshine are "good kids."  We say it all the time -- though not to them.

To them, we say, "You are thoughtful.  We trust you to make wise decisions.  Your schoolwork reflects your hard work.  You're responsible.  You're a hard worker.  You are beautiful inside and out -- and the insides are what count the most.  You're a good friend."

Yet, even though we tried to raise them differently, I'm not sure we did.   It's thinly veiled, at best.  It's clearly human nature to label things.  I see it in "the Littles" all the time.

"Girl".
"Boy"
"Bad."
"Happy."
"Hungry."
"Hurt."
"Mad."
"Pretty."
"Cute."
"Yucky."

They don't get all this from me (though I can imagine the fingers pointing!)  It is in them.  We have religiously avoided the label "bad" with all "our" kids -- and yet it is one of the first words each of these "Littles" have said.  A child who makes a "poor choice" is frequently chastised by one of the other two as "bad, bad."  No amount of ignoring or protesting on our part has changed this.  And even though they've not heard the word from us in 8 months, they still know it and use it!

I don't think this revelation will necessarily change my parenting style --but a dose of reality sweetly administered by a wiser-than-her-years 14 year old is certainly useful.  Food for thought.

*Note -- this is a "double post" from my family life blog, Bright Love - Living Large in a Big Family
If you don't know who the "players" are, you can get a roster here.