Tag: vulnerablity

It Makes Me a Learner

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“Courage doesn’t always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day, saying, ‘I will try again tomorrow.’” – Mary Anne Radmacher

A couple of days before Miss O had her field day at school, I mentioned it to her. Much to my surprise she groaned.

“Why that response?” I asked, thinking of past years where she loved all the silly games like the Mustache Dash where you run with a piece of licorice between your lip and nose, and the water balloon toss.

My almost nine-year-old daughter replied, “I don’t like it when I try my best and don’t win. It makes me feel like I’m a loser.”

Oh. All I could think to say in the moment was, “Well, the only way you have a chance of winning is to try.”

But I couldn’t stop thinking about how early we learn that it hurts not to win and the feeling of competition.

I think the trait that has served me the best is my willingness to try. So I find it fascinating to consider all the things that teach us not to try.

To be fair, parenting has also given me insight into the many things I’m not interested in trying. Weird foods, holding insects, and playing with slime come to mind. Even trying comes with some limits. Or wisdom. Whichever way you want to look at it.

Fortunately, the topic of field day came up the next day so I had another shot at handling it. Miss O brought up the topic of practicing. And I concurred that we don’t practice things like potato sack races on a regular enough basis to have any predictable chance that we’ll win.

But then I was magically gifted the next thing to say, “When I don’t win, I don’t think it makes me a loser. It makes me a LEARNER. There isn’t a thing I can think of that I’ve lost that hasn’t taught me something.”

Funny how hard it is to continue to stay open to being a try-er!

(featured photo is Miss O trying a game at field day)

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)