Tag: courage

Woof

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“You are never too old to set another goal or to dream a new dream.” C.S. Lewis

A couple of 82-year-olds that I know just got a puppy. Why is that so surprising?

Before I continue, let me dispense with the practicalities here. This couple has been married for 60 years, and are two of the most responsible and grounded people I know. They are the type of people who not only have a backup-plan but a backup-plan for the backup-plan. Also, they are surrounded by family that love them and will take the dog if the need arises.

With that said – why it surprising? As I know from training the puppies I’ve had in my life, a puppy is an investment. I think of my beloved golden retriever who passed away 5 years ago at almost 14-years old and I remember him as the amazing companion he was to me through my divorce and the start of my little family. But training him to be that companion took a lot of initial energy.

I think that we have a story that tells us that when we get to age X, we are supposed to stop investing. It might not be a conscious story but one that affects our choices nonetheless. We may or may not have adjusted that age upward based on the increasing longevity of humans but regardless, there is a time limit on when we are supposed to stop doing new things.

But, if we can be assured of the practicalities, why not get a puppy? At a time in life when one has a lot of free time, wouldn’t it be wonderful to have some young energy to keep you moving? And when your friends may be losing their hearing, isn’t there an upside to a companion that will listen to every word?

More than that, shouldn’t we be willing to keep trying as long as we are on this side of death’s door? It seems that we should at least consider whether the only thing stopping us is a story in our head that tells us there is an age where we shouldn’t love something new, try something different or take on a project just in case we won’t finish.

The couple that got the puppy are the parents of my very dear friend. When I was a senior in high school, my dad took a job in a church across the state and gave me a choice whether to move or not. This family took me in so I could finish out high school where I started. From me, their one-time wayward puppy to this new puppy, all I have to say is, “You’ve got a good home, Lady!”

(featured photo is my beloved dog, Biscuit)

The Learning Curve

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“It always seems impossible until it’s done.” – Nelson Mandela

We worked hard on potty training this weekend. I found it to be a fascinating window into the nature of learning. And that’s not just me putting a positive spin on it.

Day 1: Chaos. The first morning was hit and miss (or more miss than hit). By naptime we were both exhausted. My son because of the huge change that comes learning how to use his body and me because infinite patience takes a lot of energy! So the first lesson came after we’d both napped. Rest helped consolidate the learning so that he was a better student and I was a better coach.

Then after an afternoon and evening of more efforts and celebrations, my son was never happier to have the feel of a nighttime diaper, jammies and to snuggle up and read books. And it underscored for me the need to have comforting rituals to soothe ourselves when in the midst of big change.

Day 2 was characterized by a lot of resistance and efforts to control everything else around. It reminded me of a Brené Brown podcast I heard years ago that whenever she has led or attended a three-day conference, day 2 was always marked by the doldrums. Brené likened it to the middle part of the hero’s journey as described by Joseph Campbell. The hero does everything in their power to pursue all options except for the one that they are called to that leaves them feeling vulnerable.

Day 3: We needed expert help. Which is uncomfortable for me not have it dialed but the amazing teachers at my son’s daycare have said repeatedly that they are more than willing and able to help with this journey. For which I am so thankful. I left him on Monday with a “Good luck” and “God bless you” and I couldn’t have meant both more!

This learning curve at times has felt impossible, exhausting, vulnerable, and not worth it. Somehow it reminds me of learning to snowboard – and also mastering a new technology, figuring out to give my dog allergy shots, starting to blog, and learning how to do mosaic tiling.

Each new venture has roughly followed the same pattern of chaos, resistance and then leaning in and asking for assistance if needed. And it’s not just me. I have a dear friend who didn’t learn how to swim until she was 60 years old. And my 82-year-old mom has been figuring out how to do piano performances online for her retirement community.

Watching my son, I am reminded how hard learning something new is – until it isn’t. And while grown-ups might not be taking on changes as transformative as potty training, we still need to give ourselves the rest and rituals to support our learning, grace to survive the resistance and the courage to lean in to expert help when we need it.

Because as Nelson Mandela says, “It always seems impossible until it’s done.”

(featured photo from Pexels)

The Armor We Put On

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“Don’t ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.” – Howard Thurman

I watched my whole family don armor yesterday and I sit here writing this now stunned and a little sad.

It started with drama about drama camp. As I was preparing my 6-year-old daughter to go to the three day camp this week, there was a registration problem and I told her she might not be able to go. Then her friend was going with couldn’t come the first day. By the time we worked through the registration snafu and she was able to join the other kids, it had been 90 minutes of uncertainty.

I could feel the tension growing in my daughter’s body as she held my hand. Then she whispered to herself, “Be brave,” squared her shoulders and walked in the door. I should have been proud. I was proud. But it blew me away to watch.

It was similar with my two-year-old. He didn’t want to go to daycare after a week when his favorite teacher was on vacation. He was communicating this to me all the way up until I parked and then he completely shut it down as he walked in. It made me think of what one his teachers said to me after he’d recently been stung by a bee on the cheek, “I wondered if this would be the first time I would see him cry and even then, he didn’t.”  

My son is a pretty affable kid but that hit me hard. It made me a little sad not only for him but for all men who are told to be strong, brave and fearless at the expense of shutting down their emotions.

And then me. When this morning’s problem with the drama camp registration came up, I started feeling the fear of having to rearrange all of my work for these three days if my daughter couldn’t go. It created a tension of fear, mixed with disappointment, anger and self-pity since I’d juggled a day off last week when my son was sick.

But when I went to talk to the camp people, I put on my usual bubbly demeanor. Things generally work out pretty well for me because I lead with friendliness. As I’ve said before, my general disposition is a lot like a golden retriever – enthusiastic, friendly and goofy. And for the most part, my inside matches that disposition too but I’ve learned to wear it whether I’m feeling it or not.

I’ve thought a lot about authenticity and vulnerability in the last 10 years since I started to meditate. More than anything, it has changed my inner experience so that I truly know that with the help of God, I can handle whatever is thrown my way. These years of work has built my faith so that the faith tips the scales over the fear. It has made my inner experience match my outward affect.

Watching my kids don their armor at such young ages, it created an ache inside me for all of us. Not just my family but this whole world full of people whose insides don’t match their outsides. We’ve been living with it for so long, we don’t even realize it until we can no longer feel the caress of a hand on our cheek. Then we have to do the work to unpack it or continue to suffer the experience of not feeling fully alive.

I don’t have any solution with which to help my kids except to make it clear we take off the armor at home and practice stoking up the flames of the passion, the rawness and beauty of our whole beings. Then I pray that as Howard Thurman’s quote above says, that helps what the world needs too.

(featured photo from Pexels)

Barring the Doors

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“Peace is not something you wish for; It’s something you make, Something you do , Something you are, And something you give away.” – John Lennon

I dreamed last night that 2 carloads of people were trying to break into my house. To protect myself and my kids, I was in the garage, trying to roll the codes for the garage door opener and even reset the Internet router. I knew these steps would make it harder for me to get out, physically and on the Internet but it felt imperative enough to do it. As I dreamed about having to take these steps, I was so afraid that I woke myself up and could still feel the gritty fear lingering as I lay in bed.

I rarely spend any time trying to analyze my dreams but this one is too obvious to miss. I have a friend who over the last year has been flaky and disappointing. The reasons are rooted in what’s going on in her life but after almost a year of her not showing up for us, I want to lock her out. In the parallel to the dream, I know this type of shutting down makes me less accessible to others across the board but my fear of continuing in this cycle makes it seem urgent.

It all begs that classic question: how do I stay open without perpetuating the cycle? As I sit in this morning quiet place with my candles lit and my mind open, I can see the answer for me is forgiveness and boundaries.

Forgiveness to release the hold disappointment has taken in my heart. To breathe into the space of empathy and understanding for my friend’s life as she struggles to do her work. Letting go of the tally sheet that my mind has been keeping for this past year.

And setting boundaries that I can maintain. As Prentice Hemphill said, “Boundaries are the distance at which I can love both you and me simultaneously.” With boundaries I can create some order in this new phase of friendship without locking everything out.

The other day my 6-year-old daughter had some friends over and when the 3-year-old pulled down the fort my daughter had spent all morning making and then laughed about it, she hissed, “I’m never inviting you guys over again!” It seems so natural to want to lock others out until we are left lonely and bored without anyone to appreciate our forts. Coaching my daughter through it, I can see we can do better with forgiveness and boundaries instead.

(featured photo from Pexels)

The Courage Not to Quit

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“It always seems impossible until its done.” – Nelson Mandela

When my daughter, her friend and I were biking back from school the other day she absolutely refused to walk her bike up a steep hill even though her friend and I were walking our bikes. She would run out of steam, stop and then start trying to ride again in the middle of the hill. I repeatedly coached her “walk your bike.”

Finally she explained she wanted to be a story. “What does that mean?” She replied, “I want to be a story we talk about at the dinner table.”

I assume this hearkens back to the time she bought an ice cream for her brother from the ice cream truck, all by herself, with her own money and without me telling, choose to get one for him too. I blogged about it in The Great Turnaround post. I was proud of her, she was proud of herself and I told many people the story when they came over for tea or dinner.

So I had to explain that for every epic journey, there is always a time that you want to quit. I’ve never climbed a mountain where there wasn’t a place where I totally wanted to quit. Just mentioning this brings back the time on the Mexican volcano, Mt. Ixtacchuatl right after we left high camp at about 14,000 feet.

It was dark, the middle of the night and we were walking on scree – that loose gravel that shifts every time you set your weight on it so that every step was a scramble and rebalancing effort too. We were on the way to the 17,600 foot summit so we had a long way to go and the only thing I could think was that I’d have to contend with this on the way back too. I totally wanted to quit.

And so I told her that’s where the stories come from – because you want to quit and yet you don’t. Whatever you do to get past that section where it’s hard and bleak doesn’t have to be pretty. The epic stories all have a middle section. Otherwise they aren’t very entertaining..

My daughter looked at me as if she wasn’t convinced. And since she’s 6-years-old and has had very little personal struggle in her life, I suspect that she doesn’t yet have a hook to hang that on.

So the next time she had to ride home from school, her friend’s dad ran behind them and pushed them up the hill as they stayed on their bikes and rode. She returned home to me triumphantly and said, “I have my story now!”

Trust Falls

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“The angel seeing us is watching through each other’s eyes.” – Rickie Lee Jones

My friend Eric was over the other night and my daughter accidentally did one of those “trust falls” when she tripped over something, fell backwards and he caught her. She thought that was so much fun that she wanted to do it again and again.

Watching this, I was trying to think who I trust to catch me. As I started listing all the wonderful people in my life in my head and thinking whether I’d trust them to catch me if I metaphorically fell (like if I got sick), I started automatically providing excuses why I wouldn’t ask. Like there’s Lindsey but she is so busy, there’s Eric but he just started a new job, there’s Katie but she’s a half hour away, and there’s my mom but she should be enjoying her senior years.

I had to meditate on this for a while. Why is it that I don’t “trust” any of the people that I really and truly trust? And the answer is my own fear of vulnerability. I don’t want to ask. I fear having to ever own that there are some days I’m a hot mess on the inside.

Of course this is all thankfully hypothetical but also represents my ongoing battle with over-preparing for life. It’s not just now. I can think back to when I climbed mountains and I would check the packing list over and over so that I wouldn’t have to ask anyone to borrow anything. Or sleep with my contacts in so I wouldn’t be late to tie into the rope team when we’d leave for our final summit bid in the middle of the night.

When I really dig deep, I see that I trust my spiritual guides like my dad and God much more than I do living people. Because I don’t have to ask out loud!

When it comes to trust falls, I think it is far easier to be the person catching than the person falling. Unless you are a 6-year-old and then you love doing the falling. But if I remember correctly from the group building exercises I’ve done in the past, you have to both do the falling and the catching.

A good reminder that we have to practice vulnerability. So I’ll go first. I started blogging regularly because working remotely and being a parent means that I don’t have enough conversations with adults that go deep. That leaves me feeling this weird kind of loneliness that isn’t bored or even unhappy but just scared I’m missing the point.  So I write but I don’t advertise this to anyone outside the blogging community just in case I’m overreaching. But I aspire to one day own all of me and to know the power of doing so.

Whoa! That was scary. But I’ll catch you if you want to take a turn!

Nice to Meet You

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“A very small degree of hope is sufficient to cause the birth of love.” – Stendahl

My kids and I have had a dog staying with us this past week. Kelty is a delightful, well-trained Springer Spaniel who at 12 ½ is old enough to pretty much know what to do without direction and deaf enough to have momentary lapses when she wants to look for food and pretend she can’t hear us. My kids have been so excited to take care of a dog so they’ve split up the responsibilities. My 6-year-old daughter scoops the food for her and gives the cup to my 2-year-old son so he can put it in the dish. Or my son goes around the yard looking for poop so that my daughter can pick it up. Hilarious!

The only creature that isn’t happy is our cat who refuses to even meet the dog. She has spent the week lying mostly on the front porch glider occasionally coming in for food or to run upstairs where the dog doesn’t go to have a nap. She’s young, strong and confident enough to roam the entire neighborhood, catch mice and take care of herself but none of that translates until a willingness to meet this nice older dog, She even follows us when we take the dog out walking like she wants to join but darts away if the dog looks at her.

Somehow this has reminded me of me. Specifically about my willingness to meet men. Not that I dart into bushes 😊 but more figuratively that if I am ever to find love again, I’m going to have to start with at least intending to meet men. I’ve had the confidence to walk this path of having kids on my own, I’ve managed to figure out how to juggle most everything – work, house maintenance, kids but the idea of falling in love again unsettles me.

I was playing a catching game with my kids the other day and my daughter said to me, “When we get a dad, we can play boys against girls.” Right! I know it’s the next part of the path I need to walk but like the cat, it’s never going to happen unless I need to try. Maybe at my age, I can find one a little like the dog – old enough to pretty much know what to do and selectively deaf enough to create some mischief from time to time. 😊

Praying for Rain

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“Let me not pray to be sheltered from dangers but to be fearless in facing them.” – Rabindranath Tagore

My friend, Mindy, told me this story about her son when he was about 6 or 7-years-old. It was the beginning of the school year and her son didn’t want to have to sit next to Henry in school. He came up with the idea to pray about it. The next day after her son came home from school, Mindy asked him whether or not he had to sit next to Henry. He replied, “Of course not, I prayed about it.”

I was reminded of this story the other day when my daughter was looking for her kinetic sand and said she’d prayed to God that she’d find it. I knew I’d thrown the kinetic sand out so no praying would help! I threw it out because I’d been praying not to have that stuff all over the floor and I knew how to make that happen. 😊 But it also made me think about my relationship to prayer.

The longer I live the less I know what to pray for. As our overall human and my individual scientific understanding of our world has grown, I’ve found it precludes praying for anything that I know how it works. And the more that I think I’m in control of my life, the less that I pray for things like money or even happiness.

So as I summon my centeredness and quiet as I meditate, I find myself instead praying more for a feeling and connection to the Divine. Praying for a voice that speaks kindness, a heart that serves from its depth and a mind that is childlike enough to search for mystery. I pray for an acceptance of things how they are and eyes to discovery the delight in it all. I pray for arms that are tender enough to hold everyone that I encounter during the day. I pray for ears that are open to listening and a patience to do it without judgment. I pray for a curious nose that can draw me to the sweet smelling things around me. I pray for a feeling of grace so that I face the day from my depths instead of my human fragility. I pray for feet that will guide me to my individual path that I should be walking and the courage to do it.

This weekend my daughter was praying for rain. I thought that one was likely to pan out given the forecast but it turned out that she was praying for rain right at that instant. So I shook the wet tree branch that she and my son were standing under and we laughed and laughed. Then when it really rained, we ran around, jumped in puddles, held our umbrellas upside down and sang. That turned out to be exactly what we all were praying for.

An Act of Bravery

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“It always seems impossible until it is done.” – Nelson Mandela

This week my almost 6-year-old daughter suggested that we ride bikes to pick up my son from daycare. So last night we did. It’s only about a mile by bike and she is pretty steady on hers. We left with me in the lead and she was following. The first part is slightly downhill in a bike lane on a busy road and we had only gone five blocks when all of a sudden I couldn’t see her behind me. The road curved so I could only see a half block back but she didn’t appear. Then a man in a truck said, “Are you looking for a little girl? She’s way back there.” My heart in my chest, I looped around to find my daughter a block back, up on the sidewalk silently crying. A car had come, maybe turning, it spooked her so she got herself up on the curb and resolved to wait for me.

The rest of the way we changed it so she led and I followed talking to her the whole way. When we got to the daycare, it’s a half a block of steep uphill so I told her we’d walk our bikes but she said, “I can do it, Mama!” and zoomed herself up the hill and right up to the door. On the way back, she started to relax into it so much that she was weaving between cones on a closed section of road.

The whole adventure reminded me how brave we are to live a day of this life. We get up, set our sights on something we are going to do, people we are going to meet or work we have to finish. Then we start on our way only to discover we are scared or confused and need a minute. Whether we continue or not probably depends on the voice we hear in our head. And for us adults, this all happens without us thinking about it. We have forgotten how brave it is to meet the day because we’ve done it so many times before. But it doesn’t make us any less brave.

Watching my daughter when we finally pulled back into the garage with my toddler, she stripped off her top and cheered. She did it! She transported her 45 pounds of bones, muscle and grit a mile and back on a two-wheeled vehicle and moved through time, space and her own doubts. By God, she did it. May we all remember to cheer our bravery as we tackle things today.

Airing the Wounds Out

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“Courage is what it takes to stand up and speak; courage is also what it takes to sit down and listen.” – Winston Churchill

My kids and I spent the weekend with my brother and sister-in-law. Sitting around their semi-circular teak dining room table with a padded bench seat, I was reminded about a conversation we had there about a year ago.

“My mom said I should go find another mom,” My daughter said to my brother and sister-in-law. It was all I could do to not explain but because they are wise, they teased out the story from her. She was having a fit that seemed to be part of what came with being four because I wouldn’t let her do something. It had been going on for a while (it seemed like a fifteen minutes although it was probably five) and she said, “I’m going to find a new mommy, a nice one.” and I said, “Go!”

In the months after it happened she kept bringing it up and part of me died in shame whenever she did. She’d mentioned it a few times to just me and I’d apologized profusely. “I said something that I shouldn’t have because I was angry and frustrated, Sweetie” I said over and over again but then it came up again with two of her most trusted other adults. I sat there listening and they talked through it.

Listening quietly to that unfold was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. But love did two things as I watched. It held me silent, knowing that unpacking the hurt for my daughter was far more important than defending myself. And I also felt held by the love of my brother and sister-in-law. I could trust that they know me well enough to know my strengths and weaknesses and all the care I put in between.

In the year since that conversation, my daughter has never brought up that comment again. My silence allowed my daughter to talk about her hurt without it being compounded by feeling ashamed to talk about it. In addition to eating great meals of delicious food, there are so many things we’ve done at that table in my brother’s living room – colored pictures, worked on crosswords, celebrated birthdays, had long conversations about life, reviewed the fun of the day. But now I add to that list – relaxed into our imperfections and healed mistakes.