Joy

 When all that's left is the shell of what once was, where is the joy?  

When all you hear is the clamoring and the bickering, who speaks of joy?  

When everywhere you look there is damage, how can you find joy?  

This is the truth of where we find ourselves.

Surrounded by wreckage. 

...after a December Friday with so much loss.  The wreckage is sacred ground.  

And someday the rebuilding will have to begin.  

Love and joy are the foundation blocks.

My own child asked me, "Will they have Christmas in Connecticut this year?"  

I started to respond with a complicated, adult type of answer.  An answer wrapped up with all of my grown up baggage about motherhood and love, mental illness and being safe at school, holidays and how hard it is to struggle with loss.  

And then I stopped.

Answer the question you have been asked.

"Yes, Love.  They will have Christmas in Connecticut this year."

Love and joy are the foundation blocks.

A father in Newtown was asked, "Can your town recover from this?"

He replied, "We're going to have to.  We have so many children left."

Occasion

My middle child, Mona, as we affectionately call her, went to half day kindergarten all but two days last year.  Long story short, that's over 175 days of public education...and she never once used the bathroom at school.  Not once.  She was scared to death of the flusher.  Some careful strategy on her part and a school day that lasted just over 3 hours allowed her to come home everyday and use her own potty before lunch. 

She headed off to first grade 4 weeks ago with a big backpack and a big problem.  From the time she headed out to the bus each morning to the time she returned home she would be gone for nearly 8 hours.  And she was bound to have to use the loo.  For several days, we asked about it and she avoided the question.  End of discussion.  I wrote a note to the teacher to have her make sure Mona knew where the bathroom was.  She did.  I suggested to the big sister that she escort the middle bit to the bathroom when they got off the bus first thing in the morning.  Refused.  So we waited.  And didn't make a big deal out of it, because that is the best way to push this kid over the edge.  But I secretly packed a pair of extra leggings in the bottom of her very big backpack...just in case.

Then at the end of the second week of school, she came in the door looking rather smug.  Something was up.  She unpacked her bag, brought me her folder and casually tossed out the comment, "By the way Mom, I used the bathroom at school today.  Just so you know."

Everyone stopped in their tracks.  She beamed.  This was a very big deal.   

When you rise to the occasion...it IS an occasion.  And in this house, that gets you candles.  In your after school snack.  And a strange wonderful family that sings together, "Happy Bathroom to You!  Happy Bathroom to You!"

It is what it is?

Actually, if you know my mind at all, you know I don't believe that.  You know I believe things are what you make them, not what their name or date or circumstance says they're supposed to be.  And when, after nearly 200 days at school, you finally work up the courage to use the bathroom, that's a special occasion.

We all need more tiny candles and silly songs to mark the occasion.  Go buy yourself a wee pack and just see how you'll start looking for a reason to light one.  To mark an occasion.  Start seeing things for what you make them.

Family

Where did I come from?  My parents?  My parents’ parents?  Their parents?   Was it a place?  Was it always that place?  Or maybe a time?  Or the time before that time?  Who is my family?  What’s their story?  Is it a name?  Was it always that name?  What was the name before that name?  Before that?

How far back in my lineage do I have to go before nobody knows?  I’ve been pretty far down that list of names and dates.  We’ve got people in our family who know all of it.  I’ve gone far enough back to realize I don’t care how far back someone knows something about somebody.  Far enough back to realize that’s only part of the story? 

No matter how long the story is, no matter how much of it is known…it’s only the first part.

What brought me here and where am I going?  I’m learning painfully scraping along the journey of releasing, without forgetting, where I came from.  And all of a sudden there are new things I can do.  Things that I didn’t think I was supposed to be able to do.  Because of where I came from.  Things I didn’t know I wanted to do.  Because of where I came from.  

There’s the family I came from, and the family I made.  The man I chose and those precious children?  We made them.  They are of us.  We are of them.  These things we made are making us into who we are. 

That’s the next part of the story. 

I left one family.  And made another.  That’s just simply the way it’s done. 

As if any family ever gets made any other way.

Summer

What fun is breaking the rules when there aren’t any rules?

How can you enjoy a change in routine, when you have no routine?

Can there be unstructured moments in a life that has no structure?

I say, “No” a lot.  It’s a terrible drag.  Terrible.  I’m the Mom.  That’s a big part of my job.  But sometimes…I get to say, “Yes.”  And they are thrilled.  It’s elicit.  An incredible stroke of good fortune.  And they love it.  Because they know it’s not normal.  We are fiercely protective of our rules and our structure around here, because it gives us order.  That order also provides us wonderfully safe opportunities for chaos.  The fun kind of chaos.

I love summer.  I love the chaos of summer.  I love the YES of summer.

 

I love children that smell like chlorine and have terribly dirty feet.  I love bedtimes that get breezed right by in favor of late nights with the neighborhood running, screaming through the darkness with flashlights and firefly jars.  I love popsicles in the middle of the afternoon.  A shower in the yard?  Sure.  With soap?  Why not.  And no clothes?  Absolutely!

I love the YES of summer. 

Nuts

Have you ever had the pleasure of watching a baby learn to walk?  Those tentative first steps?  The moment they let go and step out.  Hands free.  What are the parents doing?  Are they modeling the walking?  "One foot in front of the other Junior.  That's it.  You pick up your foot like this and then move it forward and put it down."

No.  Probably not.

How about when a baby learns to talk?  The babbles.  The sputtering.  What was mom doing?  Was she bent over him, "Move your jaw Junior.  Lift your tongue now.  Put your lips together and push out some air." 

No.  Probably not.

There's a whole bunch of stuff out there that gets learned just because it gets learned.  They learn it because we live it.  We are not teaching it.  We are doing it.  Are they following our lead or just doing what comes naturally?

Who knows?  It doesn't matter.  It gets done.

The tiny acorn lands where it lands and simply does what it's made to do.  The mighty oak does not stand over it and instruct.  The mighty oak rises in what can only be imagined as a living example of what's supposed to happen.

The things that acorn does not learn from its parent tree are in fact the mightiest of all.  How to grow.  How to root itself firmly as a foundation.  How to spread its branches and look for the sunlight.  How to grow leaves, and house creatures and drop acorns.

What the tiny acorns knows, without having to be told, is how to grow a tree.  And a well tended tree grows.

How to grow a tree is how to grow a life.

Hug

I remember getting hugs as a little girl.  My mom would ask me if I needed one and when the response was yes, she proceeded to look up her sleeve, pat down her pockets, peek in her purse, chattering away with, “Now let me see if I’ve got one here for you…hmmm…doesn’t seem to be one here.  Let me look here.  Nope.  Not there.  Now, I know I’ve got one for you.  I just have to find it.”

This would go on for a bit and the anticipation for this hug, this thing I was about to receive, would build ever so slightly with each place she “searched”. 

“Oh here’s one!  I’ve found one here for you!  Would you like it now?”

“Yes Mom!  Yes!”

Moms know stuff.  Moms can just look at you and know it’s a good time to ask you if you need a hug.

Sometimes a hug is a gift…a blessing you sink into even though you didn’t realize it was coming.  Sometimes a hug is a thing you need…the receiving of it can be just like medicine.  Sometimes a hug is a thing you wait for…the anticipation drawn out just a bit by being made to wait, no matter the reason.

A hug is a thing you receive.  A hug is a thing you give.  Hugs are not just about doing.  So many simple things we do for each other can be reframed this way.  So many things are not about the doing.  It’s about being a good giver.  Knowing what your people need and being ready with that thing.  It’s about being a good receiver.  Knowing that sometimes your people know what you need before you do.  Knowing that sometimes people give you what they need to give you…that being a good receiver can be about taking what you’re given.  Whenever, and however it comes.

I’m lucky.  I have gotten more hugs from my mom than I can possibly remember.  I’m lucky.  I have received what I needed more times than I can possible remember.

I’m lucky.

Knots

A knot binds you.  So simple.  Pieces of line, twisted and looped in just the right way.  So powerful.  A well tied knot lets you stay attached to what you need.  Keeps your shoes on your feet.  Holds your anchor in the storm.

But anyone who's ever seen a brightly colored balloon slip away into the summer sky, knows that a poorly tied knot can be just as powerful.  So basic.  Those cords bent around each other.  We are lulled by the simplicity sometimes.  Distracted by the festivities.  The music.  The chattering children.  The rush.  A loop, a twist.  We have done it a thousand times.  And that poorly tied knot lets a thing slip away.

Family ties.  What about those?  Knots that bind you to people rather than things.  Knots that are not always able to be untied.  Lives bent around each other in such a way.  Family ties are hard because we assume they should be so easy.  These knots are present from the moment of our birth, or even before, so we think we don't have to work at fastening them properly.  But that's the same thing as a poorly tied knot that lets a balloon slip away.

Simple lines and cords can hold fast to each other and be powerful but only when they are bound on purpose.  With purpose.  Knotted well.

To be stay attached to the things we need.

Start tying tighter knots.