Brave, Anyway

Tag: bravegirlwannabe

  • Contradictions

    Contradictions

    I am made up of contradictions, and it confuses me. For some reason, I have harbored a deep-rooted belief that people should not be a mix of things – actually, that people and belief systems and governments and literally maybe everything should consist of elements that are all in alignment. That everything should “go together.” That everything should be congruous.

    I think this misunderstanding, in combination with a decision to sometimes hide some of the faith parts of me, has created a level of conflict within me for much of my adulthood. I am only just embracing that there’s no one way to be a “good” girl or Christian or Mom or caring person or wife or single person or leader or neighbor. I am only just now embracing that while there are core and consistent principles for the people on each of these paths, the paths are filled with variation and with unique people of individual experiences.

    I’m a girl who loves God but who sometimes drops f-bombs. I am a Mom who loves spending time with my girls but who also loves working. I don’t just work for a paycheck and shut off that part of my brain at 5pm; I actually love my job and all the responsibility that accompanies it. I have spent my entire life talking to God, and yet I married someone who didn’t believe in that God. I am a person of faith and of superstition. I believe in God and in science – I believe He can heal and that doctors and medicine can heal.

    My book choices are all over the place, everything from daily devotionals to 50 Shades of Grey to Touching History. The top played songs on my ipod right now are The Git Up, Knockin’ Boots, O Come To The Altar, and You Need To Calm Down. I’d like to say I spend most of my down time on putting “good” content into my brain, but the truth is that right now I’m more likely to read something where the vicar’s loins are afire or watch something about a yoga Mom’s murder in suburban America.

    In politics, I am a Christian who thinks that the decisions other people make when confronted with pregnancy are, above all, none of my business. I know that the justice system in the United States is flawed and punishment is unfairly meted out, and yet I believe in the death penalty and I think that some people simply deserve to die. I am a left leaning voter who just can’t work up enough feelings to really care about the environment.

    Contradictions everywhere. And those contradictions – those imperfections, those variations on what I thought a “good” Mom or Christian or whatever should be – have impacted how I thought about a lot of things. Everything from wondering if my daughter got cancer because of my badness (I know the answer is no) to can I really have a worthy opinion about something biblical if I don’t fulfill all the Christian good girl checkboxes (I know the answer is yes) to can a person marked by paradox really successfully shepherd children to adulthood (answer is TBD).

    I think the bottom line is that I have always had a lingering suspicion that my contradictions impact my worthiness or my goodness, but my newly discovered truth is that not only do my contradictions not negatively impact my level of goodness, they make me human and real – and my admission of them makes me stronger, and my admission of them makes my relationships with others stronger.

    One of my a-ha moments about this happened over lunch recently as I shared some of the most personal faith moments of my life. I spoke out loud about events and truths and actions and beliefs and realizations that have until now lived only inside me, or were shared in confidence with just a couple of people in my life. And nothing crazy happened – he didn’t laugh at me or think I’d lost my mind. In fact the opposite happened, and we discussed everyone’s desire to hide sometimes and the contradictions in all of our lives and stories.

    I have hidden parts of me, in part to make others more comfortable and in part to make me more comfortable and in part because I felt my contradictions made me less worthy or good. I let the pressure to be what others expect of me and the pressure of falling into a “good” bucket keep me from sharing all of me. And not only has that held me back, it’s kept some people around me from being their whole self.

    Brene Brown’s Call to Courage special is one of my more recent favorite things. I can’t watch it enough and it’s a sermon that needs to be digested in pieces over time – much like her book Braving the Wilderness. In some ways, I’m still a teenager who wants to cut pictures out of Teen Beat and hang them all over my walls – it’s just that “grown-up” me prints out or highlights thoughts that I need to mull over more.

    “True belonging is the spiritual practice of believing in and belonging to yourself so deeply that you can share your most authentic self with the world and find sacredness in both being a part of something and standing alone in the wilderness. True belonging doesn’t require you to change who you are; it requires you to be who you are.”

    I am made up of contradictions, and basically so is everyone else. Perhaps the key to a life really lived is whether we embrace our contradictions. Perhaps the key to a life fully lived is simply not hiding, and speaking openly about all the contradictory or confusing parts of ourselves. And perhaps it’s the illusion of perfection – the decorations we use to hide imperfections or the people who put a lot of energy into looking or seeming put together – that is our red flag for situations and people that are not authentic.

    My home is filled with random stuff, what you might characterize as contradictions. Our family rooms are filled with pieces that mean something or that I just like, regardless of whether or not they go together – so vacation mementoes sit next to antique marbles, old hymnals are next to Nancy Drew books, handmade kid crafts are on the same shelf as crystal, and stainless steel is in the same view as red barn doors and old quilts. I am done with trying to make me and make my home look congruous.

    I am made up of contradictions, and the contradictions are what make me me.

  • First Day of School

    First Day of School

    It’s the first day of school and I’m up before the sun, hours before any alarms go off, excited about your year ahead and praying for your year ahead.

    Each year of school brings so many new milestones, from new kinds of math to discoveries about yourself to lessons about people and relationships. As your understanding grows, the world gets bigger and bigger – the number of people and things you impact gets bigger and the number of people and things that impact you gets bigger.

    And so I pray for your growth, in height because I know that’s important to you and in knowledge, faith and spirit because that’s what’s most important to me.

    I pray for your protection, from all forces and people that would harm you physically, mentally or spiritually. And I pray for your discernment to recognize those bad forces that you’ll undoubtedly encounter, and that you will steer clear of them.

    I pray you’ll be intentional about your choices. That you won’t expect opportunities and jobs and friendships and relationships to just happen to you. Sometimes the things in your life that seem easy or seem to just fall in your lap are not right for you, and if you’re living intentionally you’ll see that they are distractions from your best choice and your best life.

    I pray that you’ll be intentional about your thought patterns and your peace. That you make choices to discard negative thoughts about yourself and others, that you seek friendships that add to your peace and positivity and joy and happiness, that you set boundaries to enable peace to thrive in your life, and that you actively hold on to your peace.

    I pray that you will not forget who you are and Whose you are. And that when you make choices that aren’t the best, that you never forget that you are always loved and forgiven.

    I pray you will be kind, to others and to yourself. Everyone you encounter each day struggles in some way, and I pray you will have empathy and patience and that you will see what God wants you to see in each person and in yourself.

    I pray that you will see you as God sees you.

    I pray that in the big scheme of things you will put greater focus on how things look on the inside of you than how your hair and makeup and outfit make the outside of you appear.

    I pray you will have fun. That you will enjoy your life, that you won’t take embarrassing things that happen too seriously, that you will find the funny in all things, and that you will make the fun when you or others are struggling to smile.

    I pray that you will love learning, and not just the stuff you’re going to read in books or online resources. I pray for your passion – that as your knowledge of subjects grows you’ll want to know more and more, that as your knowledge of the world grows you’ll want to go out into it more and more, and that as your knowledge of injustice grows you’ll want to act more and more.

    I pray you will surround yourselves with friends of all different kinds and perspectives. Kids who will introduce you to different kinds of thinking and music and art and play and faith. And I pray you will see the value in every single difference and person.

    I pray that you will not give up. You will sometimes want to, after a long hour or day or week, or when you’re halfway through a project and realize you need to start over. At those moments you’ll feel frustrated and you’ll cry, and maybe you’ll scream inside or have an actual shouty tantrum. It’s OK to embrace all those feelings and even to get sucked into them for a little while, but then I pray you’ll shake it off and get back to the task at hand or to simply living.

    I pray that wherever you are, you will always know that you can call me or text me to help you or to help your friends or to help your enemies. I pray that while you may fret that something will make me mad, that that fear will be overridden by the truth that I love you and I want what’s best for you. That the fear that something will make me disappointed will be overridden by the truth that nothing you do could make me not love you and that I have been in your shoes and have made the tough call you’re dreading to my own parents.

    And finally, on your first day of school I pray for me. That I will have the courage to face my fears and let you fly further. That I will give you just the right amount of space and room to grow. That I will not do too many things for you and I will allow and encourage you to do more yourself. That I will remember that most people and kids are good, and that you are not actually in danger the vast majority of the time. And that I will successfully resist the urge to smother you with kisses at the bus stop.

    I also pray that I will remember this day specifically. I’ll remember that Ella Facetimed with her best friend at 5:30 am so they could “get ready together.” I’ll remember that big-girl Audrey set out lipstick and perfume along with her shoes.

    And I pray I’ll remember that as I walked around the house turning off all the lights before going to work, I realized that girl bathrooms don’t change much with the generations – countertops are covered with makeup and hairspray and devices that are absolutely required for us to look just right for the day.

  • City Management

    City Management

    I manage a city. I manage a city, and I have every job within the city.

    When things go awry with my children or their friends, or even with kids at school they don’t really know, I am on the other end of the 9-1-1 call. My job is to ask just enough questions to assess risk and recommend action, but not upset the balance so much that they don’t call again because I overreacted to their call for help.

    Sometimes there’s a fire and I can show my girls how they can extinguish it. Sometimes there’s a fire and I need to put it out for them. Sometimes I know without a second thought that a fire will eventually die out without causing any damage, and I just let that issue smolder. Sometimes the fire in our lives is 4-alarm and requires multiple trucks and stations – family and neighbors and helpers.

    I restore the peace as children disagree. Issuing citations and enforcing time out periods, in hopes of deterring bad behavior. I also investigate friends that seem to not be good influences.

    I fix booboos of all kinds on everything from knees to hearts. Jumping into ambulances and speeding off with lights and sirens to get help when basic triage isn’t working.

    I clean up spills and overflows and experiments. Slime. Paint. Markers. Sharpies. Lotion potions. Cat throw-up. Marshmallow explosions in the microwave.

    I am the collector of garbage. Everything from candy wrappers to an entire box of tissues used during a make-up lesson. I am also the one who sweeps up after all the emotional messes created by others – the hurt and anger and pain that children hide until they can get home, when it all comes pouring out on the parent they trust to love them and be there for them no matter how much they melt down.

    I am the provider of water, earlier in my career called upon as a way to delay bedtime and later in my career called upon for a glass of water even if a child is physically closer to the kitchen but cannot possibly get up off the couch.

    Just like Miss Utility, my children call on me when digging into things. They need help carefully navigating all the wires and pipes that could cause pain and really hurt them.

    I am one central office in the municipal center that grants or denies permits for all things. Painting a new color in a bedroom, sleepovers, extended bed times, bowling with boys, favorite cute shorts on 50 degree days.

    I am aware of all children in proximity to my children and constantly keeping track of who has been on antibiotics at least 24 hours without a fever, who around us isn’t vaccinated, and who has food allergies.

    I oversee transportation. Bus rides to school, rides to and from activities. I arrange more than just the transport of people but also all that is needed for the “thing” – a backpack, a suitcase, a musical instrument, a bathing suit, a sports physical form, a costume, or simply just a brush and make-up.

    I am a 9-1-1 operator, a firefighter, a police officer, an EMT, a member of the HAZMAT team, and a sanitation worker. I am public utilities, the public health inspector, VDOT, and even Animal Control.

    I am a Mom.

    Some days my city runs more smoothly than others. Some days there are no fires or traffic. Some days I know a storm is coming and I can batten down all the hatches and protect the city. Some days an unexpected yet utterly predictable earthquake strikes, plunging our city into darkness – and then I spend days managing the anxiety and realizations brought on by the event and its aftershocks.

    Some days I think I need more focus on city planning and other days I think I need more focus on emergency services. Balance is the key, I guess, and that’s constantly a work in progress – for any Mom and in any city.

    I don’t think Pete Buttigieg really has a chance at becoming the President, but I love this summary of his: In local government, it’s very clear to your customers – your citizens – whether or not you’re delivering. Either that pothole gets filled in, or it doesn’t. The results are very much on display, and that creates a very healthy pressure to innovate.

    It’s Monday in my city, the beginning of the last week of summer. The week for final back-to-school preparations, annual vaccinations, water balloon fights, and beginning to rein in our desire to sleep in. Next week my city will change again as school buses fill the roads and schedules change. It’s time for change and it’s time for innovation. That means it’s time for granting more space and showing more trust in smart girls who are growing and maturing, it means fixing some potholes here and there, and it even means constructing some new roads.

    It’s time to double down on the brave.

    Brave parenting. Brave city management. Brave new paths.

    This is one of my favorite pictures of my house – the hub of my little city. My neighbor took this picture on the night of the super moon in January 2018. I love, love, love that it looks like a giant star of light hovering above our home…a giant light hovering above my city. It’s one of my reminders that darkness did not and does not defeat light.

  • Help Me To See

    Help Me To See

    For the last couple of weeks, I’ve been focused on this mantra: God, help me to see what you want me to see. A speaker at a retreat I attended shared that she’s been starting her day that way, and it stuck with me.

    God, help me to see what you want me to see.

    We see and process thousands of images each day. Tens of thousands. Our brains process what we see in milliseconds, and then do things like tell our eyes what to look at next or create a smile in response to joy.

    Everything we see communicates something to us. We may need to see more in something or we may need to see (or “read”) less into something, but everything we see has a message. And as we interact with people throughout the day, I think the vast majority of what we see is based on choices – our choices, the choices of others, and our reaction to the choices of others. Our brains process, we make judgements based on, and we have reactions to or feelings about things like what someone chose to wear, what attitude someone chose to have, or what action someone chose to take or not take.

    What we see in ourselves and in others is a lot about choices. And the more I purposely focus on God help me to see what you want me to see the more the word “you” becomes important. God help me to see what YOU want me to see.

    About 18 months ago, I journaled about choices:

    * We are all a product of our choices.

    * Our choices reveal who we are.

    * Our choices reveal our priorities.

    * Choices that are easy moment to moment often end up being costly.

    * Everything in our lives is a reflection of our choices. What we are or are not is a reflection of our choices.

    * If you’re an adult, you make and made your own choices. No one but you is responsible for the life you’re living. One of the many choices throughout any given day is to turn around or not, to restart on a new path, or be lazy, or continue on a path of bad choices.

    * If you have children, literally every choice you make impacts them somehow.

    * Loyalty is a choice. Integrity is a choice. Love is a choice. Hate is a choice. Forgiveness, Honesty, Courage, Vengeance, Bitterness, Presence, Busyness, Learning, Happiness, Faith, Patience are all choices.

    * Your reactions to the behavior of others are choices.

    * Not making a choice or letting others choose for you are choices.

    * Your background and experiences shaped who you are, but where you are or are not in life goes back to your choices. You are not a victim of the choices of others unless you choose to be, but you are simply the product of your own choices.

    * You have the freedom to choose anything and everything, with the exception of the consequences of your choices.

    I went looking for that entry a couple days ago and have reread it several times trying to decide if the list is complete. It’s not, and this is what’s missing: choices are the primary thing we see in people.

    No words I speak ever communicate as clearly or as loudly as the choices I make. No words we speak ever communicate as clearly or as loudly as the choices people see us make. No art we create and no words we write tell the story of who we are like the choices people see us make. What conveys the truth about what we actually believe in are the choices we make. What conveys who and what is actually the priority in our lives are the choices people see us make. No one has more influence over the message of who we are than we do, and that’s because the only person responsible for our choices is us.

    Choice is our most powerful communication tool. Our choices are greater than any spoken or written I love you. Our choices are the proof.

    And the reality that choice is our most powerful communication tool is even more significant for parents. Children often don’t understand our grown-up words, so all they have to go on is the choices they see us make. And as children get a little older they don’t believe the words we say because they don’t want to listen to anyone or even because we’ve let them down before, so they look at the choices they see us make. We have to constantly assess what our choices are showing them. That’s when God help me to see what you want me to see becomes God help me to see what my children see in me.

    God help me to see what you want me to see. Help me to see what you want me to see in me. Help me to see what you want me to see in others. Help me to see what I’m communicating with each choice I make. Help me to see.

  • Closet Space

    Closet Space

    One of the best experiences in the days when your house becomes just yours is that moment when you realize that the closet belongs wholly to you. No sharing. No things hanging haphazardly and with no real organization. Tie racks become scarf organizers. Purses and shoes reside just above their corresponding clothes.

    The closet is all yours.

    All. Yours.

    You hear a little hallelujah chorus, and that chorus grows into full-on thank you, Jesus, worship.

    There’s been only one thing hanging in my closet that doesn’t belong there: my old wedding dress. Almost two years ago now, I pulled it out to throw it away only to discover that others were not quite ready for that step. Since then it’s just been hanging way in the back, taking up space.

    Over time we’ve talked more about the dress, and my firm belief that the girls should never wear it or even use the fabric. I’m a faith person, but I’m also a bit of a superstitious person – and if they ever decide to get married I want everything associated with their day and their union to have positive energy.

    Over time we’ve all become more comfortable with the idea of that dress not hanging in my closet for all of eternity. Over that same time I’ve become significantly more light-hearted, and laughed about the variety of things people do with their old dresses – everything from playing paintball in them to having a bonfire with them to mailing them to an ex’s office (now how funny would that be?).

    Until recently, I had every intention of simply throwing it in a dumpster. But I happened to catch a bit of a news story last week about brides who can’t afford gowns, and I was struck by their faces when they encountered dresses they never would have been able to get otherwise.

    And that made me think again about my dress, purchased from Karen Eagle on Laskin Road more than 20 years ago. A dress stored following exact instructions, and likely a dress in perfect condition.

    It seemed wrong to donate a dress that was worn on the first day of a marriage that was filled with lies and ended in complete disaster. It seemed like some poor girl would start off her marriage by wearing a dress that had really bad juju, and her marriage would subsequently be destined for disaster.

    And yet, what if a dress is just a dress? What if it’s just fabric, and the energy associated with it has nothing to do with its history? What if something good came from it? What if God could make something beautiful from ashes?

    My late night musings became a prayer over the dress. A prayer for the next girl who will wear it. A prayer specifically for her marriage.

    • May you decide each day to choose happy.
    • May your partner actually be your partner, with the same values and focus on family.
    • May you both keep and honor your vows, to God and one another.
    • May every I love you that you speak and hear be heartfelt and full of truth.
    • May you know deep in your heart that you are not a person in relation to someone else – you are whole and beloved and perfect all on your own, and in marriage you’re a whole person alongside another whole person.
    • May all the dreams that are good for you come true.
    • May God save you from dreams and hopes that you don’t know aren’t right for you. And then may you have the wisdom and courage to not chase that which God has saved you from.
    • When dark days come, and they inevitably will, may you and your partner always look to the Light together.
    • May your marriage last until death do you part.

    This morning on the way to work, I stopped at Goodwill and I laughed with the young man at the center about whether or not I should take the tax deduction receipt. It felt really, really good to make that donation, to get rid of that baggage, and to free up that space in my closet and in my spirit. And yet just a few minutes up the road I started to have second thoughts about whether or not a prayer for some unknown girl unknowingly wearing my cursed dress will really make everything work out okay for her.

    I know God has to be so tired of me asking for signs. I am the worst kid, always demanding: show me a sign, I just need a sign. How do I know this was the right thing?! Was this the wrong thing?

    And then I looked up as the traffic light turned green and noticed the car in front of me. It’s license tag, my sign: G Is Good.

    God is good.

    God is good, so I can trust that the girl who ends up with that dress will be just fine.

    She might be a young bride; she might be an old bride. She might be a formal wedding bride; she might be a JOP bride. She might be a first-time bride; she might be a second-time bride. Or she might just be a girl who needs a Halloween costume – and that’s a pretty fitting ending in this case, too.

    To whoever ends up with the dress, may blessings chase you down.