Category: love

Showing Up

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“Please remember, it is what you are that heals, not what you know.” – Carl Jung

My ten-year-old daughter, Miss O, had a stomach bug this weekend. It hit hard on Friday night and then followed that typical 24 hour course where she felt miserable and threw up a half dozen times and then was mostly done.

When six-year-old Mr D realized that his sister wasn’t feeling well, he set out to make her his famous medium water. You know – not too hot and not too cold. In a lovely confluence where the one thing he knows how to make and the only thing she could keep down met, it was a beautiful gesture.

There was little else that Mr. D and I could do for her. She spent most of her day crying out in agony. Witnessing suffering like that makes me feel crummy. For me, helplessness usually turns into irritability. Fortunately, I was reminded of three things that I’ve heard/read lately:

From poet Mark Nepo, “… someone I love comes along in pain and I start dumping my pockets, looking for the one thing I know that will help them. But time and time again, the only thing they want is for me to open my heart like a sponge to them. They only want to be heard and held.” I swear my pockets are hanging out for how often I dig to try to find something to help only to learn this again and again.

When I talked with Sharon Eubank on the How to Share podcast she related some great lessons from her decades trying to help others as Global Director of Humanitarian Services for the LDS church. The one that really stuck with me was “My solution to your problem will always be wrong.” In this case, the foods that Miss O wanted to eat when she started to feel better wouldn’t have been my picks – but they worked for her.

And then in my most recent podcast conversation with author Amy Weinland Daughters she spoke of not knowing what to do for her friend, Dana, whose teenage son had cancer and then died. Amy started writing letters as a way to show up. She didn’t think it would make a difference but when Dana’s daughters asked Dana when she thought Amy would stop, Dana replied with something like, “I hope never.” We think what we are doing for someone who is suffering or grieving isn’t enough. But it does make a difference.

So I made an effort to pause my productivity efforts that made me feel like I was doing something by washing sheets and sanitizing bathrooms to just show up and stay present when Miss O cried out in pain and discomfort. I rubbed her back or her feet, told stories, and ordered more medium water from Mr. D. It really is what you are that heals. It’s all part of the magic of being there for someone.

(featured photo from Pexels)

You can find me on LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/wynneleon/ and Instagram @wynneleon

I host the How to Share podcast, a podcast celebrates the art of teaching, learning, giving, and growing.

I also co-host the Sharing the Heart of the Matter podcast, an author, creator and storytelling podcast with the amazing Vicki Atkinson.

Life Begins Now: The Parenting Trap

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“It still amazes me that we insist on teaching algebra to all students when only about 20 percent will ever use it and fail to teach anything about parenting when the vast majority of our students will become parents.” – Nel Noddings

My dad used to tell this joke: Three religious leaders were asked the question, “When does life begin?”

The Catholic priest said, “At conception.“

The Protestant pastor replied, “At birth.“

The Rabbi answered, “When the last kid goes to college and the dog dies.“

I’m laughing. Wow do I feel this. As a parent of young children, I do more things in a day that I wouldn’t choose to do than things I would choose. That alone can make me feel as if my life is not my own. Add in the noise and chaos and it’s hard to find peace. Taken all together, that can make this phase of life seem like one to rush through.

 But I know I can’t assume that I’ll be able to enjoy my kids when they are mature adults. I had my kids when I was aged 46 and then 50. When my youngest is 30, I’ll be 80-years-old. Hopefully an alive, healthy, and active 80 years old but nothing is a given. I know that’s true at any age.

So I try to flip the punchline and enjoy my kids, and life, now.

Cleaning up messes

Things in my house are spilled nearly every day. Sometimes by me. Often not very big deals like when a glass of milk with a top on spilled the other day. It just left a corona of milk dotting the carpet.

Here’s the thing I’ve realized. It’s a chance to convey to my dear children that I’ll love them when things are messy.

Bonus points: Longevity specialist Dr. Peter Attia includes getting up from the floor with max of one arm for support on his Centenarian Decathlon list. It includes the ten most important physical tasks you will want to be able to do for the rest of your life. Every time I’m down on the floor cleaning, I celebrate working out the strength and neuromuscular control that I need.

Helping with personal hygiene

It’s funny that kids don’t come with personal hygiene habits baked in. I’d prefer not to have to remind others to brush their teeth or wipe their tush. Add a dog, cat and a crested gecko in the mix and I can pretty much guarantee that most days will have some involvement in someone else’s hygiene.

I love this one because it’s foundational to my outlook. It’s forced me as a congenital optimist, to accept that every day is not going to be perfect, comfortable, or even pretty.

And long after I’m gone, I can trust my kids will have some idea of how to keep their bodies safe.

Bonus points: My personal hygiene has suffered as a parent. Kudos to me when I remember to take care of myself as well.

Feeding them

There are some days where I make food, clean up from making food, only to find that by that time, more food is already required.

But, whether real or metaphorical, I’d argue that giving others fuel to live by is what we are here for.

Bonus points: This is a reminder that cooking is all about exercising our creative muscles. How can I make something when I realize I’m missing an ingredient? How do I make something that’ll last with what I have?

Melt downs

Oh, those moments when big emotions take over and make us uncomfortable. And by us, I mean not only the person melting down but also everyone close at hand. It can be precarious, unpredictable, and draining. It’s also 100% real.

Recently, I took my kids rock climbing. My six-year-old son got stuck halfway up the rock face. He couldn’t find a way past – not moving right or left or shifting his weight. He started to cry. Since I was belaying him, there was nothing I could do except be there with him. And it was the perfect metaphor because I was connected to him by a rope.

From 40 feet away, I shouted up my empathy for his frustration, tried some suggestions, told him he could come down, emphasized that I knew he could do it – everything I could do to help from afar. Finally he shook it off. Then he managed the coolest move — palming the rock with his right hand and smearing the face with his left foot, he leveraged himself up high enough to the next good hold.

It was as rousing of a feat of personal triumph as I’ve ever witnessed.

Here’s where you get to pick your image: port in the storm, rope anchor on a mountain, sacred ground – you have the chance to be that for someone else. And to learn a little bit about what it kicks off in you as well. We don’t often get to see adults do that – the trying, melt down, return and overcoming is usually a longer (and more hidden) process for grown-up risks and triumphs. There is nothing as powerful as watching someone overcome some real adversity. With young kids we get to see that nearly every day.

And then we get to celebrate their success.

Bonus points: It’s hard to stay regulated when someone else is dysregulated. Whether it’s my verbal 10-year-old daughter talking grown-up sounding sass that covers for her childlike emotions underneath or a stranger at the store, I feel it all the way through. But all this practice is helping my central nervous system to be buff!

Distraction

When awake and nearby, my kids provide continual distraction. I could be inside sitting at my computer typing and instead I’m out in a creek skipping rocks. Or I could be sitting on the couch with my phone in hand texting and instead I’m having a dance party and moving my hips. I hunt for snails and hold my kids’ hands while they learn to hoverboard.

Oh, that’s right – I’ve never once regretted a dance party, a rock skipping contest, time in nature, or moving my body.

Bonus points. Psychologist Dr. Alison Gopnik says that kids have lantern brain. They see everything that is around. Adults have spotlight brain – we focus on what needs to be done. Switching into lantern brain can help us solve problems, be creative, and open us to new insights. The distractions can actually help us with solutions for our work when we return to it.

Invasion of personal space

Yesterday my six-year-old son stuffed something in the pocket of my jeans. Gah.  

I’m all for enforcing the boundaries necessary to maintain healthy relationships. But before I decide what those boundaries are, I consider that my kids embody what we look like as open creatures that assume other people will help you carry your stuff.

Bonus points: Ask someone else to help you carry your stuff.

Time

I’m the only one that cares about time in my house. Being on time, getting to bed, the school bell is about to ring, dinner time, time for annual physicals, or it’s about time. All of it.

Because I’m the one that understands time is limited.

Bonus points: Stop caring about the future and enjoy the now.

I’m not guaranteed to get to 80 years old. But I bet that if I do, parenting will have extended my healthspan so that I enjoy it more. And I know I’ll be glad that I didn’t wait until the kids went to college and the dog died to begin living.

(featured photo is mine)

You can find me on LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/wynneleon/ and Instagram @wynneleon

I host the How to Share podcast, a podcast about collaboration – sharing leads to success.

I also co-host the Sharing the Heart of the Matter podcast, an author, creator and storytelling podcast with the amazing Vicki Atkinson.

Touchstone

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“When it’s over, it’s the happy memories that hurt.” – unknown

“This car is packed with memories,” Miss O said as we pulled into the lot of the company we were selling it to.

I’d aimed to sell the car earlier in the day. But it was so old that the title was in my married name. Even with the proper documentation, it took longer than I’d anticipated so I had to return with my kids to finalize the deal.

Miss O was right – the car was packed with memories from the 18 years I owned it. And about a thousand goldfish crackers stuck in the cracks. We’d tried to get all the goldfish out but probably missed at least a dozen.

This was the car I’d trepidatiously drove Miss O home from the hospital in almost ten years ago. And made that same trip with Mr. D about six years ago filled with awe and a little bit of overwhelm. Speaking of family members, it was the car we picked up Cooper the dog in as a puppy two years ago. Miss O sat with him in a box on our lap in the back seat and explained the world, “This is a freeway. That is an airplane. And you are my new best friend.”

It’s carried us, our well-worn hiking shoes, and our stuffies to school, our favorite vacation spots, and the best hiking trails.

The car was the last car of mine that my dad rode in and helped fix. I can still see him taping plastic over the rear window on the driver’s side when it stopped working on a stormy November day.

Along with the goldfish crackers, the car probably has two pounds of dog hair even after we vacuumed and vacuumed. It was the car that carried me to say good-bye to my beloved dog, Biscuit when it was time for him to cross the rainbow bridge at nearly 14 years of age in 2017.

Like all touchstones, the car is just a gateway for all the tender, tense, and touching moments my family has stored in our hearts. Funny how touchstones make feelings so accessible. The car feeling was that life is adventurous, rich, and full of beloved characters we love.

The kids and I hugged the car and walked into the building a little teary-eyed. We sold the car but we are keeping the memories.

(featured photo is of our parking lot car hug)

You can find me on LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/wynneleon/ and Instagram @wynneleon

I host the How to Share podcast, a podcast about collaboration – in our families, friendships, at work and in the world.

I also co-host the Sharing the Heart of the Matter podcast, an author, creator and storytelling podcast with the amazing Vicki Atkinson.

Best Mother’s Day Gift

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“You are imperfect, you are wired for struggle, but you are worthy of love and belonging.” – Brené Brown

As I type this, I can hear my kids 10 feet away slurping their hot chocolate. It’s the end of a busy weekend. We had our family over for Mother’s Day and now are winding down.

I’m trying to put my finger on the feeling. Over the course of the weekend, in addition to hosting a family party, my kids and I played a lot of baseball, done chores, cooked meals, watched movies and worked on a project outside to transform an area of our back yard. That last activity involved a lot of manual labor as we dug out a flat space and installed pavers to turn what used to be the base of the kids’ playhouse into a cozy place to sit in the garden.

In the last 48 hours, we’ve hurt our knuckles on the rough paving stones, cried some, especially when we lost our baseballs, and laughed a lot more than we cried. Along the way to finishing our project, we also bought this silly ball pitching machine that sends small 1.6 inch diameter foam balls zinging across the yard at 30 miles per hour. My body aches from moving heavy stones and gravel and chasing small yellow balls.

But my heart is so full. It’s the camaraderie with our extended family. Also this feeling that I’m right where I should be. I love my children whole-heartedly…and I like them too.

When I chose to start a family as a single parent ten years ago I had very little idea of how much work would be involved. I was listening to a God whisper about what came next for my life.

The Mother’s Day feeling I’m having right now? That I belong in this life. I suspect that might be one of the best gifts ever.

(featured photo is mine of our work in progress garden seating area)

You can find me on LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/wynneleon/ and Instagram @wynneleon

I host the How to Share podcast, a podcast focused on the wisdom and research about how to share anything – to the appropriate audience, with the right permissions, at the most opportune time.

I also co-host the Sharing the Heart of the Matter podcast, an author, creator and storytelling podcast with the amazing Vicki Atkinson.

My other projects include work as a CEO (Chief Encouragement Officer), speaking about collaboration and AI through the Chicago Writer’s Association, and my book about my journey to find what fueled my dad’s indelible spark and twinkle can be found on Amazon: Finding My Father’s Faith.

Suffering

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“When another person makes you suffer, it is because he suffers deeply within himself, and his suffering is spilling over. He does not need punishment; he needs help. That’s the message he is sending.” – Thich Nhat Hanh

I don’t often think about my ex-husband, for better or for worse. [Yes, that was a marriage joke. 😊] After we divorced, he got married to his third wife. I discovered, once I wasn’t married to him, that I did want kids and had them on my own.

But something I read the other day made me think of something he said fifteen years ago when our marriage was unravelling. “I suffered so much as a kid that I don’t want to suffer any more now.” It was his excuse for not wanting to do the work to figure out the why of his infidelities.

He did suffer as a kid. His parents divorced when he was three years old. His mom remarried a man that ended up going to prison for bank robbery. He was in high school and living with his dad and his dad’s third wife until his dad and step-mom left town in the middle of the night to move 1,000 miles away without telling him because they were in trouble with the IRS.

My ex was a smart kid. He figured it out and managed to work his way through college to create a different life than his parents.

Here’s what I read that made me think of my ex:

“While I am not a victim, I didn’t ask for certain shaping experiences to happen to me. I didn’t ask to be slapped or ridiculed as a boy or to be mistreated by lifelong friends later in life. In truth, If I had experienced different things, I would have different things to say.

What is most healing about bearing witness to things exactly as they are, including my own part in my pain, is that when the voice of the pain fits the pain, there is no room for distortion or illusion. In this way, truth becomes a clean bandage that heals, keeping dirt out of the wound.

To voice things as they are is the nearest medicine.”

— The Book of Awakening: Having the Life You Want by Being Present to the Life You Have by Mark Nepo

That meditation helped me to understand that the point of cleaning our wounds isn’t to suffer more, it’s to heal at that deeper level.

Here’s the funny thing. In not wanting to do his work, my ex made me want to do mine. He’s right – there’s too much suffering in this world. I was motivated to heal my wounds so I don’t thoughtlessly create others.

(featured photo from Pexels)

You can find me on Instagram @wynneleon and LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/wynneleon/

I co-host a storytelling podcast featuring authors and artists with the amazing Vicki Atkinson. To tune in, search for Sharing the Heart of the Matter on Spotify, Apple, Amazon Music or Pocketcasts (and subscribe) or click here. Or the YouTube channel features videos of our interviews. Please subscribe!

My other projects include work as a CEO (Chief Encouragement Officer), speaking about creativity and AI through the Chicago Writer’s Association, and my book about my journey to find what fueled my dad’s indelible spark and twinkle can be found on Amazon: Finding My Father’s Faith.

The Love You Can’t Wipe Off

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“How bold one gets when one is sure of being loved.” – Sigmund Freud

One morning last week, I gave five-year-old Mr. D a kiss on the cheek as he was getting out of the car at school. He turned and said, “Sometimes I wipe your kisses off.” I laughed and then he jumped out of the car and ran to join his class line.

I was still laughing when this retort popped to mind: “Nice try but the mark of love doesn’t wipe away that easily.”

It’s in the clean clothes you have to wear. And packed with the lunch I’ve taken the time to try to balance nutrition with edibility.

It’s with the reading practice we did last night so you can feel more confident today. And in the jobs I let you “help” with to gain a since of accomplishment.

Love is in the echo of you saying “My best mom in the world” when we snuggle on the couch in the morning.

It’s in the tilt of your head when you speak because you know you are worth being listened to.

And it’s in the even-handed way you treat other people and the dog and cat with curiosity and companionship.

We don’t have everything and sometimes butt heads, but love shows up to help smooth out our edges.

Love is in your knowledge that you can tell me that you wipe my kisses off. And that I’ll still keep trying on your way out the door.

The Art of Staying Flexible

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“Blessed are the flexible, for they should not be bent out of shape.” – unknown

The holiday season is over. I swear the collective sigh of relief that we can all get back to our routine is so big as to be palpable.

My dear friend, Katie, whose amazing daughters are grown, came over the other day and we were talking about the highs and lows of this season. The magic, the expectations, the busy-ness, the boredom of the down time, the togetherness. It’s not like the gift of the season comes in a neat package. It’s more like a gift basket put together by a five-year-old and there are some pokey and slimey things in the mix.

When I went to my annual physical with my doctor in early December, I asked her about her sons. She answered that her younger son was home from college on the east coast from Thanksgiving through Christmas. She smiled when she said it was nice, but she was getting a little tired of crumbs on the counter. We had a good chuckle about that.

For me, I wrestle with being flexible enough to go on adventures, to throw the ball around, or to play a game. Often it feels more comfortable to cling to things I need to do. Who am I if I leave dishes in the sink, the crumbs on the table, close my laptop, and start chasing butterflies?

But I’m always rewarded when I set what I’m doing down and participate in the play. I benefit from the magic when the kids share their perspective and fun. Longevity and healthspan expert, Dr. Peter Attia lists socializing as one of the ways to stave off dementia. The complexity of what we do when we interact with others helps to keep our brains well.

So, for everyone who is sipping a cup of tea or coffee and celebrating this week of getting back to normal, please give yourself a pat on the back too. Reading a book given to you that might not be your genre, drinking from a new mug, navigating niceties, trying out the new gadget – all of it helps keep us flexible.

(featured photo is mine – I love the light and dark captured together)

A Fond Farewell

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“Let us live so that when we come to die even the undertaker will be sorry.” – Mark Twain

I’ve become entranced with a word lately: inkling.

Inkling according to Merriam-Webster is a slight knowledge or vague notion. It comes from Middle English yngkiling meaning “whisper or mention.”

When I think of the inklings I’ve gotten, they relate to the niggling feeling that something is off. I’ve had inklings about big events like when my business partner told me of my ex-husband’s infidelities and right before I was laid off. Kinda like a surprise party when everyone stops talking to you in advance.

And I get inklings about little things like when one of my kids is about to catch a cold. Something isn’t quite right about how they react or eat food and it sets off the radar.

For me, inklings are closely related to the internal God whispers, those insistent notions that seem Divinely inspired. On a recent morning when I meditated, I had the urgent sense that I needed to reach out to our dear blogging friend, Julia Preston.

Later that day, I discovered that she’d passed away the night before at the age of 85. She hadn’t blogged much after her cancer diagnosis but she’s been present in emails and comments in the last few months.

After I published one of my favorite posts about the words I become entranced with, My Love Affair with Words, Julia jokingly asked what word I associated with her. I had no hesitation before responding “luminescent.” Julia glowed with love and light for all. She faced her diagnosis with that same delightful curiosity about what comes next.

Her last blog post hinted about the light and love we all can (and should) tap into. Julia left us with the question in When We Gonna: “When are we gonna turn the world around with the power of our thoughts? When are we gonna create light instead of dark and love instead of fear?“

Julia was laid to rest yesterday. For anyone who has an inkling to do something in her honor, her favorite causes were St. Jude’s Children’s Research Hospital and the ASPCA.

RIP, dear Julia. Your light and love remains!

For more about Julia’s profound impact, please see Vicki Atkinson‘s beautiful reminiscence in Collective Gratitude: The Feast Before the Feast

And Julia’s most recent book is available on Amazon: Voices: Who’s In Charge of the Committee in My Head?

(featured photo from Pexels)

The Preciousness of Life

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“Our life experiences will have resonances within our innermost being, so that we will feel the rapture of being alive.” – Joseph Campbell

The morning after a really rough night’s sleep, I was sipping tea and realized I didn’t like the mug. It was scratchy to my lip and it made my tea taste different. We were staying at a friend’s house on the Washington Peninsula so all the mugs were new to me.

Because I hadn’t slept well, I was more attuned to it. After a dozen sips, I forced myself to go the kitchen and change mugs. The smoothness of the new one made me realize how many sensations go into feeling soothing.

I hadn’t slept well because I realized in the middle of the night that I hadn’t refilled the water reservoir for Rusty the gecko before we’d left home for three nights. I sat up with a pit of dread knowing that without the water misting twice a day to keep his enclosure humid, he’d likely die. The questions swirling of when I last did it and how long he could survive sent me shooting out of bed.

It was our last night of this mini-getaway. It was 3am I was two hours and a ferry ride away from home. There was nothing I could do to help poor Rusty in that moment.

Instead I sat until I unraveled the knot of feelings in my gut. I felt the weight of all the responsibility I carry for keeping things alive. I sensed the thread of how tenuous life can be. I even worked my way to compassion for myself for making mistakes.

I finally went back to sleep feeling how dang precarious this thing called life is.

So when I awoke, I needed that soothing cup of tea. I wonder how often we forget that our time here is limited. Speaking for myself, when I lean in to the knowledge that life ends, it spurs me on to pay attention and drink out of the right cup. To take care of ourselves so that we can take care of others.

There’s a happy end to this story. I emailed my mom and she checked on Rusty. He was out of water – but she refilled it and misted him. He made it. So one other thing – thank goodness for moms!

Certainty for Today

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“May your choices reflect your hopes, not your fears.” – Nelson Mandela

My internet browser keeps trying to bait me to find out who I’m voting for 2024 election. It presents headlines from one side or another to see what I’ll click on.

From my point of view, I don’t want to click because I don’t want it to feed me what I want to hear. It’s not that I’m uninterested or uninformed. In these days before this hotly contested election, I’d love to have some certainty. But not at the price of wrong information and expectations that will lead to disappointment.

So instead I’ve made my list of the things I’m fairly certain will happen today:

The sun will rise and set.
That I’ll feel moments of awe, angst, and amusement.

Cooper the dog will put something in his mouth that he’s not supposed to.

And I’ll eat a little or a lot of Halloween candy.

Miss O and Mr. D will make me laugh
and some toys will be played with.

I will not make it through my to-do list.
But I will accomplish enough of my must-love list.

We’ll learn something, spill something, and read something.
One kid, or both, will anger the other and apologies will have to be made.

That amidst the rush and hustle of daily life with a nine-year-old and a five-year-old,
I’ll feel the overwhelming gratitude and love that I was able to choose to have this family
Using IVF.

And that’s why I never needed to open my browser to figure out which way to vote. I voted for Kamala Harris so that other families can choose, if they need to, to have days filled with the same types of certainties I’m likely to have today.