Paper Boats & Forgiveness

You know those moments where you are in the middle of a terrible mistake? Where you are internally fighting to rectify it but externally frozen? In some way, we are halted, and the gravity of our decision is felt in the aftermath. Recently, this was me. And while I cannot go into details because of parties involved, just know that it sucked. It sucked knowing that in a split second, because of a momentary lapse in judgement, I made a left instead of a right. For the girl who spends her whole life making right turns, going the other direction felt highly uncomfortable.

So, there I was, in the middle of my mess. For somebody who talks an awful lot about grace, you’d think self-forgiveness would be something I’d be better at. I’m here to tell you that forgiving myself is a skill I have yet to refine. Among my other traits, I am a perfectionist. Because of my positions in both of my jobs, I take my responsibilities extremely serious, even in situations where the responsibility wasn’t mine in the first place. I forget that we each must be held accountable for our mistakes, that I cannot carry the weight of another’s decision as my own. Perhaps it is being the oldest or the way life played out that causes me to perceive the world this way. Of that part I am uncertain but I do know that falling is hard on me.

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When I fail, when I don’t get it right, or when I make the wrong decision, I most likely carry that for longer than needed. I wish I could turn that part off or find a way of extending that same grace that I offer to others to myself. Instead, I think. I am an over-thinker who has a whole lot of feelings so that can create grand stories in my head as to how I could have done better or why I made a mistake in the first place. It is not an ideal environment for recovering from a setback.

12698394_10153464610623763_2523441078320941151_oAll wounds, even those we created, need to heal. Our lapses in judgement need a second look from a specialist to figure out why. When our car suddenly goes the wrong way, we take it to the mechanic to understand the reason it veered off course. When we are flitting, fretting and freezing instead of standing up to do what is right, we need the knowledge to do better in the future. In large part, it is because we are human, which immediately makes us flawed. When placed out of our comfort zone, we have the tendency to want to fit in. Fitting in is easy. It’s the standing up when everyone else is sitting that’s more difficult. The shouting in a room filled with quiet. It’s turning your car to the right when everybody is telling you to go left.

We need to accept that doing right, even if unpopular, ultimately creates that which is more fulfilling in the long run. We can’t see it initially but it sets the trajectory for a number of choices further down the road.  That often isn’t a problem for me but getting carried away by the whims of the world is easy. You set your paper boat in the water, knowing it will go whichever way the water is flowing. And then, it might stop. Your little boat is in limbo, halted by a storm drain or branch, waiting to be picked up again. So you do. And this time you can set it down wherever you’d like. You could even take it back home if you wanted. Though it’s easy for your boat to be carried away, the course could change in any given moment.

Falling isn’t without consequence but forgiveness, especially of ourselves, can lighten that already heavy burden. It doesn’t write off the time needed for self-reflection or discussions with people who love us and want to see us succeed.  Knowing we are able to create the best version of ourselves each day is exhilarating. The forgiveness part, at least for me, is still tough to do. I am constantly working on it. But for now, I can pick up my little boat and set it on a brand new course. A new day, a new course and the chance to be the newest, better version of me than I was the day before.

 

Boundaries & Blooming

Once a week, I have lunch with a spunky and sassy 7th grader. We’ve been doing this for two years now. Back then, she used to whoop me at Connect Four or Hangman in the library. Now, she loves fake nails and the subject of boys most always pops into our conversations. The school she’s at is bursting at the seams with toughness and she has grown to fit her environment. The cafeteria, with its chaotic symphony of curse words and reprimanding teachers, makes me dizzy. This has been my toughest year as her mentor. I honestly don’t know how we made it to the end of the school year some days.

A couple of weeks ago, I made the decision to end our mentoring session early. I 100% didn’t want to do this but her actions spoke loudly that day. I can see how much we both have shifted. Her, on the cusp of childhood ending and wandering into that space where we discover who we are as women. Me, wanting to let her know that absolutely anything she yearns for in this life is attainable. Both of us at a standstill in this space. I have come to adore all pieces of her because even in the moments of frustration, when the language is unbearable, I catch glimpses of her sweetness. I’ve learned she is not the sum of these actions but trying to stay afloat in the sea of changes she is constantly presented with has worn her out.

I didn’t want to walk away that day but I needed to. We had consistently approached the topic of respecting our time together and that day, all such discussions went out the window. I told her friend I needed to leave and explained why. I went to my car, with the tears flowing from the weight of my decision. Being a mentor (at least through this program) is a fine line some days. It is limited to contact only within the school and there are guidelines, understandably, for the safety of the students. I needed her to know how great she was but how do I convey that when everything else is trying to pull her down?

We create boundaries, not only out of need for ourselves, but to say we care. Drawing that line. Saying no more. They don’t seem like acts of love do they? They are when we show up again. When we know the lesson is needed. When we halt, take that person by the hand and say, “I want you to see all you are capable of. The brushstrokes you will one day leave behind on the masterpiece of life. But, it can’t be here. Not while you are unwilling to take care of yourself. We need to resolve that part first.” So, we build the fence and leave that opening. Healthy boundaries mean we recognize that person can come back when they’re ready. And you’ll be there waiting, ready to take those next steps.

I’m beginning my Masters’ program in the fall and will have to put off mentoring. I felt guilty about this at first but have finally been able to find some peace. I haven’t the slightest idea if she’ll remember me down the road. If the truth I spoke into her life will make a difference. She needs room to bloom though, that I can tell. I will keep hoping and praying she knows she is enough. That this big world can be pretty sucky (especially middle and high school) but it’s how many times you get back up that counts. I’d love for her to do great and wonderful things in this life. I also have to accept the fact that not everything blooms. Some struggle and pop out of the ground, suddenly, after years of nothing. Some might not at all and the ground will be tilled in order to begin again.

We can never discount the simple fact of showing up, each week, as a reminder that someone will be there. Though difficult and heart-wrenching it may be, boundaries create space for love. When there is struggle and strife, when we are challenged to meet that person in uncertainty and where we may not feel comfortable, it’s not the time to quit. Make the line in the sand. Let them know you’re there. And when they’re ready, they just might take your hand. Ready to erase the line and welcome in something new. That which they might not have recognized before is now so clear. The simple and delightful notion that they are loved.

And Then We Watched the Sunset

I started writing this post last spring, when it had been one year without my mom. While it is very personal to me, I felt it was time to share. I know Mother’s Day can be a difficult time for some but a mother’s love is forever. Be sure to squeeze your people tight while you can. And don’t spend too much time in that place of hurt. It’s more than acceptable to grieve and feel but take time to remind yourself of all the goodness that still surrounds you. Happy Mother’s Day to all the mom’s out there. You do the greatest work known to mankind.

I wanted to watch the sunset with you today. So, I went to the prettiest spot I know here. Where you can look down into Latah Valley and see it all. Trees, the first signs of spring. Life moving forward. Even if it I felt as if it stopped, I knew that wasn’t true for everybody else.

I wanted to watch the sunset alone, except for you of course. We listened to Elton John because I know how much you love him. It was a little bit chilly outside but I didn’t care. Being with you that day was really all that mattered.

I wanted to watch the sunset because I knew I’d find you in the moment where everything becomes still. When the hues of yellow, blue, orange and pink all blend together on the pallet of sky, finally disappearing into complete darkness.

I wanted to watch the sunset because things needed to feel real. I didn’t want sympathetic looks from strangers or the “I’m sorry’s.” They mean well and heck, I’m sure I’d do the same, but gazing at the sky with you finally brought back some normalcy into this life.

 

I wanted to watch the sunset, not to be reminded of everything I’ll miss, but of what I still carry with me. The concerts and plays where I found you in the stands. Silly moments and arguments. Cooking lessons where I spent more time with my nose in a book than actually learning how to cook. Christmas mornings and holidays where we didn’t have a single place to be except together.

I wanted to watch the sunset but also I didn’t. Because of what that would mean, of what I would feel. Of the tears flowing too easily. For what I would learn in this shared quiet moment between you and I. In the way the memories flood back, making it difficult to catch my breath. So for a bit I could forget the unfairness of it all, shrinking away from the tragedies that form our stories.

I wanted to watch the sunset because to say I needed a place to visit you sounds so cliche but yet, I did. To glimpse past the veil that seems to separate us at times, between those who are here and who have left. To see more in the stillness than we generally allow. To recognize that the love is greater than the loss.

I wanted to watch the sunset. So we did. It wasn’t perfect but it was beautiful. It was the point where bliss and hurt coincide. The sharpness of the pain meets up against your unbroken love. We hurt, we heal, we start again. In it all, we never stop loving. In the sunset that day, though I felt my foundation was shaky, I found assuredness in you. In each gift you’ve given. In each smile. In every moment I saw your heart. And wouldn’t you know it, the sun keeps rising and setting. Just like that glorious circle, your love reminds me to rise and to rest. To cover all I can with my own love and warmth.

Thank you for so very many of my best days and for the strength to make the rest of my days as beautiful as those I spent with you. I love you mom.

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Brooklyn Accents & Choosing Joy

This week I had the chance to babysit two wonderful boys whom I had previously nannied for last year. How I became so lucky as to even become their nanny in the first place is beyond me. All I know is that these two young gentlemen make me so darn happy each time I see them.

Even though I have generally been around children in some caregiving capacity (through church, watching my littlest sister, etc.), there was something unique about being a nanny. Perhaps it was the amount of time we spent together and how I was able to watch changes take place as they navigated life. (And I am lucky enough to be in touch with them still!) How little shifts would occur from week to week, sometimes subtle and other times significant. No matter the case, the joy that has been brought to my heart by caring for them has me feeling all sorts of happy.

The conversations you have with a 5 year-old and 2 year-old (at the time I was their nanny) can tend to vary from wildly amusing to….”Is this actually happening right now?” I once had a 20 minute discussion with the oldest in regards to the eating habits of the loch ness monster. (And yes, I was pleasantly surprised by what I learned, although, also not sure what I was expecting.) I truly thank these boys for how much they’ve given me. I play more. Laugh more. And smile more. Because without any of the fun, life is going to be arduous and exhausting.

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Last week was no different than how our time together normally looks. There was the usual dinner time, play time outside, getting ready for bed and then clean up. But, there was also hide-and-seek. And learning the funky chicken dance in the kitchen. And let’s not forget my impression of the elves speaking to Santa with a Brooklyn accent, which left the children in fits of laughter. (These parents are really great for allowing my shenanigans.) 🙂

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Photo Credit: symphony of love Flickr via Compfight cc

 

I am reminded of kindness when the oldest asks me to save whichever insect was lurking about the house (Spider? Fly? I can’t remember) and take it outside. I see wonder when we build leprechaun traps. I find that celebrating small victories isn’t so silly after all. And in the middle of it all, I am still blown away by the pure and simple fact that the everyday moments hold the greatest secrets we will learn in this life. I loved caring for these two and I still do. I think it is absolutely wonderful that we have both been able to teach the other something.

I belt out “Dancing Queen” in my car and sometimes I dance at work. I love going on walks so I can take in the seasonal colors and scents. Laughing makes me happy. I try not to take myself too seriously and if a particular situation or act brings me joy, I fully intend on participating. This life is constantly playing a reel of joyful moments and we were made to partake. What a beautiful gift we were given! Walk in that joy, share it with others and find renewal in what those moments look like. Keep that little joyful candle burning so brightly that you light others just by being near them. In case you were wondering, I don’t have it all figured out. I certainly don’t have the answers but I think I’ve found a couple of kids who do.

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Feeling Grateful Friday – 5/5/2017

And just like that, it’s May! I don’t know about all of you, but there is an abundancefullness (oooh….I like this made-up word combo) of goodness to be grateful for right now! A little gratitude to start off the month sounds perfect to me!

  • Beautiful weather. For reminding me of the fact that even though spring brings rain, it also brings sun! (And some extra warmth this week, getting me all fired up for summer.)
  • Flowers for days! Seriously, you go to bed one night and when you wake up, the world is painted in a gorgeous array of colors. It makes me so happy!
  • Hikes. I feel I am now gaining an appreciation for this incredible beauty that we are blessed with in the Pacific Northwest. I’m exploring more of what’s in my own back yard and I most certainly love what I see.
  • Friends. For pushing me out of what is comfortable. For loving on me when I don’t feel I deserve it. And for looking out for me when it seems I might be getting a little lost. I am so thankful that each one of you has been placed in my life.
  • Struggle. Yes, you read that right. Would I ever imagine a day where I would be thankful for this? Absolutely not. But, through life changes we are challenged and our new self replaces the old. For the relationships that ended. The projects I pursued in reckless ambition, only to realize I wasn’t completely prepared yet. The moments where mentoring challenges me so greatly that I am left in tears. And to silencing the inner dialogue, whispering, “You can’t.” Each of these has added defining features to the work in progress that I already am. I am stronger, braver, more confident, and even on my worst days, feeling for the first time, like my very best self. Without struggle, the view from the mountain top is just another pretty postcard.

Happy Friday Friends! Go find something to be grateful for. 🙂

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Palouse Falls

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