Hi!
Oh, you're going to ask where I've been aren't you? Well - since my last post in October I've had many changes in both my professional and personal life.
How does a house move a major career move, along with 3 trips sound in the past three months? Busy? Yup.
I'm back, and since many of you are firmly "encouraging" me to get back to writing - I will. Thank you for your love and support. I'm truly learning that the most important thing in life is relationships.
Houses, cars, jobs, stuff - it's all here in our lives and takes up a measure of our time. In fact, these things are necessary. But do they create real, true geneuine happiness? No. Not really. If you REALLY think about the times when you're smiling or even laughing out loud, those times have absolutely nothing to do with "stuff." Rather, they involve the people in your life. Those are the relationships you've chosen. They are the underpinning of everything else you do, and without them - you'd be incomplete.
During a time that has been nothing but "busy" lately (and you know what I mean, because I'm sure you're just now finally unwinding from the Holidays)I am gaining a deeper understanding of how busyness - or the excuse of busyness can often provide for us what we're really looking for. A distraction.
For those of us raising kids and running around trying to make their lives better by keeping them and ourselves "involved" in endless activity - perhaps part of it is really keeping us distracted so we don't have a moment to reflect more deeply on our lives and whether or not we're truly who we wanted to be when we grew up.
Friend and author Dee Bright wrote in her recent book a paragraph that I read and re-read several times. She says the following about "business":
Busyness is a sophisticated method of distraction and can even be a means of escape. If I don't slow down, I won't have to look my feelings in the eye. It's hard and uncomfortable sometimes. It's much easier to keep moving, to keep busy. If we stop, we might begin to feel. And if we feel, we might begin to hurt. And if we hurt, we might have to deal with it. And dealing with it is difficult. It's easier to just keep going, going, going and not feel the discomfort at all.
The problem is, discomfort and pain are the ways our bodies and minds communicate with us. If we're not listening, the problem will only grow bigger and deeper. More important, when we refuse to face our pain and grow through it, we're missing out. We'll continue to fill our lives with the unimportant insteand of the amazing.
You know the saying - "if you're not growing, you're dying." I hate that saying because it always challenges me to examine which one I'm doing at the present moment in various areas of my life. There's no standing still. You're either doing one or the other at all times. You're either learning, healing from past pain and making a conscious choice for more love, more joy, more giving in your life - or you're not.
Sometimes we try to fill the empty holes with things other than busyness. Somes times it's food, or alcohol, or sex or exercise or day dreaming (a form of escape).
Which ever way you slice it - existing in a place of avoidance and "busyness" whether it's mental, physical or both - isn't serving the greater purpose of our existence here on earth and all we have to offer each other.
My challenge to myself this year is to re-examine my life, heal from old hurts, move on into bigger and better things in every area of life and to focus on the things that bring true and lasting joy - people, relationships and what is uniquely mine that I have to offer the world to make it a better place.
I challenge you to do the same.
Love,
Steph
Monday, January 12, 2009
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Risk
Are you a risk taker? Your initial response may be “no,” I’m a realist – I like to play it safe.
Others of you may say – “sure, I love a good adventure.” Funny thing is, adventure is not the same thing as risk. The word “risk” is a transitive verb that means “to expose to possible loss or danger.”
Adventure is different. It can be a bit more predictable – you often plan an adventure and you’re in control of where you take your adventure and who you take it with.
There are a couple types of risks – one is calculated. Calculated risk is when you understand the potential outcomes both good and bad and there is again an element of control. It’s almost like being a scientist with 2 study groups one of course being a control group. A calculated risk is relatively safe because you know that you’re not going to lose everything – only a specified amount of whatever you’re putting out there (time, money, energy).
The other type of risk is an all out – leap of faith. It’s sort of an all or nothing. You could lose your shirt, get hurt, fail – or you could have the greatest thing you’ve ever experienced in your life.
This is the type of risk that puts butterflies in your stomach – makes your heart race and sends adrenalin soaring through your veins. It’s exciting – yet often terrifying simultaneously. But I’ve noticed a few interesting things about risk. We all take risks (often subconsciously) – each and every day, probably hundreds of times a day in fact.
When you get in your car and put it into drive, you’re taking a risk. When you send your kids out the door in the morning, you’re taking a risk. It takes an element of faith, in order to take a risk. Have you noticed that?
We really all have a lot more faith than we give ourselves credit for. When I sat down in this chair, I had faith that it would hold me up. I never thought twice that I would crash through it. When I woke up this morning and placed my feet on the floor, it never dawned on me whether or not they would hold me up and carry me to the kitchen. When I flipped my light switch on, I didn’t stop to watch and wonder whether or not the light would actually illuminate. Think about it! We do thousands of things that we don’t think twice about that require a small measure of faith, but we’re conditioned to expect them to go the way we planned.
So why do “risks” that involved relationships, business and dreams scare us so badly? You may disagree with me, but I have a theory (of course).
It is a human tendency to subconsciously strive for homeostasis (a state of sameness). How sad! It’s sad, because it’s really not innate. Here we are designed by a vast, expansively creative power – made in His likeness and image, and we strive for familiarity and sameness?! There’s only one reason – you already know the answer to this. It’s fear.
Here’s the interesting and very enlightening thing about fear – human beings are born with only 2 fears. The fear of falling and the fear of loud noises. It’s a physiological fact!
These defense mechanisms are designed to keep us alive on the earth as babies, infants and toddlers – on through adulthood. Does the human race evolve or develop more fears as they continue to move through life from a biological/physiological standpoint? Nope!
Every single “fear” is learned. It’s ingrained in us from outside forces beginning in the early years of life. Those fears are taught, heard, observed in others or even spoken to us directly....(i.e. “you’ll never”, “I’ll never”, “I couldn’t, “I can’t”, “you can’t”, “you shouldn’t”, “you should”, “I shouldn’t”) you get the idea.
Limitations by fear bombard us from every angle – constantly. Just listen closely sometime to the things people say about themselves. I can guarantee you that within the first 20 seconds of asking someone how something in their life is going; you’ll either hear a complaint, or a wish.
What does that tell you!? It tells me that there are very few people out there actually living the life they dreamed they would.
Who was it anyway that told us to stop dreaming as adults? Who’s the genius that told us to settle for mediocrity, when we could strive for excellence in every area of our lives? Are we that lazy? Are we that passive? Do we just look around at everyone else, see them talk about “reality” and figure our dreams were silly and we should “ground” ourselves, get our heads out of the clouds and just settle. Boring!!
We only live one time on this earth in this body with this life. We indeed were created – to create! We are to express ourselves in whatever way we’ve been gifted.
When we have a dream in our heart – (the thing that we used to shout from the rooftops and proudly announce we wanted to do or be as kids), we now whisper only to our closest friends with a half smile and a roll of the eyes – as if to acknowledge how truly ridiculous it is to have a “dream” at our age beyond our current existence.
I read a fascinating book months ago called “Dream Giver.” In it, it describes the journey of a man named “Ordinary” from the land of “Familiar” who decided to pursue his dream. He was met with “boarder bullies” and many various obstacles including a vast waste land along the course of the journey. These unexpected challenges had “Ordinary” forlorn, dismayed and ready to give it all up and turn around running. But he pressed on and finally when he reached his dream. He had a new revelation of who he truly was.
What was the difference between “Ordinary” and the “boarder bullies” (friends, family, and colleagues) that chastised him for his big dream and tried to talk “sense” into him? Fear of risk.
“Ordinary” was brave enough to take a risk because he knew that if he achieved his dream – it would change life as he knew it in a deeply beautiful and meaningful way.
Here’s another curious thing about “Ordinary’s” journey. It turns out that the big dream that lie deep inside his heart in this particular area of his life – was not his dream at all. It was God’s dream for him.
I believe that we owe it to our Creator to share the gifts and talents he’s planted inside of us. It’s nothing less than insulting to settle for someone else’s dream, or worse – stop dreaming all together.
You can’t pursue any dream without risk. What’s holding you back?
I’ve taken risks in my career, in business and in my personal life. I don’t regret most of them. In fact, in terms of my career, the bolder the risk, the better it gets!
Don’t get me wrong. I don’t have this thing mastered. It’s taken me a very long time to open up to certain kinds of risks. But most recently it dawned on me that I could continue to “play it safe” in my personal life and stay in my land of “familiar” or I could leap of the cliff, arms spread wide open, look out over the vast expanse and feel the ups and downs of where the wind would carry me.
When we hold back from taking risks in business, dreams and love we are simply protecting ourselves from something that’s either happened in the past, happened to almost everyone we know, or are afraid will happen to us. Here comes that “fear” again. I love the acronym for FEAR (False Expectation Appearing Real).
I’m not going to pretend that it isn’t scary taking a risk. It is! It’s sweaty palm scary sometimes! But so what? What’s the very worst thing that can happen? Take it to worst possible case scenario. You could put yourself out there, and one of two things could happen. You could find that the adventure of these bold new steps feels really good and makes you stronger, building your self confidence and causing things to really take off for you. Or, you could put yourself out there and someone could reject your business idea, your talent or your heart. Then what? Curl up in a ball? Blame the world? Curse “love”? Weak!
Do the thing you are afraid to do, and the death of fear is certain.
-Ralph Waldo Emerson
GET BACK OUT THERE! If you sing, then join the church choir or a community theater because you owe it to the rest of the planet to share the gift God’s given you.
If you’re a business minded individual with leadership skills and a great idea – get out there and find a patent attorney and file your business name. I’m probably waiting to purchase the product that’s been swimming around in your head for the past 4 years!
If you’re a creative writer – put pen to paper and share what God has planted in your heart – someone needs exactly what you have to say!
If you’re afraid to love – well, here’s the truth, and I’ve learned it the hard way more than once. You will occasionally be disappointed by people. Why? Because they’re people!
Usually when you are feeling disappointed, rejected or hurt by someone I can almost promise you it’s because of insecurities inside of them. Not you. Read that again.
I had to.
You can choose to “for – give” (thank them for giving you the opportunity to learn and grow) or you can become bitter, hard and closed off to the exact things you always dreamed of that are waiting for you. Those things you want, you’re just not sure you’re worthy of.
A friend of mine who coaches business owners said something that shook me. She said, “Most people think they’re afraid of failure, when in reality – they’re afraid of success.” Of course I asked her why on earth anyone would be afraid of success, and before I could finish my own sentence, it all became clear.
When we pursue something and it starts to go well, people will begin expecting things from us. They’ll expect more success, more of what we’ve already accomplished or done. That’s pressure – right?
With success in any area of life comes responsibility. But what about the rewards?! At what point do we see the picture of the outcome in our minds eye, smile and decide that it’s worth it?
What’s the alternative?? Looking back in the future and verbalizing our heavy hearted curiosity… “I wonder what would have happened if…” or what about the old famous, “I wish I would have just…” “If only I would have….” All those sad, but too often spoken phrases from people that were simply too afraid to leave “familiar.”
What’s really funny is that often times your “familiar” (the place you chose to remain in your mind, your heart or otherwise)is full of pain and bad memories! Did you know that that’s exactly why you’re still there?
Seriously!
You know I love you – but that’s your excuse for not taking a risk. You’re getting some pay off from “wallowing.” Maybe its sympathy from others, maybe it allows you to get away with behavior that is beneath you.
Maybe it even makes you feel "safe." But I hope you know by now that "safety" is an illusion. You're not "safe" when you're in a box - you're in prison. You create your own "safety" when you make good choices and learn to trust yourself.
Think about it. Don’t ask how I know! J
Here’s the thing my friend, and this is important. ONLY RISK TAKERS ACHIEVE THEIR DREAM – IN ANY AREA OF LIFE.
And, NOTHING GREAT WAS EVER ACHIEVED WITHOUT A RISK. It’s not possible. The most successful people in the world by our cultural standards were doubted, rejected, scoffed at and told their “dream” was ridiculous.
Where are they now? Well, Bill Gates is probably on vacation somewhere or setting up a new computer lab for inner city kids (living what he describes as his most fulfilling dream to date). Einstein, well he’s dead but that theory of relativity sure rocks, and Thomas Edison – well after trying to illuminate glass over 1000 times, he never said he “failed.” He only said “I’ve simply found 1000 ways that it WON’T work.” That’s bold. Aren’t you glad he didn’t give up?
Every risk has its reward. Every single one. Even if the thing you thought you wanted didn’t work out, I promise there’s a deeper challenge and a greater meaning in the steps of bravery that carry you forward past your fears and into really “living.”
Others of you may say – “sure, I love a good adventure.” Funny thing is, adventure is not the same thing as risk. The word “risk” is a transitive verb that means “to expose to possible loss or danger.”
Adventure is different. It can be a bit more predictable – you often plan an adventure and you’re in control of where you take your adventure and who you take it with.
There are a couple types of risks – one is calculated. Calculated risk is when you understand the potential outcomes both good and bad and there is again an element of control. It’s almost like being a scientist with 2 study groups one of course being a control group. A calculated risk is relatively safe because you know that you’re not going to lose everything – only a specified amount of whatever you’re putting out there (time, money, energy).
The other type of risk is an all out – leap of faith. It’s sort of an all or nothing. You could lose your shirt, get hurt, fail – or you could have the greatest thing you’ve ever experienced in your life.
This is the type of risk that puts butterflies in your stomach – makes your heart race and sends adrenalin soaring through your veins. It’s exciting – yet often terrifying simultaneously. But I’ve noticed a few interesting things about risk. We all take risks (often subconsciously) – each and every day, probably hundreds of times a day in fact.
When you get in your car and put it into drive, you’re taking a risk. When you send your kids out the door in the morning, you’re taking a risk. It takes an element of faith, in order to take a risk. Have you noticed that?
We really all have a lot more faith than we give ourselves credit for. When I sat down in this chair, I had faith that it would hold me up. I never thought twice that I would crash through it. When I woke up this morning and placed my feet on the floor, it never dawned on me whether or not they would hold me up and carry me to the kitchen. When I flipped my light switch on, I didn’t stop to watch and wonder whether or not the light would actually illuminate. Think about it! We do thousands of things that we don’t think twice about that require a small measure of faith, but we’re conditioned to expect them to go the way we planned.
So why do “risks” that involved relationships, business and dreams scare us so badly? You may disagree with me, but I have a theory (of course).
It is a human tendency to subconsciously strive for homeostasis (a state of sameness). How sad! It’s sad, because it’s really not innate. Here we are designed by a vast, expansively creative power – made in His likeness and image, and we strive for familiarity and sameness?! There’s only one reason – you already know the answer to this. It’s fear.
Here’s the interesting and very enlightening thing about fear – human beings are born with only 2 fears. The fear of falling and the fear of loud noises. It’s a physiological fact!
These defense mechanisms are designed to keep us alive on the earth as babies, infants and toddlers – on through adulthood. Does the human race evolve or develop more fears as they continue to move through life from a biological/physiological standpoint? Nope!
Every single “fear” is learned. It’s ingrained in us from outside forces beginning in the early years of life. Those fears are taught, heard, observed in others or even spoken to us directly....(i.e. “you’ll never”, “I’ll never”, “I couldn’t, “I can’t”, “you can’t”, “you shouldn’t”, “you should”, “I shouldn’t”) you get the idea.
Limitations by fear bombard us from every angle – constantly. Just listen closely sometime to the things people say about themselves. I can guarantee you that within the first 20 seconds of asking someone how something in their life is going; you’ll either hear a complaint, or a wish.
What does that tell you!? It tells me that there are very few people out there actually living the life they dreamed they would.
Who was it anyway that told us to stop dreaming as adults? Who’s the genius that told us to settle for mediocrity, when we could strive for excellence in every area of our lives? Are we that lazy? Are we that passive? Do we just look around at everyone else, see them talk about “reality” and figure our dreams were silly and we should “ground” ourselves, get our heads out of the clouds and just settle. Boring!!
We only live one time on this earth in this body with this life. We indeed were created – to create! We are to express ourselves in whatever way we’ve been gifted.
When we have a dream in our heart – (the thing that we used to shout from the rooftops and proudly announce we wanted to do or be as kids), we now whisper only to our closest friends with a half smile and a roll of the eyes – as if to acknowledge how truly ridiculous it is to have a “dream” at our age beyond our current existence.
I read a fascinating book months ago called “Dream Giver.” In it, it describes the journey of a man named “Ordinary” from the land of “Familiar” who decided to pursue his dream. He was met with “boarder bullies” and many various obstacles including a vast waste land along the course of the journey. These unexpected challenges had “Ordinary” forlorn, dismayed and ready to give it all up and turn around running. But he pressed on and finally when he reached his dream. He had a new revelation of who he truly was.
What was the difference between “Ordinary” and the “boarder bullies” (friends, family, and colleagues) that chastised him for his big dream and tried to talk “sense” into him? Fear of risk.
“Ordinary” was brave enough to take a risk because he knew that if he achieved his dream – it would change life as he knew it in a deeply beautiful and meaningful way.
Here’s another curious thing about “Ordinary’s” journey. It turns out that the big dream that lie deep inside his heart in this particular area of his life – was not his dream at all. It was God’s dream for him.
I believe that we owe it to our Creator to share the gifts and talents he’s planted inside of us. It’s nothing less than insulting to settle for someone else’s dream, or worse – stop dreaming all together.
You can’t pursue any dream without risk. What’s holding you back?
I’ve taken risks in my career, in business and in my personal life. I don’t regret most of them. In fact, in terms of my career, the bolder the risk, the better it gets!
Don’t get me wrong. I don’t have this thing mastered. It’s taken me a very long time to open up to certain kinds of risks. But most recently it dawned on me that I could continue to “play it safe” in my personal life and stay in my land of “familiar” or I could leap of the cliff, arms spread wide open, look out over the vast expanse and feel the ups and downs of where the wind would carry me.
When we hold back from taking risks in business, dreams and love we are simply protecting ourselves from something that’s either happened in the past, happened to almost everyone we know, or are afraid will happen to us. Here comes that “fear” again. I love the acronym for FEAR (False Expectation Appearing Real).
I’m not going to pretend that it isn’t scary taking a risk. It is! It’s sweaty palm scary sometimes! But so what? What’s the very worst thing that can happen? Take it to worst possible case scenario. You could put yourself out there, and one of two things could happen. You could find that the adventure of these bold new steps feels really good and makes you stronger, building your self confidence and causing things to really take off for you. Or, you could put yourself out there and someone could reject your business idea, your talent or your heart. Then what? Curl up in a ball? Blame the world? Curse “love”? Weak!
Do the thing you are afraid to do, and the death of fear is certain.
-Ralph Waldo Emerson
GET BACK OUT THERE! If you sing, then join the church choir or a community theater because you owe it to the rest of the planet to share the gift God’s given you.
If you’re a business minded individual with leadership skills and a great idea – get out there and find a patent attorney and file your business name. I’m probably waiting to purchase the product that’s been swimming around in your head for the past 4 years!
If you’re a creative writer – put pen to paper and share what God has planted in your heart – someone needs exactly what you have to say!
If you’re afraid to love – well, here’s the truth, and I’ve learned it the hard way more than once. You will occasionally be disappointed by people. Why? Because they’re people!
Usually when you are feeling disappointed, rejected or hurt by someone I can almost promise you it’s because of insecurities inside of them. Not you. Read that again.
I had to.
You can choose to “for – give” (thank them for giving you the opportunity to learn and grow) or you can become bitter, hard and closed off to the exact things you always dreamed of that are waiting for you. Those things you want, you’re just not sure you’re worthy of.
A friend of mine who coaches business owners said something that shook me. She said, “Most people think they’re afraid of failure, when in reality – they’re afraid of success.” Of course I asked her why on earth anyone would be afraid of success, and before I could finish my own sentence, it all became clear.
When we pursue something and it starts to go well, people will begin expecting things from us. They’ll expect more success, more of what we’ve already accomplished or done. That’s pressure – right?
With success in any area of life comes responsibility. But what about the rewards?! At what point do we see the picture of the outcome in our minds eye, smile and decide that it’s worth it?
What’s the alternative?? Looking back in the future and verbalizing our heavy hearted curiosity… “I wonder what would have happened if…” or what about the old famous, “I wish I would have just…” “If only I would have….” All those sad, but too often spoken phrases from people that were simply too afraid to leave “familiar.”
What’s really funny is that often times your “familiar” (the place you chose to remain in your mind, your heart or otherwise)is full of pain and bad memories! Did you know that that’s exactly why you’re still there?
Seriously!
You know I love you – but that’s your excuse for not taking a risk. You’re getting some pay off from “wallowing.” Maybe its sympathy from others, maybe it allows you to get away with behavior that is beneath you.
Maybe it even makes you feel "safe." But I hope you know by now that "safety" is an illusion. You're not "safe" when you're in a box - you're in prison. You create your own "safety" when you make good choices and learn to trust yourself.
Think about it. Don’t ask how I know! J
Here’s the thing my friend, and this is important. ONLY RISK TAKERS ACHIEVE THEIR DREAM – IN ANY AREA OF LIFE.
And, NOTHING GREAT WAS EVER ACHIEVED WITHOUT A RISK. It’s not possible. The most successful people in the world by our cultural standards were doubted, rejected, scoffed at and told their “dream” was ridiculous.
Where are they now? Well, Bill Gates is probably on vacation somewhere or setting up a new computer lab for inner city kids (living what he describes as his most fulfilling dream to date). Einstein, well he’s dead but that theory of relativity sure rocks, and Thomas Edison – well after trying to illuminate glass over 1000 times, he never said he “failed.” He only said “I’ve simply found 1000 ways that it WON’T work.” That’s bold. Aren’t you glad he didn’t give up?
Every risk has its reward. Every single one. Even if the thing you thought you wanted didn’t work out, I promise there’s a deeper challenge and a greater meaning in the steps of bravery that carry you forward past your fears and into really “living.”
Friday, October 10, 2008
Storms
Sometimes you can see it coming in the distance. Big, dark grey and deep blue clouds slowly approach in the distance. They roll in slowly, appearing off in the distance and then creeping closer and closer until the drops of rain begin to fall.
If you’re paying attention, and watching the skies you’ll prepare yourself. You’ll take cover you’ll do what you need to do to protect yourself and ride it out. You know eventually it will end, but you’re not thinking about that when you’re in midst of the whirlwind. You’re paying attention to the severity, to the potential danger and to the damage.
Some storms are sudden and severe but they pass quickly. Others start slowly and build predictably, and then roll into the next town, spanning as much territory as possible. Then there are others - the real scary storms that come on suddenly – as if out of nowhere. Maybe they seem sudden because we aren’t paying attention. Maybe there were warning signs, flashes of lightening off in the distance that you didn’t notice because you were distracted or focused on other things.
No matter how it approaches or finds it ways into your life – storms happen. When it comes to the weather – we can be deliberate and try to plan accordingly, but in the reality and the infrequencies of life often times there’s no preparing. They take us by surprise. Sometimes they’ve been building over time and we didn’t even realize it. Sometimes there’s a storm approaching from a county away, and the sun is shining where we are so we have no idea of the impending danger. In any case –when we find ourselves in the midst of it – ready or not, it can change who we are and how we see our lives.
What do you do? Run for cover? Brace yourself and boldly ride it out? Try to hide? I guess it depends.
I recently went through one of the worst storms of my life. Some of you never even knew it. You saw that familiar smile, you heard me talk like I actually know what I’m talking about…and you laughed at my often feeble attempts at humor. Those of you who know me very well, however – know that I’m a performer. It’s what I do for a living. While often the life of the party, what many people don’t know is that performer personalities feel the pressure to always be “on.” Anything less would be showing weakness and vulnerability and there’s nothing worse.
Only a few of you saw the tears, the pain and the fear.
It began when my son Ben started to rapidly regress. Near the end of August he finished a very intense neurological “brain gym” program. When the therapy was finished my son disappeared. It was like watching someone slowly walking backwards into a black hole. I felt so helpless. He began doing things to himself that were causing injury. My baby was beating himself up – with his fists! He developed huge bruises on his joints, and was hitting himself in the head with fists, almost constantly. He also stopped talking conversationally and would only repeat a few very loud phrases.
He got up each night in the middle of the night and would run into my room – than up for the day by 4 or 4:30 in the morning. This went on for a month.
When I would try to stop him from yelling, hitting himself or anything else…it would get worse. He’d go after the other kids – even the dog! When I would hold him back, he’d try to bite anything within distance. Even on our car rides to doctors, therapy etc. he’d bite the arm of the chair!
I went into a tail spin, which resembled the one that I sunk into shortly after Ben was diagnosed. I searched the internet during the night time and called around during the day trying to find answers.
Personality types like mine do not “accept” things that “are” very easily. To us that’s an absurd concept. To us, you get up – and you do something about it! You quickly start researching to collect all the possible causes, treatments and cures. You just "get er done!" You internalize you angst for a while, while driving forward toward a solution to the “problem.”
This time I simply felt helpless. I was helpless. Nothing I was doing was working to help my baby. One morning after another sleepless night I picked up the phone and demanded that he be seen at his doc’s office right away. We had other assessments and evaluations that we needed to go through to try to figure things out.
Watching my son in this place pushed me to different place. This one was a dark one. Full of self doubt, and wondering where I went wrong and what on earth I am doing with my life. It became strikingly obvious that my plan for Ben didn’t work. My 5 year plan for getting my son mainstreamed just didn’t work. I failed. Not only is he not mainstreamed and having lost his diagnosis yet – but now I’m supposed to try to pull him out of a massive stim/SIB regression! Too much. I hated autism and the way it imprisons perfect little creatures.
My old anxiety and panic came back like a flood. All the fear, the pain and the doubt on the inside of that storm literally drowns out everything else. No amount of exercise or happy stories stops the misfired flood of adrenalin that surges at times like this.
It’s times like this when God (who promises never to leave us nor forsake us) feels very distant. “Where are YOU!” “Help my son!” “Help me!” I always want a fail swoop to decend like a wing to sweep me up and carry me to the place where my mind had before hand created all the things that are supposed to be going right and well. But, God works in his own ways. Sometimes he doesn’t swoop down, scoop us down and carry us away. I even though of that beautiful piece of art called “Footprints” where there are 2 pairs of feed imprints in the sand for a distance and then only one. The caption reads, “When you were strong I walked with you, when you were weak…I carried you.” Why was I still walkig, and carrying Ben on my back?!
It occurs to me that he could of course come on down to earth and do this in the flesh. Or does he? He promises to send an ever present help in our time of trouble. I’m going to call them Angels.
Angels began showing up appearing in my life…and then the real close ones – rushed in. Some of my angels were the ones that stayed in my home with me trying to offset Ben in those early hours so I could try to get some sleep. Some you are the ones that came and helped take care of the kids and do laundry while I went to the doctor to be tested for thyroid and Adrenal fatigue! Or paced the floor waiting to give Ben a medication – or helping me try the things the doctors prescribed. There were those of you angels that literally held me. You just held me. Some of you let me sob in your arms knowing that I needed to be weak/almost childlike in that moment. When you weren’t there, you called me every day. You know who you are.
For the other angels that didn’t understand the depth of what I was going through but still showed up as an angel. Those of you who allowed me to deligate my work reponsibilities onto you while you encouraged me.
Thank you.
You’re the ones that gave me something interesting and beautiful to focus on – and that was very healing. You allowed me to be myself minus the all the chaos.The walks, the talks, you brought me back to a place of normalcy outside of the storm that was still brewing in my home and with my kids.
Thank you for being my angels! You’ve inspired me to do the very same thing for others around me. We all hear our friends and/or acquaintances say that they’re going through something hard and we sort of make this “ah” pouty lip face, stick a hand on their shoulder and act as if that small action should suffice.
My new challenge to myself will be to reach out to those that really is in pain or in need that are in close proximity and try to comfort them in a real way that would add to their lives. That’s what it takes to help someone through a storm I think. There are times when you’ve got the hand of someone and you’re on solid ground, but you’re holding on for dear life because they’re dangling in the wind!
At this point – it’s time to jump into the storm with them, get dirty and let them be weak if you have the ability to be strong. No judgment involved…just a quiet ear, a soft encouraging word, a hot meal, a load of laundry, mowing the lawn – or even just that hug.
My goal now is to try to be as sensitive as possible to someone who’s got the painted smile, while the pain seeps out every nook and cranny. It’s OK to get real with each other. Even those of us with ridiculous expectations of ourselves or others. It’s OK to be vulnerable – and the moist IMPORTANT thing I learned is that it’s important to be honest and ask for help without feeling bad about it!“Supermom” shouldn’t need help – right? That’s what I would have loved for you to think. It’s just not possible to be all things to all people at all times. No one really expects us to – but us!
I’ve resolved to take off that ridiculous expectation, and move in what I know to be true and right to pursue for my kids and I. I will not me in guilt because I haven’t healed Ben. That's not my job - it's Gods. I'm going to continue to do the very best I can do with the knowledge and information I have for my son. And you know what? It will be fabulous!
Thanks for all your thoughts, prayers and help for our little family. God Bless you – MY ANGELS!
If you’re paying attention, and watching the skies you’ll prepare yourself. You’ll take cover you’ll do what you need to do to protect yourself and ride it out. You know eventually it will end, but you’re not thinking about that when you’re in midst of the whirlwind. You’re paying attention to the severity, to the potential danger and to the damage.
Some storms are sudden and severe but they pass quickly. Others start slowly and build predictably, and then roll into the next town, spanning as much territory as possible. Then there are others - the real scary storms that come on suddenly – as if out of nowhere. Maybe they seem sudden because we aren’t paying attention. Maybe there were warning signs, flashes of lightening off in the distance that you didn’t notice because you were distracted or focused on other things.
No matter how it approaches or finds it ways into your life – storms happen. When it comes to the weather – we can be deliberate and try to plan accordingly, but in the reality and the infrequencies of life often times there’s no preparing. They take us by surprise. Sometimes they’ve been building over time and we didn’t even realize it. Sometimes there’s a storm approaching from a county away, and the sun is shining where we are so we have no idea of the impending danger. In any case –when we find ourselves in the midst of it – ready or not, it can change who we are and how we see our lives.
What do you do? Run for cover? Brace yourself and boldly ride it out? Try to hide? I guess it depends.
I recently went through one of the worst storms of my life. Some of you never even knew it. You saw that familiar smile, you heard me talk like I actually know what I’m talking about…and you laughed at my often feeble attempts at humor. Those of you who know me very well, however – know that I’m a performer. It’s what I do for a living. While often the life of the party, what many people don’t know is that performer personalities feel the pressure to always be “on.” Anything less would be showing weakness and vulnerability and there’s nothing worse.
Only a few of you saw the tears, the pain and the fear.
It began when my son Ben started to rapidly regress. Near the end of August he finished a very intense neurological “brain gym” program. When the therapy was finished my son disappeared. It was like watching someone slowly walking backwards into a black hole. I felt so helpless. He began doing things to himself that were causing injury. My baby was beating himself up – with his fists! He developed huge bruises on his joints, and was hitting himself in the head with fists, almost constantly. He also stopped talking conversationally and would only repeat a few very loud phrases.
He got up each night in the middle of the night and would run into my room – than up for the day by 4 or 4:30 in the morning. This went on for a month.
When I would try to stop him from yelling, hitting himself or anything else…it would get worse. He’d go after the other kids – even the dog! When I would hold him back, he’d try to bite anything within distance. Even on our car rides to doctors, therapy etc. he’d bite the arm of the chair!
I went into a tail spin, which resembled the one that I sunk into shortly after Ben was diagnosed. I searched the internet during the night time and called around during the day trying to find answers.
Personality types like mine do not “accept” things that “are” very easily. To us that’s an absurd concept. To us, you get up – and you do something about it! You quickly start researching to collect all the possible causes, treatments and cures. You just "get er done!" You internalize you angst for a while, while driving forward toward a solution to the “problem.”
This time I simply felt helpless. I was helpless. Nothing I was doing was working to help my baby. One morning after another sleepless night I picked up the phone and demanded that he be seen at his doc’s office right away. We had other assessments and evaluations that we needed to go through to try to figure things out.
Watching my son in this place pushed me to different place. This one was a dark one. Full of self doubt, and wondering where I went wrong and what on earth I am doing with my life. It became strikingly obvious that my plan for Ben didn’t work. My 5 year plan for getting my son mainstreamed just didn’t work. I failed. Not only is he not mainstreamed and having lost his diagnosis yet – but now I’m supposed to try to pull him out of a massive stim/SIB regression! Too much. I hated autism and the way it imprisons perfect little creatures.
My old anxiety and panic came back like a flood. All the fear, the pain and the doubt on the inside of that storm literally drowns out everything else. No amount of exercise or happy stories stops the misfired flood of adrenalin that surges at times like this.
It’s times like this when God (who promises never to leave us nor forsake us) feels very distant. “Where are YOU!” “Help my son!” “Help me!” I always want a fail swoop to decend like a wing to sweep me up and carry me to the place where my mind had before hand created all the things that are supposed to be going right and well. But, God works in his own ways. Sometimes he doesn’t swoop down, scoop us down and carry us away. I even though of that beautiful piece of art called “Footprints” where there are 2 pairs of feed imprints in the sand for a distance and then only one. The caption reads, “When you were strong I walked with you, when you were weak…I carried you.” Why was I still walkig, and carrying Ben on my back?!
It occurs to me that he could of course come on down to earth and do this in the flesh. Or does he? He promises to send an ever present help in our time of trouble. I’m going to call them Angels.
Angels began showing up appearing in my life…and then the real close ones – rushed in. Some of my angels were the ones that stayed in my home with me trying to offset Ben in those early hours so I could try to get some sleep. Some you are the ones that came and helped take care of the kids and do laundry while I went to the doctor to be tested for thyroid and Adrenal fatigue! Or paced the floor waiting to give Ben a medication – or helping me try the things the doctors prescribed. There were those of you angels that literally held me. You just held me. Some of you let me sob in your arms knowing that I needed to be weak/almost childlike in that moment. When you weren’t there, you called me every day. You know who you are.
For the other angels that didn’t understand the depth of what I was going through but still showed up as an angel. Those of you who allowed me to deligate my work reponsibilities onto you while you encouraged me.
Thank you.
You’re the ones that gave me something interesting and beautiful to focus on – and that was very healing. You allowed me to be myself minus the all the chaos.The walks, the talks, you brought me back to a place of normalcy outside of the storm that was still brewing in my home and with my kids.
Thank you for being my angels! You’ve inspired me to do the very same thing for others around me. We all hear our friends and/or acquaintances say that they’re going through something hard and we sort of make this “ah” pouty lip face, stick a hand on their shoulder and act as if that small action should suffice.
My new challenge to myself will be to reach out to those that really is in pain or in need that are in close proximity and try to comfort them in a real way that would add to their lives. That’s what it takes to help someone through a storm I think. There are times when you’ve got the hand of someone and you’re on solid ground, but you’re holding on for dear life because they’re dangling in the wind!
At this point – it’s time to jump into the storm with them, get dirty and let them be weak if you have the ability to be strong. No judgment involved…just a quiet ear, a soft encouraging word, a hot meal, a load of laundry, mowing the lawn – or even just that hug.
My goal now is to try to be as sensitive as possible to someone who’s got the painted smile, while the pain seeps out every nook and cranny. It’s OK to get real with each other. Even those of us with ridiculous expectations of ourselves or others. It’s OK to be vulnerable – and the moist IMPORTANT thing I learned is that it’s important to be honest and ask for help without feeling bad about it!“Supermom” shouldn’t need help – right? That’s what I would have loved for you to think. It’s just not possible to be all things to all people at all times. No one really expects us to – but us!
I’ve resolved to take off that ridiculous expectation, and move in what I know to be true and right to pursue for my kids and I. I will not me in guilt because I haven’t healed Ben. That's not my job - it's Gods. I'm going to continue to do the very best I can do with the knowledge and information I have for my son. And you know what? It will be fabulous!
Thanks for all your thoughts, prayers and help for our little family. God Bless you – MY ANGELS!
Thursday, September 4, 2008
Tall Order
“MOM!” Can I have Grape juice?” “Can I have a snack?” “Nick won’t give me my coloring book!””Samuel tripped me!” “No, I wanted GRAPE juice, not apple juice!” “Where’s my snack?” “Nick still has my coloring book!” “Can you help me ride my bike?” “When are we having lunch?” “When can we go to the park?”
It really doesn’t end. It begins at between 5 and 6:00am with a 10 year old (Ben) content to pace outside my bedroom door with a very loud “radio” toy, while he hums loudly along to every verse, and a very chatting 5 year old who wants to make sure to share with me every single sound effect he’s discovered he can make while playing with his actions figures.
It doesn’t end until nearly 10pm when my oldest son has run all his “errands” around the house, from brushing his teeth to clipping his nails to trying to modify his recent hair cut on his own, and then asking for help to fix it.
This is life for a mom at home with her kids. Daily. Why do I say “mom” and not “parent?” Because I know how kids work – my kids especially. They can be sitting on their dads lap, or he can be walking through the room on one of his weekly visits and my two youngest will look straight through him – directly at me and ask me for a glass of water. I suppose it makes sense. After all, I am their primary care taker and they’re used to coming to me. For EVERYTHING.
What have I created here? Does anyone else deal with the challenge of being the preferred “short order cook” as it were? That’s often how I feel. I honestly don’t remember being quite so needy as a child. Have we cultivated a generation of spoiled children who are simply used to immediate gratification with high levels of dependency? OR IS IT JUST ME?
I like to think of myself as a very attentive person, my mothering is no exception. I don’t know of any woman that would admit to anything less. Maybe it feels compounded because it’s just me, and it has been for years and the kids are used to coming to me almost exclusively. But that doesn’t make it any less exasperating.
How do we deal with the overwhelming nature of having kids literally hanging off of us on a daily basis? I had a great idea. I thought I’d treat myself to a nice, relaxing nightly soak in the tub. I was going to make it my ritual. Almost as though it were planned – like some cruel joke, I’d slip into the tub, cover myself in bubbles and a new version of the chaos would begin. First, a voice at the door, “MOM?!” “Yup!” I’d respond. “Can I come in?” my little Savannah would innocently ask. “Nope” I’d calmly reply and close my eyes, just waiting to melt the day away with a new vision of what lie ahead and what I hoped to create tomorrow. About 10 seconds or so would pass and another arrival at the door would startle me back into reality. “MOM! I have to go to the bathroom!!” This from my 5 year old. “Sorry Nicky, you’ll have to go downstairs – mommy’s taking a bath.” That should do it. Now, if only I could get just 10 minutes alone with my thoughts…”Yea, but I can’t go downstairs – there’s a scary spido (spider) down dere (down there)!! “Alright Nick, just a minute.” I grab my towel, hastily rush to the door and fling it open, only to be greeted by 3 faces starring up at me. My 2 youngest burst into giggles while chiding, “mommy’s naked!!” followed by my sweet Ben who busts into the bathroom to make certain that (heaven forbid) I’m not trying to enjoy some relaxing music with my soak. He quickly pushes me aside to check the radio and without skipping a beat unplugs it if it’s plugged in (kids with autism are often very sensitive to sounds and music and Ben is one of them).
“Well, I tried” I’d say to console myself. In fact I tried several times night after night to establish and enjoy this little ritual only to be met with some variation of that same interruption episode. I finally decided that the short 10 minutes I would hope to enjoy in the tub was not worth the set up before hand to make certain that everyone was toileted, watered and secure in their own activities (lest a fight break out over a book, toy or piece of food). This just isn’t going to work. At least not right now.
Here’s the consolation. These amazing little children that God has so graciously blessed me with are growing faster than I could have ever imagined possible. While this time in my life lends to very little recreation or social time (then there’s that silly word “balance”) I know that in life there truly is very little “balance” to be had.
I recently finished a book that clarified things for me in this area and made me feel less abnormal for not striking this mysterious “balance” that I hear so much about. The author talked about the fact that truly in any area of life when you’re looking to achieve things, those areas require focus. So, for example if you’ve got a project at work and you’re on a strict deadline to complete it, your focused energy will be placed there, and you’ll let some of the other aspects of your job fall to the back burner. Not that you’ll neglect them completely, but you’ll give them less attention until you’ve got this time sensitive project completed.
Once that particular thing is done – you’ll move on and pick up again some of your other, less time sensitive details until the next “project” comes up. When there are particular goals in front of us or things we aspire to that will add to and enhance our lives in some way, we tend to get very focused in that area as well, at least for a short time until we’ve either accomplished our goal, or something comes along that distracts us and we shift gears. Either way, it’s more about striking chords of “harmony” in life rather than “balance.” When harmony occurs, there are small hints of lots of interesting components in our lives. When I think of the word “harmony” I think of a symphony playing a beautiful musical composition with gentle hints of tones that move in and out of concentration, barely detectible at one point, yet coming to a crescendo later in the melody. All of these fine details that move in and out of concentration weaving a landscape in your mind and evoking emotion throughout the piece – these notes are rarely balanced – but they have the ability to creating the most beautiful art.
When I think about this in terms of being a parent with young children I think of it as a “season” in life. As we move through various stages with our kids, some things come to a “crescendo” while other things take a backseat. But that’s how it’s supposed to work. We trade sleepless nights when their infants, for sleepless nights when they’re teenagers – for different reasons, but It’s all part of the process. We find ourselves so incensed with the endless barrage of questions and commentary by our young children to the point that we sigh and roll our eyes when for the fourth time we’ve been asked the same question in 30 seconds (OK, maybe that’s just me) but there will come a time when they won’t feel the need to ask because they’ll think they know it all, and our years of knowledge and life’s experience will become nothing more to them than an irritation.
So, is it possible to embrace this idea of creating “harmony” in our lives with our kids rather than chasing the elusive idea of “balance”? I’m not sure, but I’m willing to give it a try. I’m looking to master the concept of enjoying the present moment, rather than constantly catapulting myself into the future in my mind. If I can learn to take each day – exclusively as it is. With its God given blessings, along with its “opportunities for growth” (i.e. “problems”) than it might be easier to enjoy the beauty of the melody that’s currently playing, rather than trying to hurry to write a new song. Does that make sense?
I never want to look back on this time in my life and regret the fact that I was always looking “forward” to when things would get “easier” with the kids. The truth is that my kids are healthy, secure and seemingly pretty happy! That’s a huge accomplishment! As for me, I’m working on learning more and more each day to entrench myself in the blessings of all that is right and good in our lives. All the rich relationships, opportunities and experiences we have available every single day. And when those days come where it seems like the kids have purposefully plotted some evil plan to drive me to the outer fringes, I’ll reel myself back in with a quick (or sometimes not so quick) phone call to my sister, or to a friend with a sympathetic ear.
No one said raising children was easy. If they did, they paid someone else to do it for them. It’s our job to strike harmony and enjoy the beauty of the music, whether the melody takes a turn and moves us to tears, or it brings us to a place of lighthearted joy – either way it’s intended to leave us richer, more- well rounded, and ultimately inspired.
It really doesn’t end. It begins at between 5 and 6:00am with a 10 year old (Ben) content to pace outside my bedroom door with a very loud “radio” toy, while he hums loudly along to every verse, and a very chatting 5 year old who wants to make sure to share with me every single sound effect he’s discovered he can make while playing with his actions figures.
It doesn’t end until nearly 10pm when my oldest son has run all his “errands” around the house, from brushing his teeth to clipping his nails to trying to modify his recent hair cut on his own, and then asking for help to fix it.
This is life for a mom at home with her kids. Daily. Why do I say “mom” and not “parent?” Because I know how kids work – my kids especially. They can be sitting on their dads lap, or he can be walking through the room on one of his weekly visits and my two youngest will look straight through him – directly at me and ask me for a glass of water. I suppose it makes sense. After all, I am their primary care taker and they’re used to coming to me. For EVERYTHING.
What have I created here? Does anyone else deal with the challenge of being the preferred “short order cook” as it were? That’s often how I feel. I honestly don’t remember being quite so needy as a child. Have we cultivated a generation of spoiled children who are simply used to immediate gratification with high levels of dependency? OR IS IT JUST ME?
I like to think of myself as a very attentive person, my mothering is no exception. I don’t know of any woman that would admit to anything less. Maybe it feels compounded because it’s just me, and it has been for years and the kids are used to coming to me almost exclusively. But that doesn’t make it any less exasperating.
How do we deal with the overwhelming nature of having kids literally hanging off of us on a daily basis? I had a great idea. I thought I’d treat myself to a nice, relaxing nightly soak in the tub. I was going to make it my ritual. Almost as though it were planned – like some cruel joke, I’d slip into the tub, cover myself in bubbles and a new version of the chaos would begin. First, a voice at the door, “MOM?!” “Yup!” I’d respond. “Can I come in?” my little Savannah would innocently ask. “Nope” I’d calmly reply and close my eyes, just waiting to melt the day away with a new vision of what lie ahead and what I hoped to create tomorrow. About 10 seconds or so would pass and another arrival at the door would startle me back into reality. “MOM! I have to go to the bathroom!!” This from my 5 year old. “Sorry Nicky, you’ll have to go downstairs – mommy’s taking a bath.” That should do it. Now, if only I could get just 10 minutes alone with my thoughts…”Yea, but I can’t go downstairs – there’s a scary spido (spider) down dere (down there)!! “Alright Nick, just a minute.” I grab my towel, hastily rush to the door and fling it open, only to be greeted by 3 faces starring up at me. My 2 youngest burst into giggles while chiding, “mommy’s naked!!” followed by my sweet Ben who busts into the bathroom to make certain that (heaven forbid) I’m not trying to enjoy some relaxing music with my soak. He quickly pushes me aside to check the radio and without skipping a beat unplugs it if it’s plugged in (kids with autism are often very sensitive to sounds and music and Ben is one of them).
“Well, I tried” I’d say to console myself. In fact I tried several times night after night to establish and enjoy this little ritual only to be met with some variation of that same interruption episode. I finally decided that the short 10 minutes I would hope to enjoy in the tub was not worth the set up before hand to make certain that everyone was toileted, watered and secure in their own activities (lest a fight break out over a book, toy or piece of food). This just isn’t going to work. At least not right now.
Here’s the consolation. These amazing little children that God has so graciously blessed me with are growing faster than I could have ever imagined possible. While this time in my life lends to very little recreation or social time (then there’s that silly word “balance”) I know that in life there truly is very little “balance” to be had.
I recently finished a book that clarified things for me in this area and made me feel less abnormal for not striking this mysterious “balance” that I hear so much about. The author talked about the fact that truly in any area of life when you’re looking to achieve things, those areas require focus. So, for example if you’ve got a project at work and you’re on a strict deadline to complete it, your focused energy will be placed there, and you’ll let some of the other aspects of your job fall to the back burner. Not that you’ll neglect them completely, but you’ll give them less attention until you’ve got this time sensitive project completed.
Once that particular thing is done – you’ll move on and pick up again some of your other, less time sensitive details until the next “project” comes up. When there are particular goals in front of us or things we aspire to that will add to and enhance our lives in some way, we tend to get very focused in that area as well, at least for a short time until we’ve either accomplished our goal, or something comes along that distracts us and we shift gears. Either way, it’s more about striking chords of “harmony” in life rather than “balance.” When harmony occurs, there are small hints of lots of interesting components in our lives. When I think of the word “harmony” I think of a symphony playing a beautiful musical composition with gentle hints of tones that move in and out of concentration, barely detectible at one point, yet coming to a crescendo later in the melody. All of these fine details that move in and out of concentration weaving a landscape in your mind and evoking emotion throughout the piece – these notes are rarely balanced – but they have the ability to creating the most beautiful art.
When I think about this in terms of being a parent with young children I think of it as a “season” in life. As we move through various stages with our kids, some things come to a “crescendo” while other things take a backseat. But that’s how it’s supposed to work. We trade sleepless nights when their infants, for sleepless nights when they’re teenagers – for different reasons, but It’s all part of the process. We find ourselves so incensed with the endless barrage of questions and commentary by our young children to the point that we sigh and roll our eyes when for the fourth time we’ve been asked the same question in 30 seconds (OK, maybe that’s just me) but there will come a time when they won’t feel the need to ask because they’ll think they know it all, and our years of knowledge and life’s experience will become nothing more to them than an irritation.
So, is it possible to embrace this idea of creating “harmony” in our lives with our kids rather than chasing the elusive idea of “balance”? I’m not sure, but I’m willing to give it a try. I’m looking to master the concept of enjoying the present moment, rather than constantly catapulting myself into the future in my mind. If I can learn to take each day – exclusively as it is. With its God given blessings, along with its “opportunities for growth” (i.e. “problems”) than it might be easier to enjoy the beauty of the melody that’s currently playing, rather than trying to hurry to write a new song. Does that make sense?
I never want to look back on this time in my life and regret the fact that I was always looking “forward” to when things would get “easier” with the kids. The truth is that my kids are healthy, secure and seemingly pretty happy! That’s a huge accomplishment! As for me, I’m working on learning more and more each day to entrench myself in the blessings of all that is right and good in our lives. All the rich relationships, opportunities and experiences we have available every single day. And when those days come where it seems like the kids have purposefully plotted some evil plan to drive me to the outer fringes, I’ll reel myself back in with a quick (or sometimes not so quick) phone call to my sister, or to a friend with a sympathetic ear.
No one said raising children was easy. If they did, they paid someone else to do it for them. It’s our job to strike harmony and enjoy the beauty of the music, whether the melody takes a turn and moves us to tears, or it brings us to a place of lighthearted joy – either way it’s intended to leave us richer, more- well rounded, and ultimately inspired.
Monday, July 7, 2008
Do yourself a favor - THANK THEM!
Hi! I’m back. I’m so sorry it’s been a while since my last post. Since we last spoke, I’ve been on a mission’s trip to Guatemala and have started a new venture into physical health, became part of a personal coaching group and started a 7 week intense therapy program for my 10 year old son Ben who is fighting Autism -more on all that later.
I wanted for us to reconnect again and get back into the game on “Independence Day” weekend.
Freedom. What does that word mean to you? How do you define it? How does it play into your life?
I don’t know about you (feel free to tell me) but freedom I think has to be my strongest value. Everything we ever desire to do hinges on freedom – doesn’t it? Think about it. What are you without free expression? The way you worship the job you have or the work you chose to do, the people you surround yourself with, the way you present yourself to the world – it all requires freedom. Even the way you eat, dress and express yourself through music choices, art and literature! You can’t have any of it if you’re not free to obtain it and use it! Isn’t that amazing?
Poverty is nothing more than a lie that binds – a lack of freedom. For those that suffer through illness and disease, these states often render them unable to do the things they want to do – a confinement (lack of freedom). A poor education or the lack of an education is a lack of knowledge. Knowledge is power. Why? Because when you have knowledge you have the ability to make informed (and hopefully) wise choices about yourself and your life!
I’m going to argue that freedom is everything.
So, who’s responsible for all of our freedom? How is it that we find ourselves so blessed to have the freedom to work a job, go to church, listen to the music we want, eat what we want and say whatever we want about the offices of government that make it all possible? Of course, it’s the visionaries and unconventional thinkers that wrote up their visions for our freedoms – but more importantly it’s the incredible men and women who go out there in the dark, unpredictable and lonely world of military service.
It matters not one single bit how you feel about the war right now. Put that aside. I want to know – honestly how grateful are you? Have you ever seen a man or woman in fatigues at an airport or even a grocery store and stopped to shake their hand to thank them? If not, why not?!
Imagine if everyone felt like everyone else about military conflict, or war in general? Do you think this country would exist? Never. It’s easy to talk a big game but can you imagine the kind of person that it takes to literally lay down their life for you – A PERFECT STRAGER because they feel a call to do it? It simply amazes me. They are literally walking into the unknown.
Here’s what enrages me – THE LACK OF GRATITUDE that these extraordinary individuals receive. I traveled in and out of Colorado Springs last week (home to the Air force Academy) and I saw dozens of military personnel coming and going.
I was particularly mortified not only by the fact that no one smiled at them, or stopped to shake their hand and thank them – but at the hassle they got in the security line! Are you kidding me? One gentleman was bringing his fiancé through the line with him and they barely made it through. They got drilled, hassled and she barely made it to see him off at his gate. That was rough, but only second to the run around a young man got trying to get to his gate. This guy was everything but strip searched!! The young man was new. I could tell. He was not used to traveling and was a bit nervous to begin with. He gets pulled over, everything pulled out of his bag, his cigarettes taken away, his other bag confiscated AND patted down. Hello! It’s called profiling people! Did the security staff honestly think he was a threat? A young American man in his early twenties, with a buzz cut in US issued fatigues and US issued duffle bag with matching US government ID badge which happened to look JUST LIKE HIM -and he’s a security risk?? As you can probably tell I think “random” searches are bogus. I was “randomly” searched when I was seven months pregnant and was going to be late getting onto that plane – when I finally just lifted up my shirt, exposed by huge shiny belly and said, “Its real – OK? Can I go?”
I was downright embarrassed for us watching this happen to our few and our proud. I was embarrassed for an American culture that can take the time to call into vote for their favorite “idol” but can’t tip their hat to a man willing to die because his country has asked him to defend your right to criticize the war. People actually look at these guys like they’ve got a communicable disease. What’s the matter with us in this country? How about some gratitude?
I was on a flight about a year ago in which many military personal were being deployed to a short training before going over sees. I got on the plane and began the process of minding my own business and pretending no one else existed (like we all do when we get on a plane and search for our seat and a tiny storage place for our entire life). I finally got myself situated, book and notebook in hand and sat down. As I glanced up to see with which I’d be sharing the flight, I noticed that one by one these incredible men in fatigues began walking down the aisle. No one, not one single person shot them a smile – intentionally made a friendly gesture or even said “hello.” Certainly no one paid one ounce of respect. We’re all too sophisticated and politically correct for that. Right? Shameful.
I stood up in my seat, but my junk in the seat next to me (no, no one was seated there yet) and one by one extended my hand to shake theirs, looked them square in the eyes, smiled and said loudly and proudly, “Thank you for your Service!” They were shocked. Each one of them looked stunned as they extended their hand, respectfully, nodded and said, “thank you ma’am.”
Wow. I was proud. I was proud of them, proud to be an American, and proud of myself for doing what I knew to be right despite what any other windbag on that plane thought of it.
That act had benefits all the way around. I got a chance to express my gratitude, and they got a minuscule amount – just one gesture of thanks – but here’s something else…that small, simple gesture must of meant something to a few of them.
I got up mid flight to go to the bathroom after having held it WAY to long (I do that, because otherwise I end up hopping up at least 2, often 3 times a flight to run to the powder – uh - coffin) and who did I end up standing right behind in line? Three of the gentlemen that I had earlier greeted. The line was about 7 people long so the first guy had at least 4 people to wait for. I settled into my crossed legged stance, took a deep breath and started to people watch, when suddenly the gentleman in front of me turned to glance and noticed me. He took a double take and smiled (remembering me from our earlier encounter). This young soldier tilted his hat and said, “please ma’am” and gestured for me to move in front of him in line. That wasn’t all. The two gentlemen in fatigues in front of him heard him, turned to see what was going on and again nodded with that soldier-like military nod and a smile and waved me in front of them! “Please ma’am, go ahead.” “Oh, thank you so much! No, I couldn’t I really appreciate it, but it’s a long flight for all of us.”
“Please, I insist ma’am go ahead” was the response with a big smile from the gentlemen closest to the front of the line! I said, “thank you! Thanks guys!” and proudly took my new place in the front of that little potty line.
I felt great. This wasn’t the biggest deal in the world. It was being led closer to the front of the line for the bathroom. I get it. But, clearly these young men were not used to being treated with respect and they were obliged to return the favor. Isn’t this how it’s supposed to be?
May I issue a personal challenge? I’ve taught my kids to do this – and yes I do this myself…when you see a man or woman in military fatigues please go up to them and simply say, “thank you for your service.”
You ARE grateful – aren’t you? So why not show it? Our military does not feel supported by the vast population in this country and they’re down right hated in many other countries (not that we should care, after all we’ll be the FIRST ones they cry out to when they need help of any kind – and we’ll be the first and most generous to respond).
How do I know? I have 3 extremely brave cousins that are Marines. One of them is sitting in Iraq right now willing to give his life for you – because his country asked him to. Again, this has nothing to do with how you feel about the war – or even how he feels about it. I’m just saying these young men and women in uniform…and Jesus are the only people I know brave enough to die for someone who doesn’t believe in them. How will you honor them?
I wanted for us to reconnect again and get back into the game on “Independence Day” weekend.
Freedom. What does that word mean to you? How do you define it? How does it play into your life?
I don’t know about you (feel free to tell me) but freedom I think has to be my strongest value. Everything we ever desire to do hinges on freedom – doesn’t it? Think about it. What are you without free expression? The way you worship the job you have or the work you chose to do, the people you surround yourself with, the way you present yourself to the world – it all requires freedom. Even the way you eat, dress and express yourself through music choices, art and literature! You can’t have any of it if you’re not free to obtain it and use it! Isn’t that amazing?
Poverty is nothing more than a lie that binds – a lack of freedom. For those that suffer through illness and disease, these states often render them unable to do the things they want to do – a confinement (lack of freedom). A poor education or the lack of an education is a lack of knowledge. Knowledge is power. Why? Because when you have knowledge you have the ability to make informed (and hopefully) wise choices about yourself and your life!
I’m going to argue that freedom is everything.
So, who’s responsible for all of our freedom? How is it that we find ourselves so blessed to have the freedom to work a job, go to church, listen to the music we want, eat what we want and say whatever we want about the offices of government that make it all possible? Of course, it’s the visionaries and unconventional thinkers that wrote up their visions for our freedoms – but more importantly it’s the incredible men and women who go out there in the dark, unpredictable and lonely world of military service.
It matters not one single bit how you feel about the war right now. Put that aside. I want to know – honestly how grateful are you? Have you ever seen a man or woman in fatigues at an airport or even a grocery store and stopped to shake their hand to thank them? If not, why not?!
Imagine if everyone felt like everyone else about military conflict, or war in general? Do you think this country would exist? Never. It’s easy to talk a big game but can you imagine the kind of person that it takes to literally lay down their life for you – A PERFECT STRAGER because they feel a call to do it? It simply amazes me. They are literally walking into the unknown.
Here’s what enrages me – THE LACK OF GRATITUDE that these extraordinary individuals receive. I traveled in and out of Colorado Springs last week (home to the Air force Academy) and I saw dozens of military personnel coming and going.
I was particularly mortified not only by the fact that no one smiled at them, or stopped to shake their hand and thank them – but at the hassle they got in the security line! Are you kidding me? One gentleman was bringing his fiancé through the line with him and they barely made it through. They got drilled, hassled and she barely made it to see him off at his gate. That was rough, but only second to the run around a young man got trying to get to his gate. This guy was everything but strip searched!! The young man was new. I could tell. He was not used to traveling and was a bit nervous to begin with. He gets pulled over, everything pulled out of his bag, his cigarettes taken away, his other bag confiscated AND patted down. Hello! It’s called profiling people! Did the security staff honestly think he was a threat? A young American man in his early twenties, with a buzz cut in US issued fatigues and US issued duffle bag with matching US government ID badge which happened to look JUST LIKE HIM -and he’s a security risk?? As you can probably tell I think “random” searches are bogus. I was “randomly” searched when I was seven months pregnant and was going to be late getting onto that plane – when I finally just lifted up my shirt, exposed by huge shiny belly and said, “Its real – OK? Can I go?”
I was downright embarrassed for us watching this happen to our few and our proud. I was embarrassed for an American culture that can take the time to call into vote for their favorite “idol” but can’t tip their hat to a man willing to die because his country has asked him to defend your right to criticize the war. People actually look at these guys like they’ve got a communicable disease. What’s the matter with us in this country? How about some gratitude?
I was on a flight about a year ago in which many military personal were being deployed to a short training before going over sees. I got on the plane and began the process of minding my own business and pretending no one else existed (like we all do when we get on a plane and search for our seat and a tiny storage place for our entire life). I finally got myself situated, book and notebook in hand and sat down. As I glanced up to see with which I’d be sharing the flight, I noticed that one by one these incredible men in fatigues began walking down the aisle. No one, not one single person shot them a smile – intentionally made a friendly gesture or even said “hello.” Certainly no one paid one ounce of respect. We’re all too sophisticated and politically correct for that. Right? Shameful.
I stood up in my seat, but my junk in the seat next to me (no, no one was seated there yet) and one by one extended my hand to shake theirs, looked them square in the eyes, smiled and said loudly and proudly, “Thank you for your Service!” They were shocked. Each one of them looked stunned as they extended their hand, respectfully, nodded and said, “thank you ma’am.”
Wow. I was proud. I was proud of them, proud to be an American, and proud of myself for doing what I knew to be right despite what any other windbag on that plane thought of it.
That act had benefits all the way around. I got a chance to express my gratitude, and they got a minuscule amount – just one gesture of thanks – but here’s something else…that small, simple gesture must of meant something to a few of them.
I got up mid flight to go to the bathroom after having held it WAY to long (I do that, because otherwise I end up hopping up at least 2, often 3 times a flight to run to the powder – uh - coffin) and who did I end up standing right behind in line? Three of the gentlemen that I had earlier greeted. The line was about 7 people long so the first guy had at least 4 people to wait for. I settled into my crossed legged stance, took a deep breath and started to people watch, when suddenly the gentleman in front of me turned to glance and noticed me. He took a double take and smiled (remembering me from our earlier encounter). This young soldier tilted his hat and said, “please ma’am” and gestured for me to move in front of him in line. That wasn’t all. The two gentlemen in fatigues in front of him heard him, turned to see what was going on and again nodded with that soldier-like military nod and a smile and waved me in front of them! “Please ma’am, go ahead.” “Oh, thank you so much! No, I couldn’t I really appreciate it, but it’s a long flight for all of us.”
“Please, I insist ma’am go ahead” was the response with a big smile from the gentlemen closest to the front of the line! I said, “thank you! Thanks guys!” and proudly took my new place in the front of that little potty line.
I felt great. This wasn’t the biggest deal in the world. It was being led closer to the front of the line for the bathroom. I get it. But, clearly these young men were not used to being treated with respect and they were obliged to return the favor. Isn’t this how it’s supposed to be?
May I issue a personal challenge? I’ve taught my kids to do this – and yes I do this myself…when you see a man or woman in military fatigues please go up to them and simply say, “thank you for your service.”
You ARE grateful – aren’t you? So why not show it? Our military does not feel supported by the vast population in this country and they’re down right hated in many other countries (not that we should care, after all we’ll be the FIRST ones they cry out to when they need help of any kind – and we’ll be the first and most generous to respond).
How do I know? I have 3 extremely brave cousins that are Marines. One of them is sitting in Iraq right now willing to give his life for you – because his country asked him to. Again, this has nothing to do with how you feel about the war – or even how he feels about it. I’m just saying these young men and women in uniform…and Jesus are the only people I know brave enough to die for someone who doesn’t believe in them. How will you honor them?
Thursday, May 1, 2008
"Good Mom"
I’m a good mom. I’m a really good mom. In fact, I’m a great mom (just go with me on this….I’m feeling like I REALLY need to repeat this to myself several times tonight – maybe if I say it often enough I will “will” it into existence). OK, I have a better idea. “Dear God – make me a patient, meek, graceful mother to my children.”
I yelled at my oldest son tonight. Actually, I would be accurate in saying – I SCREAMED at him. I yelled so loudly, I think I actually strained my vocal chords. I’ll be surprised if I wake up with any voice at all in the morning. I am NOT proud.
I absolutely hate yelling. I really do not yell very often at all. But when I do I sometimes surprise myself. I really have to be upset to get loud in a frustrated or angry way with my kids. As badly as I despise “yelling” – sometimes…truthfully - it’s effective.
It sort of reminds me of being a kid and watching rain roll in off in the distance, thinking the storm is miles away. You stay outside as long as you can, watch the skies begin to turn different shades of blue, dark blue, a deep purple…some of the clouds remain white and fluffy while others become jagged and ominous. Just as you’re feeling brave and “edgy” for remaining out of doors knowing you probably should be inside…just then – CRASH!! That loud, sharp, deafening bang of thunder that surges directly through you. You don’t even think – your body reacts the way God intended it to when in danger…it RUNS! So fast, you don’t even how you got through that screen door, but somehow that loud, powerful noise inspired something in you that changed the light hearted adventure into a very sobering survival moment.
I think that’s why yelling is effective. No matter who’s doing or for what reason. I didn’t say it’s always GOOD. But it does get one’s attention – quickly.
I’m a mom who loves to maintain a loving, comfortable, funny and safe environment in my home…so what gives? Why did I get so angry with an 11 year old? Could it be fear?
I think yelling is nothing more than an emotional explosion that is more likely than not – totally unplanned. Don’t most people apologize after yelling? Of course! I was really mad at my son. He pushed me, and he knew it. He was being defiant, and for that he needed discipline. But, what did it spark in me that inspired this emotional explosion? I mean, I was fighting to restrain myself from blurting out the old…”common – its go time! You wanna piece of me??!!” Hello? Yes, praying and blessing my children one moment, going gangsta’ on my 11 year old the next. This was NOT a move of the Holy Spirit.
I think it was fear. I think when we yell at our kids, it’s really because there’s a place deep inside of us that is afraid of the behavior we see, or what the behavior may become in the future. It’s not easy being the mom and the dad. It’s hard. I have to be careful with my sons especially because these cute boys, will soon be towering men – and little ole’ me (there’s a reason I have a shelf full of martial arts trophy’s – I’m no dummy, I at least wanna look tough). I pray for God’s grace daily. Where would I be without it? That being said, when I see certain behaviors in my kids that crop up here and there I’m first inclined to anger, rather than meek and gentle correction. I see down the road where disobedience can land a little person, when they’re not so little anymore. Because of my son Ben and his intensive autism therapy, I learned behavior modification from an expert when Ben was 2 ½. We learn to shape desirable behaviors and “extinguish” undesirable behaviors. But there’s something about when your child knows better and makes the choice – just to see what happens. That’s what we call “testing.” It’s not the actual behavior that makes me angry, it’s the fact that my son chose it.
I’m going to go out on a limb here and just tell you that despite what many child experts say – I’m going say a good “hollering” now and then when a child becomes defiant is a good thing. Remember that loud clap of thunder? I don’t know about you, but even now as big and brave and “adult” as I think I am, when the pitter patter of the rain on the windows is followed by a loud and soul penetrating bang of thunder – I shriek and duck. It’s just instinctive. It reminds me who’s boss. Not me. It reminds me how small I am, and how powerful and awesome God Almighty is. It reminds me that under His wing I remain safe and protected, but outside in the storm…I’m lost.
I think sending this message to my kids now and again isn’t all that bad. No, I don’t plan to schedule a good dose of yelling every third Thursday of the month and call it a “life lesson.” I’m just going to forgive myself, and notice that it’s out of love and protection for the well being of my kids that I sometimes allow my anger to show.
A few weeks ago my sister and two of my aunts went to a home schooling conference that I couldn’t attend. Before they left, my sister asked me if I wanted her to pick up a CD or something for me. After looking at the scheduling, I giggled and in a very sarcastic way said, “Yea, pick up that ‘teaching with a meek and quiet spirit’ session!!” What a brat. I even commented as to whether or not that would be right next to the “bake your own bread from scratch” session. I thought I was as funny as could be – very “hip” very “now” and WAY to “cool momish” to be interested in how to teach in a “meek” and “quiet” manner. Not my style. Guess what. Joke was on me. Those three came back, and I heard RAVE reviews about how to keep your cool while dealing with your kids. No more yelling! I was contrite and so over myself that I actually poured over my aunts notes and asked her to teach me everything she had learned. She did. I was a great student, and for 2 whole weeks…no yelling. It was very nice and very peaceful. I doled out consequences for broken rules and disobedient behavior. I lavished over nice behavior and cooperative play. It worked. It always does. Yet, here I am confessing to losing my cool.
Here’s the interesting thing. I’m not alone. I know you’ve done it too. If you’re human, and you have children…you’ve yelled. You probably regretted it most of the time. But sometimes, it may have been exactly what your kids needed to remind them that they are not in charge and that there is a place in you that will not tolerate or allow harmful or defiant behavior – and that you’re passionate about it!
I trust that my son understands that I love him more than life itself. I’ve told him so. I also know that what he’ll remember as he gets older is not “my mom sometimes yelled at me.” He’ll remember that his mother would not compromise when it came to character. He will grow to understand that being his buddy and friend would have been easy and cool – but dangerous. He will appreciate that what he needed was a strong, confident and loving parent, but one that wouldn’t waver when it came to breaking rules or disrespecting authority. Does it hurt at the time? Yea. I saw the fear of God in His eyes and he backed down ‘right quick’ when he saw my anger. I felt guilty of course right afterward. But here’s another confession – I’m glad I did it. I’m glad I yelled. I’m glad that when I went down the stairs to silently kiss him good night on the forehead in the dark, he whispered “love you mom. I’m sorry.” I’m glad that even though it scared him for the moment – he just possibly feels a bit safer, more secure and more protected because he knows he’s got safe boundaries and limits that I won’t let him cross.
No matter how many techniques in behavior modification I learn, no matter how many books I read or seminars I listen to on “good parenting” or “scream free homes” I can practically guarantee that I’ll yell again. I’m human, and after all – the parent to child ratio around here is 4:1. But the divine in me who made me in His likeness and image and who allowed me these 4 extraordinary individuals will continue to pour out grace on me and guide me.
Much like God is a loving parent prone to “righteous indignation” a loving parent does what he or she can within reason to protect and guide their child. My goal is to make certain that since “more is caught, than taught” my focus and attention needs to be on how my children see me treat OTHERS. I must be a woman of my word. A woman of integrity. They need to hear me confess my weaknesses and ask them for forgiveness if necessary. I must watch the conversations that my children hear me have with others, including and most importantly with God.
I yelled at my oldest son tonight. Actually, I would be accurate in saying – I SCREAMED at him. I yelled so loudly, I think I actually strained my vocal chords. I’ll be surprised if I wake up with any voice at all in the morning. I am NOT proud.
I absolutely hate yelling. I really do not yell very often at all. But when I do I sometimes surprise myself. I really have to be upset to get loud in a frustrated or angry way with my kids. As badly as I despise “yelling” – sometimes…truthfully - it’s effective.
It sort of reminds me of being a kid and watching rain roll in off in the distance, thinking the storm is miles away. You stay outside as long as you can, watch the skies begin to turn different shades of blue, dark blue, a deep purple…some of the clouds remain white and fluffy while others become jagged and ominous. Just as you’re feeling brave and “edgy” for remaining out of doors knowing you probably should be inside…just then – CRASH!! That loud, sharp, deafening bang of thunder that surges directly through you. You don’t even think – your body reacts the way God intended it to when in danger…it RUNS! So fast, you don’t even how you got through that screen door, but somehow that loud, powerful noise inspired something in you that changed the light hearted adventure into a very sobering survival moment.
I think that’s why yelling is effective. No matter who’s doing or for what reason. I didn’t say it’s always GOOD. But it does get one’s attention – quickly.
I’m a mom who loves to maintain a loving, comfortable, funny and safe environment in my home…so what gives? Why did I get so angry with an 11 year old? Could it be fear?
I think yelling is nothing more than an emotional explosion that is more likely than not – totally unplanned. Don’t most people apologize after yelling? Of course! I was really mad at my son. He pushed me, and he knew it. He was being defiant, and for that he needed discipline. But, what did it spark in me that inspired this emotional explosion? I mean, I was fighting to restrain myself from blurting out the old…”common – its go time! You wanna piece of me??!!” Hello? Yes, praying and blessing my children one moment, going gangsta’ on my 11 year old the next. This was NOT a move of the Holy Spirit.
I think it was fear. I think when we yell at our kids, it’s really because there’s a place deep inside of us that is afraid of the behavior we see, or what the behavior may become in the future. It’s not easy being the mom and the dad. It’s hard. I have to be careful with my sons especially because these cute boys, will soon be towering men – and little ole’ me (there’s a reason I have a shelf full of martial arts trophy’s – I’m no dummy, I at least wanna look tough). I pray for God’s grace daily. Where would I be without it? That being said, when I see certain behaviors in my kids that crop up here and there I’m first inclined to anger, rather than meek and gentle correction. I see down the road where disobedience can land a little person, when they’re not so little anymore. Because of my son Ben and his intensive autism therapy, I learned behavior modification from an expert when Ben was 2 ½. We learn to shape desirable behaviors and “extinguish” undesirable behaviors. But there’s something about when your child knows better and makes the choice – just to see what happens. That’s what we call “testing.” It’s not the actual behavior that makes me angry, it’s the fact that my son chose it.
I’m going to go out on a limb here and just tell you that despite what many child experts say – I’m going say a good “hollering” now and then when a child becomes defiant is a good thing. Remember that loud clap of thunder? I don’t know about you, but even now as big and brave and “adult” as I think I am, when the pitter patter of the rain on the windows is followed by a loud and soul penetrating bang of thunder – I shriek and duck. It’s just instinctive. It reminds me who’s boss. Not me. It reminds me how small I am, and how powerful and awesome God Almighty is. It reminds me that under His wing I remain safe and protected, but outside in the storm…I’m lost.
I think sending this message to my kids now and again isn’t all that bad. No, I don’t plan to schedule a good dose of yelling every third Thursday of the month and call it a “life lesson.” I’m just going to forgive myself, and notice that it’s out of love and protection for the well being of my kids that I sometimes allow my anger to show.
A few weeks ago my sister and two of my aunts went to a home schooling conference that I couldn’t attend. Before they left, my sister asked me if I wanted her to pick up a CD or something for me. After looking at the scheduling, I giggled and in a very sarcastic way said, “Yea, pick up that ‘teaching with a meek and quiet spirit’ session!!” What a brat. I even commented as to whether or not that would be right next to the “bake your own bread from scratch” session. I thought I was as funny as could be – very “hip” very “now” and WAY to “cool momish” to be interested in how to teach in a “meek” and “quiet” manner. Not my style. Guess what. Joke was on me. Those three came back, and I heard RAVE reviews about how to keep your cool while dealing with your kids. No more yelling! I was contrite and so over myself that I actually poured over my aunts notes and asked her to teach me everything she had learned. She did. I was a great student, and for 2 whole weeks…no yelling. It was very nice and very peaceful. I doled out consequences for broken rules and disobedient behavior. I lavished over nice behavior and cooperative play. It worked. It always does. Yet, here I am confessing to losing my cool.
Here’s the interesting thing. I’m not alone. I know you’ve done it too. If you’re human, and you have children…you’ve yelled. You probably regretted it most of the time. But sometimes, it may have been exactly what your kids needed to remind them that they are not in charge and that there is a place in you that will not tolerate or allow harmful or defiant behavior – and that you’re passionate about it!
I trust that my son understands that I love him more than life itself. I’ve told him so. I also know that what he’ll remember as he gets older is not “my mom sometimes yelled at me.” He’ll remember that his mother would not compromise when it came to character. He will grow to understand that being his buddy and friend would have been easy and cool – but dangerous. He will appreciate that what he needed was a strong, confident and loving parent, but one that wouldn’t waver when it came to breaking rules or disrespecting authority. Does it hurt at the time? Yea. I saw the fear of God in His eyes and he backed down ‘right quick’ when he saw my anger. I felt guilty of course right afterward. But here’s another confession – I’m glad I did it. I’m glad I yelled. I’m glad that when I went down the stairs to silently kiss him good night on the forehead in the dark, he whispered “love you mom. I’m sorry.” I’m glad that even though it scared him for the moment – he just possibly feels a bit safer, more secure and more protected because he knows he’s got safe boundaries and limits that I won’t let him cross.
No matter how many techniques in behavior modification I learn, no matter how many books I read or seminars I listen to on “good parenting” or “scream free homes” I can practically guarantee that I’ll yell again. I’m human, and after all – the parent to child ratio around here is 4:1. But the divine in me who made me in His likeness and image and who allowed me these 4 extraordinary individuals will continue to pour out grace on me and guide me.
Much like God is a loving parent prone to “righteous indignation” a loving parent does what he or she can within reason to protect and guide their child. My goal is to make certain that since “more is caught, than taught” my focus and attention needs to be on how my children see me treat OTHERS. I must be a woman of my word. A woman of integrity. They need to hear me confess my weaknesses and ask them for forgiveness if necessary. I must watch the conversations that my children hear me have with others, including and most importantly with God.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
All the games
Samuel was 3 years old. It was getting late as usual and I STILL hadn’t gotten him into bed. This was about the age when Samuel would begin to actually REMEMBER to brush his teeth before bed, but usually only when it was getting really late and I’d be desperately trying to “settle him down.”
So, Samuel had begun to become very diligent about picking out just the right pajamas, having the night light on and having the door cracked just exactly that 5 inches or so (just enough to see when mommy or daddy were coming down the hall so he could flatten like a pancake, shut his eyes and play dead if we came to “check” on him).
After the second trip to the bathroom, and a ½ glass of water, Samuel was insistent on reading another story because the first was “too short.” At that point, completely exhausted from chasing the whirlwind that was young motherhood with 2 little boys 15 months apart and one little boy (Ben) who at this point appeared to be nocturnal, I walked out to go get Dan in the hopes that he could give this bedtime thing t a whirl.
Dan walked into the kid’s bedroom and said “Look Samuel, tonight we’re going to go to bed. We’re not going to play games.” Samuel, being highly intelligent and equally animated stood straight up, spread his tiny fingers at the end of his little hands, looked directly up with his big sky blue eyes and while waving his hands back and forth as if preparing to pull a rabbit out of a hat, exclaimed, “Oh…I’m gonna play AAALLLLLLLL the games!!”
Wow. “Well” I thought, “at least he’s honest.” That hasn’t changed. The games haven’t either. In fact, here’s something weird; either playing the “games” is in fact a genetic condition, and each and everyone one of my four children inherited the “games” gene, or this is common among a vast majority of children.
My four adorable little creatures actually really do have a secret sixth sense. We all know that moms have keen intuition and just KNOW when something weird, wrong, or strange is happening with our kids but I hadn’t realized for quite some time that these little people have a very similar sense.
For example: I work from home. Talking on the phone is an important part of how I earn a living. It’s what I do when I’m “working” from home. I type on my computer, and talk on the phone. My kids know that. It’s been this way for years. Nothing’s changed.
However, most adults are on the phone at various times for various reasons. While not every phone call I take, or make is part of my “work”, It appears that my kids can detect exactly how important each call is - and to varying degrees. I’m not sure if it’s my body language, the fact that I try to “occupy” them busily while preparing for a scheduled call, or the fact that I often beg and plead on bended knee for a silent, and injury free 30 minutes. Whatever the case – as soon as that phone goes up to my ear…..let the games begin!!
Each and every time I’m on an important call whether it’s with one of Ben’s doctors, or a prospective client for my work, one of my children will have become injured, endure hurt feelings, need to tell something extremely important about one of their brothers or sisters, need help on the toilet, or have a life changing epiphany that they MUST share with me immediately.
The arguments inevitably begin about 3 or 4 minutes into the call. I start to pace, try to shoe them into another room and close my eyes in order to stay “in the zone” on my call. Oops, look at that – now one of the little ones has tried to pour themselves a cup of juice – and it’s gone down their arm instead of into the cup. Thank the good Lord above for the “mute” button! I say in hyper-speed auctioneer style….”did I say you could have juice? What are you doing?? UUHH! Please, go downstairs and play!”
With that I think I’ve got things under control – for about 2 minutes, just as I’m back into the full swing of my conversation – really thinking I’ve got this things mastered…and there it is. The shrill, high pitched SCREEAAM.
I run to by bedroom, shut the door behind me and start sweating – talking slightly louder now so as to try to drown out the background noise a story away.
Don’t think I’m callous. I don’t panic when I hear the scream, because it was not preceded by a loud clunk or thud – so I know no one is injured…..YET.
It’s only moments before they find me now – they know exactly where to look. Can I get out my sentence with grace and poise BEFORE slamming myself onto mute so as not to shell shock the person on the other phone when the tornado hits my bedroom door?
At this point, the games have truly only just begun. Now they’ve got me. Now they’re at the door and I’ve just been asked an important question for which I need to at least try to sum up an intelligent answer so, what are my choices? Well, there’s that awfully inviting window. The one I’ve thought of jumping out of on several occasions during times like this (don’t get too worried, it’s only one story up and at this point I wouldn’t risk jumping only to land in a pile of dog poop – one of the very piles that my oldest son promised he’d clean up 4 days ago) or there’s the more likely scenario of me literally trying to RUN past the noise – into the kitchen fast enough to open a box of popsicles and motion in my own secret sign language that only the “players” understand. It goes a little something like this: if they can manage to be quiet – they’ll get one…or 2….or 4 popsicles (depending on how long this conversation lasts).
While I’m circling around the house from room to room trying to stay quick enough so no one can catch me – but not so quick so that you sound out of breath – the very sweet little faces that I’m trying to out run, know exactly what I’m doing. And they take advantage of it.
They’ve got the TV on, my new wrapping paper completely unraveled, the cat dressed like a monkey and they’re now pretending to be cats themselves, complete with “snacks” in bowls on the ground next their little “water bowls” ON THE CARPET!
They learned pretty early on that I really can’t yell at them. Not the way I would when I’m fairly certain that only me and Jesus (and perhaps an unfortunate neighbor with an open window) can hear me. So, they will begin asking me questions in THEIR own secret silent language - mouthing words and suggestively shaking their heads yes while I absent mindedly agree with a reciprocal head shake – only to find out later I just gave them “permission” to turn on the garden hose and spray down the patio furniture AND each other!!
I am embarrassed to admit that on several occasions while having another conversation, I have actually opened packs of cookies or potato chips FOR my children that I’ve been handed, and in an amnesia-like state without even thinking about it opened them for my children – MULTIPLE TIMES. Did they ask if they could have cookies? No! But, they handed it to me for me to open for them. And I did.
So, is this learned behavior? Nope. It’s this pesky little thing called sin. And, it is indeed inherited. They were born with it. I was too. They’re just being human beings – trying to get what they WANT in life, but not necessarily what’s good for them.
Do I do this? I think so. I think I’m always on the lookout for a new “system” (game) that will help me achieve what I want in life – not necessarily what is best for me. As an adult I know I’m getting better at making decisions, but if I’m left to my impulses and if I’m operating in a mindset of “my” wants and desires while I think God is tied up helping everyone else at the moment – I’m headed for trouble.
The next best book, program, system, theory, mantra, prayer – you name it. It all looks great at the moment because I’m human…and seemingly rarely satisfied with what God has given me at this very moment. “But she’s got....” “But he’s doing….” “But they get too….” What must this sound like to God?
God is very busy at work. He needs our cooperation. He needs our assistance to accomplish enormous things not only in our own lives but in the lives of others. Can I be patient and quiet while following directions? Am I like a child – always busting into His work, trying to manipulate the timing of it all? Is there a very important reason why He needs me to wait or be “still” for a time being while He works diligently in the back drop of my life for the greater good? Hm. Me and my kids. We’re not so different.
Can I get my kids to “behave” like little angels every time I’m on the phone? Not sure about that, but I know one thing to be true – as they get older and more mature, they will begin to appreciate the work I did while they were small. They’ll see how it shaped all of our lives as a whole and how it allowed us to live the life we lived while they were young. They’ll understand why I needed them to be quiet, and it will all make sense to them. If only I could get them to see what I see. If only God could get us to see what He sees. How differently would we behave? How “urgent” would all those little things be that we needed, wanted, and had to do?
So, Samuel had begun to become very diligent about picking out just the right pajamas, having the night light on and having the door cracked just exactly that 5 inches or so (just enough to see when mommy or daddy were coming down the hall so he could flatten like a pancake, shut his eyes and play dead if we came to “check” on him).
After the second trip to the bathroom, and a ½ glass of water, Samuel was insistent on reading another story because the first was “too short.” At that point, completely exhausted from chasing the whirlwind that was young motherhood with 2 little boys 15 months apart and one little boy (Ben) who at this point appeared to be nocturnal, I walked out to go get Dan in the hopes that he could give this bedtime thing t a whirl.
Dan walked into the kid’s bedroom and said “Look Samuel, tonight we’re going to go to bed. We’re not going to play games.” Samuel, being highly intelligent and equally animated stood straight up, spread his tiny fingers at the end of his little hands, looked directly up with his big sky blue eyes and while waving his hands back and forth as if preparing to pull a rabbit out of a hat, exclaimed, “Oh…I’m gonna play AAALLLLLLLL the games!!”
Wow. “Well” I thought, “at least he’s honest.” That hasn’t changed. The games haven’t either. In fact, here’s something weird; either playing the “games” is in fact a genetic condition, and each and everyone one of my four children inherited the “games” gene, or this is common among a vast majority of children.
My four adorable little creatures actually really do have a secret sixth sense. We all know that moms have keen intuition and just KNOW when something weird, wrong, or strange is happening with our kids but I hadn’t realized for quite some time that these little people have a very similar sense.
For example: I work from home. Talking on the phone is an important part of how I earn a living. It’s what I do when I’m “working” from home. I type on my computer, and talk on the phone. My kids know that. It’s been this way for years. Nothing’s changed.
However, most adults are on the phone at various times for various reasons. While not every phone call I take, or make is part of my “work”, It appears that my kids can detect exactly how important each call is - and to varying degrees. I’m not sure if it’s my body language, the fact that I try to “occupy” them busily while preparing for a scheduled call, or the fact that I often beg and plead on bended knee for a silent, and injury free 30 minutes. Whatever the case – as soon as that phone goes up to my ear…..let the games begin!!
Each and every time I’m on an important call whether it’s with one of Ben’s doctors, or a prospective client for my work, one of my children will have become injured, endure hurt feelings, need to tell something extremely important about one of their brothers or sisters, need help on the toilet, or have a life changing epiphany that they MUST share with me immediately.
The arguments inevitably begin about 3 or 4 minutes into the call. I start to pace, try to shoe them into another room and close my eyes in order to stay “in the zone” on my call. Oops, look at that – now one of the little ones has tried to pour themselves a cup of juice – and it’s gone down their arm instead of into the cup. Thank the good Lord above for the “mute” button! I say in hyper-speed auctioneer style….”did I say you could have juice? What are you doing?? UUHH! Please, go downstairs and play!”
With that I think I’ve got things under control – for about 2 minutes, just as I’m back into the full swing of my conversation – really thinking I’ve got this things mastered…and there it is. The shrill, high pitched SCREEAAM.
I run to by bedroom, shut the door behind me and start sweating – talking slightly louder now so as to try to drown out the background noise a story away.
Don’t think I’m callous. I don’t panic when I hear the scream, because it was not preceded by a loud clunk or thud – so I know no one is injured…..YET.
It’s only moments before they find me now – they know exactly where to look. Can I get out my sentence with grace and poise BEFORE slamming myself onto mute so as not to shell shock the person on the other phone when the tornado hits my bedroom door?
At this point, the games have truly only just begun. Now they’ve got me. Now they’re at the door and I’ve just been asked an important question for which I need to at least try to sum up an intelligent answer so, what are my choices? Well, there’s that awfully inviting window. The one I’ve thought of jumping out of on several occasions during times like this (don’t get too worried, it’s only one story up and at this point I wouldn’t risk jumping only to land in a pile of dog poop – one of the very piles that my oldest son promised he’d clean up 4 days ago) or there’s the more likely scenario of me literally trying to RUN past the noise – into the kitchen fast enough to open a box of popsicles and motion in my own secret sign language that only the “players” understand. It goes a little something like this: if they can manage to be quiet – they’ll get one…or 2….or 4 popsicles (depending on how long this conversation lasts).
While I’m circling around the house from room to room trying to stay quick enough so no one can catch me – but not so quick so that you sound out of breath – the very sweet little faces that I’m trying to out run, know exactly what I’m doing. And they take advantage of it.
They’ve got the TV on, my new wrapping paper completely unraveled, the cat dressed like a monkey and they’re now pretending to be cats themselves, complete with “snacks” in bowls on the ground next their little “water bowls” ON THE CARPET!
They learned pretty early on that I really can’t yell at them. Not the way I would when I’m fairly certain that only me and Jesus (and perhaps an unfortunate neighbor with an open window) can hear me. So, they will begin asking me questions in THEIR own secret silent language - mouthing words and suggestively shaking their heads yes while I absent mindedly agree with a reciprocal head shake – only to find out later I just gave them “permission” to turn on the garden hose and spray down the patio furniture AND each other!!
I am embarrassed to admit that on several occasions while having another conversation, I have actually opened packs of cookies or potato chips FOR my children that I’ve been handed, and in an amnesia-like state without even thinking about it opened them for my children – MULTIPLE TIMES. Did they ask if they could have cookies? No! But, they handed it to me for me to open for them. And I did.
So, is this learned behavior? Nope. It’s this pesky little thing called sin. And, it is indeed inherited. They were born with it. I was too. They’re just being human beings – trying to get what they WANT in life, but not necessarily what’s good for them.
Do I do this? I think so. I think I’m always on the lookout for a new “system” (game) that will help me achieve what I want in life – not necessarily what is best for me. As an adult I know I’m getting better at making decisions, but if I’m left to my impulses and if I’m operating in a mindset of “my” wants and desires while I think God is tied up helping everyone else at the moment – I’m headed for trouble.
The next best book, program, system, theory, mantra, prayer – you name it. It all looks great at the moment because I’m human…and seemingly rarely satisfied with what God has given me at this very moment. “But she’s got....” “But he’s doing….” “But they get too….” What must this sound like to God?
God is very busy at work. He needs our cooperation. He needs our assistance to accomplish enormous things not only in our own lives but in the lives of others. Can I be patient and quiet while following directions? Am I like a child – always busting into His work, trying to manipulate the timing of it all? Is there a very important reason why He needs me to wait or be “still” for a time being while He works diligently in the back drop of my life for the greater good? Hm. Me and my kids. We’re not so different.
Can I get my kids to “behave” like little angels every time I’m on the phone? Not sure about that, but I know one thing to be true – as they get older and more mature, they will begin to appreciate the work I did while they were small. They’ll see how it shaped all of our lives as a whole and how it allowed us to live the life we lived while they were young. They’ll understand why I needed them to be quiet, and it will all make sense to them. If only I could get them to see what I see. If only God could get us to see what He sees. How differently would we behave? How “urgent” would all those little things be that we needed, wanted, and had to do?
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