a note to my 16 year old self

It was 70 degrees in mid October and very few leaves had even changed because of the warm North Carolina fall. As I looked around the table I found myself wanting permission to stare longer at each of their faces. Even though they may say the wrinkles and dark under eyes are unbecoming I found the age in their faces powerful and lovely. I’d known these women since I was 15 years old; A lot more life has been had since we were last together. 

I returned to my high school hometown of Greensboro, NC to attend my 20th high school reunion. Mostly i returned to sit with a few faces and know them again even if only for 48 hours to allow the nostalgia to seep into our older frames. Events I had stored in all parts of my brain and body from those formative years were bubbling up the instant I sat down with these women. Towards the end of our meal and after many other questions, i asked, “Do you have peace with your 16 year old self?” The answer in full is much longer than our lunchtime date but I so appreciated what they had to say. For the rest of the weekend I found a way to ask something like that to other classmates i was spending time with and found that by Saturday afternoon hours before the actual reunion party, I was wondering this for myself. 

After all the festivities ended, I boarded the plane back to the West Coast and I realized there is so much I wish to say to my 15,16,17,18 year old self.  So here goes one effort of peacemaking with her:

Dear girl, Do not be so afraid but in your curiosity be as kind and protective of yourself as a young girl can possibly be. There is much to figure out about the world, so don’t rush and don’t push it away and don’t jump in both feet without a clue what it looks like on the other side. Be kindly curious. Be patient to know that the world will teach you so much in time for now you are continuing to learn yourself and others. Finding your own self is a much darker, awkward and deeper journey than maybe anyone let you know. Yes, you are beautifully wonderfully made in Gods image as your parents told you many times, and you are also still young and human in a world with many many people and ideas - many of which have great appeal but will not always serve you. And with all that advice then I would say this: 

You were lovely even still. And I want to greet your young face with kisses on both cheeks. I want to hold you close and bring comfort and grace to all the days you disconnected further and further from yourself. First as you came to know that all the verses in the world couldn’t always hold the desire in your body to be known and seen and loved. That trusting a God to be your everything in those growing up days was hard when the world felt so wide open. You feel you fell so far from His love and path for you that you weren’t still worthy to be held and deserving of His mercy. Actually I see now part of the splitting was the real learning of how much you needed someone bigger than yourself, a real hope outside of that wide opened full optioned world that gave such fleeting tastes of love and acceptance. In receiving that mercy maybe you will learn something of the real kindness to yourself. Its not the kindness that is ignorant and glossing over but the kind that sees and still offers love. You dear girl have always been worthy of love, and not because you made all the right choices. Im sorry for the many years that truth felt so shaky. 

i am sorry for the war on your body as a young girl. the barrage of messages that quickly and insidiously communicate to you the one path to beauty. With each message you received you got further and further away from your own body and began labeling each part with new names with a lot less acceptance. By the time you left high school you actually were so disconnected from your own body after so many harsh and untrue labels that a mirror became pointless. You could not even see the reflection. i want to hold the body that spent hours hugging a toilet to release the enemy of food. Rather than nourishment or joy, hunger for food felt like betrayal to yourself and the wicked force to keep you from being what you desperately need to be, thin in a disappearing kind of way. and also in an appearing way - a way in which you could be noticed and wanted. I’m sorry you felt shame for that desire that is built into your person. I'm sorry that friends held your hair instead of told you you were already beautiful - no real fault of theirs, they were so busy figuring it all out too, we could hardly rescue each other. 

I see you now. more clearly. and you were fighting so many battles in your days. and somedays you fought valiantly with the protection of angels. and other days looked more like lying down in surrender. and i want so badly to say to you now, no more regretting those years of split turns, they now are a part of your wisdom. Don’t hate the 16 year old you, she was trying so very hard to navigate the world. It was beautiful and awkward and fun and full of discovery and stupid and dangerous and big hearted.

You were still very you in a navigating a crazy maze but those days offer shape to the women you are today. The woman who entered the 20th year reunion confidently with all the turns of the past that her mind body and soul are rich today. not perfect, not all figured out, but down the road a bit further. a lot more life has been had yes, there are gray hairs and lines to prove it.  However, there has also been kindness to self that has radicalized your days to more fully live into what you hope to offer the world.

I’m not sure I could be this 38 without that 16. Maybe, but I’m done being mad at her. Peace to you young girl. 

Saying goodbye to summer

A note to my kids - saying goodbye to summer

As the last summer evening of family backyard teeball ended my heart dropped a bit knowing we were walking inside and closing out another season.  Truth is, I did not want to be full-time at home this summer.  I was nervous going into it wondering how I would muster the energy to be a daily activities director. I was so jealous of your dad so many mornings heading out of the house to another world while i stayed in this one repeating the often monotonous chores of the home.  I imperfectly as I can possibly imagine lead you two kids through this summer. And here we go into a new rhythm  - all still in tact AND even with surprising and unimaginable memories and growth.  Mercy Be. 

This summer you two have taught me so much. I wasn’t anticipating all I would witness.  I watched the way you looked at each other first thing in the morning. Mateo’s joy the second he heard footsteps that “Tissy” was awake! Hannah, your heart for him grew from lime size to an elephant - you doted on him, laughed with him, read to him, encouraged him - I could hardly believe what was unfolding before me was this beautiful sibling relationship. Last year was too traumatic and intense to give you bonding space and this summer it felt like more beautiful than I could have imagined the many years we prayed for you Hannah to have a sibling. And listen, it wasn't all perfect because becoming siblings also came with the hitting, frustration, jealousy, and room boundaries that can make any momma crazy. 

Coming out of a deep season of grief, I learned more about myself than I probably wanted to in how I took on the days. The waves of grief still floundering through my body caused impatient, distracted and sometimes unkind responses. I thought i might throw something if i had to meal plan and go to target one more time, never mind the time at the sink or baskets of laundry that seemed to always need me. I was more bitter than i wish. i am not proud of the way that i let the repetition defeat me. There were days I frustrated quickly with your spills on the carpet or sharpie on the new dining table, or the sound of the whine got so deep under my skin, i screamed too. I also found myself longing for distraction and activity so we spent a few weeks so over scheduled that we were all exhausted -  which then led a week of nonstop Rio Olympics.  A few times staring at my phone, wanting to escape into something adult, smart, affirming and got lost reading horrible news headlines and unrealistic Instagram envy. 

What I really found this summer was how much each of you enjoyed exploring but equally thrived in the quiet moments. You both continued to beg for my face and my attention. You both wanted to sit near me, shut my computer or turn off the TV, and read or talk or play. You both really wanted presence of a mother - and you wanted to be seen and enjoyed. Each of you responded to the moments I delighted in you with such obvious joy and rest at times it was like you were waiting for me to indulge you with tickles or a book or a long chat. There were days you stretched me all the way out where I watched the clock until dad’s bus was coming home to exhale for a slight moment. And there were days were i wanted to hold you both so close, stay out in the sun past dinner and live in eternal summer mode together. 

As I send you Hannah to start second grade, my mind is like a slideshow of our days. And while I love remembering Hannah catching her first fish at Cama Beach or Mateo experiencing East Coast beach with unabashed joy for sand and water, the Outer Banks cousin dance routine, the water ballon fight at grub club in CLT, family kayaking at South Lake Union, the thrill of watching the Olympic gymnasts… what I hold closest to my heart were the still moments around the house where you came and snuggled, or the times in the car when I looked in the mirror and saw you two holding hands in the back seat, or the pre dinner dance parties when we shook out all the crazy from the day and laughed with each other.  I’ll remember tearful conversations trying to figure out friendships and Hannah's determination after 50 falls to get one back-walkover. I remember swimming and eating and screaming and crying and praying and singing. All of it. As ragtag of a crew as it felt somedays, you two gave me an unbelievable privilege this summer to be full-time at home and witness all the beauty of your growing up and growing together. Now, I'm nervous for FALL and will miss our days so very much. Who would have guessed?

Stay on the dance floor. Or the in the boat.

Then Jesus turned to his wind-torn friends. “Why were you scared? he asked. “Did you forget who I Am? Did you believe your fears, instead of me?”

Jesus’ friends had been so afraid, they had only seen the big waves. They had forgotten that, if Jesus was with them, then they had nothing to be afraid of. No matter how small their boat - or how big the storm.  

I got choked up and looked at the cream cheese stained faces of my kids as I was reading the end of this story to them this morning from the Jesus Storybook Bible. For the pages before I found myself nodding my head and a little mad, thinking yeah, JESUS, WAKE UP. QUIT SLEEPING! Don’t you see I am in this little boat being blown and buffeted and tossed and turned back and forth and up and down and left and right and round and round??

Hannah looked at me the way I looked at my mom hundreds of times when i was so confused why she was crying and then she asked if she could go watch a show (i.e. escape the crazy lady talking to herself over the bible story). And now here I am many hours later thinking about the last dang sentence. No matter how small their boat or how big the storm - nothing to be afraid of if Jesus is with me.
 
WHY DOESN’T IT FEEL THAT WAY? Because actually I am very afraid. Actually my body is tied in knots wondering where my kids can lay there heads in 30 days. I feel like I’m in a small boat and completely adrift at sea. I feel like the compass was lost, i’m  sailing with strangers, we are low on resources and then a nonstop relentless never slowing storm begins… and it is feeling like Jesus is snoozing. No calm, no recovery, no flashing lighthouses telling us where to pull in, no excess jackets or fish or rest - just constant waves. 

This is what the last few years have felt like. How then God can you be surprised if I am afraid or if I am mad or weary? How am I supposed to consider worshiping my way through the constant nature of flying debris around me? Im TIRED. I want to RECOVER from the last few years. I cannot hope or dream or scheme or wait or anything right now. I only want to be but i’d like to be without lightening and thunder. I’m adrift without a compass and I can survive that, but not while also watching the boat fill with water. Is that too much to ask, that’s a real question? Am I wanting too much or all the wrong things? 

The following morning, Stephen read a chapter from A Sacred Sorrow and I came to realize that I am in a stage of lament.  Lament is defined as a passionate expression of grief or sorrow. Turns our I have been lamenting for a while now, but it is coming to light for me now as I recall much groaning in the last few years. The chapter talks about Job with more amazement of what he endured and that still, somehow, he continued to cry out to God. And that in his weeping and screaming to what felt like a silent God, that was actually worship. It says, "He will stubbornly cry out in the groanings of this lament which is worship until God answers.  As Brueggermann would say, he refuses to leave the dance floor until the dance is done." Because he still believed in his most desperate place that God was His only hope.

I have had a hard time singing at church or praying prayers of gratitude recently, and I am amazed to consider that there is a place within worship that includes my groaning. Because indeed while I struggle to sing of God’s goodness and never letting us down, I do still in the depth of my exhausted wind torn body carry the belief that God is my hope. So, back to the boat. Stay on the dance floor. I can cry out at what feels like the sleeping Jesus, and beg God to protect my family from the relentless storm - and try my hardest to not be afraid until He answers. 

Blessing discomfort

I love to be reminded that our stories are not mistakes. That every piece of our story can be used to change us or those around us - and that much of the ultimate change is good. I never like the story as I am living it it seems. I want respite from our stories of crisis that seem relentless of the last 3 years. And yet, i believe there is a God who orchestrates love and hope for His people. And that my trust in a power greater than myself is where my help comes from - and in many ways I am off the hook for making it all work out great or controlling my days. I am on the hook to stay alive through them - to keep my eyes open and my ears perked and my feet ready - so that I may not get myself out of all the difficult circumstances but that I may take each and every step offered before me with the hope to participate in the great glory to be revealed 

Below was our benediction today and I thought it was great so I wanted to share it:

A Franciscan Benediction

May God bless you with discomfort
At easy answers, half-truths, and superficial relationships,
So that we may live deep within your heart.

May God bless you with anger
At injustice, oppression, and exploitation of people,
So that you may work for justice, freedom and peace.

May God bless you with tears
To shed for those who suffer pain, rejection, hunger and war,
So that you may reach out your hand to comfort them and to turn their pain to joy.

And may God bless you with enough foolishness
To believe that you can make a difference in this world,
So that you can do what others claim cannot be done,
To bring justice and kindness to all our children and the poor.

Amen.

 

Not so much a Hallmark Card

As the calendar barrels towards mother’s day, my mind jumps all over the place to locate feelings to land on this day. I enter this Mother’s day sobered, humbled, and awed. The day can be filled with nice cards and beautiful flowers and can also bare stories of deep heartache, loss, longing, and betrayal.  I struggle to scream out HAPPY!!….Mother’s Day this year as the complexity of that choice of adjectives strikes me as more complicated. I find myself contemplating my entry to motherhood, my motherless new life, and my witnessing mothering of a birthmom.  


Nine or 10 years ago, I was walking out of church on Mother’s day and greeters were handing out flowers to all the moms. My heart dropped and the barrenness of my belly was screaming loud as I tried to get out the door. Our longing was already written all over our faces every Sunday as we navigated through worship and  small talk with the new news that we wouldn’t be able to have children on our own. Everywhere I looked were swollen bellies or tiny hands hanging out of slings. It was hard to feel so alien at the very place designed to build community. And on this day, to walk around flowerless felt like a scarlet letter of its on; I did not want this infertility mark. 


Almost exactly a year ago this time on a Thursday afternoon, I was hustling around the house getting dinner ready after work when I received a call from our adoption agency that a birth mom with a 10 month old son had seen our book and wanted to meet. My head was literally spinning. A boy, 10 months, us, why us, now, why now, how, can this be? Over the next 5 weeks we would go through some of the most emotionally stretching days of my life. Accepting and hoping for this little baby boy also meant accepting a death for someone else. A death of dreams, hopes, expectations, and efforts of his valiant birth mom all the while being an answer to our five year long prayers and dreams of another child, a sibling. It’s unspeakably complicated to remember all the meetings and to know what I saw on her face and then felt in my heart. How could two mothers coexist in this way? How we survived the literal transfer of a beautiful 16lb blue-eyed boy from the hands of one woman of dense courage and grit to another woman terrified to the bone but bull strong as well is miraculous in itself. I remember her uttering through her tears as she stretched her arms out to hand Mateo to me, “I chose this family for you Mateo and I love you.” Such tangible death and life witnessed.
  
I stared as the pea size tears collected on the ground below me. A few months after Mateo's placement with us, I entered my parents condo and I saw my mother resting in the chair facing the windows. The dosage of pain meds was increasing and we were getting less and less “time” with her. For a woman of such determination, wisdom and tender kindness to be stationary and speechless felt so cruel. And now I wish the cruelty had stopped there but it seemed relentless to steal and change her in the months that followed through the ravenous cancer. I missed her so much. I found myself shortly after entering sitting on the floor beside her and just leaning my 37 year old body against her legs on the chair. My head was resting on her knees and i longed to talk to her. After a few minutes I felt her hand on my head and the gentle loving way she ran her fingers through my hair spoke volumes, I could feel her humungous love for me through the kindness of her hands. Only six days later she was laying in a hospice bed loudly weeping as I said goodbye for the day, and I think was the last time I received care from her before the cancer took her away. 

And now I try to receive a day where an infertile woman celebrates the two miraculous beautiful children gifted to her while still carrying close the pain of longing and loss around bearing children with her community and friends.  And I carry the unthinkable ache of a birth mom who spent last Mother’s Day with her new baby boy and spends this day likely cherishing memories with deep love for her son without having him to hold and play.  And I sit with the grief that while spending decades of mother’s day rattling off long cards of gratitude and getting pedicures, this year the absence of my mother is so pronounced all that can be held are memories of her words and face. I’m surprised really all that a day can hold, and humbled to imagine if I have all this to weed through I am likely not alone.

So instead of shouting HAPPY, I’ll say instead - dear friends,  I hope you feel covered and comfort as you set aside a day to reflect on those that have mothered you and around you and how you have participated in mothering as well. May there be space to honor both the difficult memories as well the beautiful ones.

 

4 month marker

I deeply miss you mom. I have a lump in my throat and I am trying to take deep breaths but mostly sighing. I want to hear what you would say to me right now. Am I okay? Do you think my kids are okay? Is there anything in a day that would make you proud? What would you tell me about how to get through this argument with Stephen? I feel ungrounded and unsure and it’s like I keep waiting for you to chime in on things. The way you would reassure me and invite me to my life. The way you wouldn’t give answers but ask more questions. The way you comforted my broken heart or angry moments. I don’t know how to keep having days without that guidance, that love. 

There is nothing in the world like a mother’s love. Sometimes I tell myself to be grateful that I experienced it with the depth and consistency and grit that must have made God so happy to watch you mother. And so on these days where the ache feels unbearable and I’m longing for your words, I try to remember them. All the words you have given me, all the wisdom that you have shared with me time and time again. I remember the kindess in your eyes for me. I can hear what you would want for my kids. Its not nearly the same as having you here to walk with me but I can connect with the memories of your voice and face. Your words come alive more and more each day and where they aren’t exact, I can usually make a pretty good guess of how you would advise me or comfort me. 

Today marks 4 months since we lost you. I cannot believe how deeply I miss you. Your voice and presence are irreplaceable. I do not want time to weaken them, so I am stuck knowing that time may lessen the sharpness of the grief but also that there is something still alive about you to remember so keenly the way I can today. I don’t want time to pass in a way that I forget. And also I cannot have a morning this full of ache that doesn’t also feel like a morning of gratitude. I had an incredible mother who loved me so big that there is no time that could ever pass that my whole body will not remember how deeply you loved me. Thank you.

feeling not enough and plenty

I walk back through the door energized. I slip off my heels, and head to the kitchen as I see Stephen finishing up the final dishes from the night.  I excitedly begin relaying details of the benefit dinner I attended at my old place of work.  I got to see colleagues, friends and donors while eating delicious food in a sacred space on a sunny evening. All felt really well.

As soon as I wrap up some stories of the interactions I had, i assume we are headed to relax in the living room when Stephen says, "I need to update you on the house. The buyers want out of the contract. They feel we didn't disclose some issues with the roof and therefore not only do they want out, they want all their money back including due diligence and inspection fees." Every ounce of energy and hope ran out the door as fast as you can imagine. I deflated and as I did fear filled up my body. As PH continued to fill me in on the back and forth of the day, my head was spinning. I was stunned silent. 

Why is such an unhelpful question in this case, but I couldn't control all of what was flooding my mind. Why must we go through so much up and down and run around? Why did i get the words from my Keeper, get 3 bids in one day, believe that we were actually going to receive more than what we imagined - all to lose again - and this time lose to people out for blood? And a process that feels so out of control. I am 3000 miles away, i can't look my realtor in the eye, the buyers, or the inspector or the roof guy or anyone to get me real answers. And I am covered in feelings of foolishness in this process. For hoping. For believing it was all going to work out great. And feelings of being an idiot in a process I don't understand, and for the 27 year old versions of ourselves who waived one inspection that may costs us thousands of dollars now because our contractor did poor work. 

I feel dumb. I feel out of control. I feel foolish.  I am also annoyed and angry to find ourselves in this pretty much worse case scenario. As i wrote those things out, i realize now why I cannot win in conversations about the house because I am flooded each time with each of those emotions and I spiral quickly. Not only are the emotions a perfect soup storm for anxiety and defeat, but also, the house represents so much for me.

That bungalow was our first house together, and all that Stephen and I have worked hard for years to buy. And to watch our little investment and all the funds to cover the year its been on the market go out the door hurts me. Then to know that the sale, even in its best case scenario still doesn't give us what is needed to buy here has me feeling trapped. Is all of this a sign? Are we in the wrong place? Do two contracts falling through mean its time to go back ourselves, especially since we don't have the millions needed to buy a home here? I have zero idea.

And I don't know if any of these details matter exactly or if again this is something of life to teach, stretch and shape us. What do i need to learn Lord? Is there an easier route by chance? What matters to me and what do I trust?  What matters to me is that I can create a space for my people and share life as big and often as we can. What matters is that we work hard no matter what even if money doesn't last or add up or make a damn bit of sense. What I believe if i calm myself down enough is that we will be provided for even if it looks different than the picture in my head - and for sure, already and usually - even if it is different than the timing in my head. AND at the risk of sounding so cliche - we are already so fortunate for the roofs over our head and the humans underneath them that we have to love, so my self contempt and fear can find the nearest exit now as i work hard to welcome gratitude and hope back. 

Attentiveness continued

My hope was that some amazing idea would spring forth during my 40 days so that I could launch a writing project and really dive into in the coming months. No genius idea came to me unfortunately, BUT I haven't given up yet.  The Lenten project is complete and I learned from it. I learned how hard honesty is. I learned how much I love TV and exercise. I learned that a lot can occur in just a day's time - AND so, if I live in a way that rushes rushes rushes, I do actually lose pieces of myself when I build in no time to reflect, meditate, pray, read, write. And likely life will always be busy. There weren't that many days that it felt super easy to make time to calm down and write. But I always felt grateful when I tried. So, that's all the genius I got for today. I want to keep trying to show up. It may look different, but I hope to post three times a week and we'll see what comes. Thank you to anyone tracking with me. My word for the year still remains important to me - Attentiveness - so I will ask God what it looks like to continue in that and how I can share it in the coming months. 

I really really love flowers. And sunshine. And when Stephen prunes a tree and I have this happy accident of beauty on my dining room table. 

I really really love flowers. And sunshine. And when Stephen prunes a tree and I have this happy accident of beauty on my dining room table. 

Cheers. 

LIGHT wins

Happy Easter all! Love Conquers.  The end of the story is VICTORY, that's what SuSu always said. Oh, how I needed to know that. 

A few images from our celebration day and tomorrow, more thoughts about these 40 days and where to go from here. For today, holding tight to the bigger picture, that love conquers death, His love. That Heaven is an end game and it is victorious. All these earthly trials matter, and I am grateful for the Living Spirit with us, but ultimately these earthly woes cannot take all of life from me. My fear is wild and large but cannot separate me from the vastness and the depth of the love of Jesus. I wonder if mom's day was any different today than other days in Heaven, but I felt happy thinking of her celebrating with the angels.