Brave, Anyway

Tag: work in progress

  • Crankypants Notes

    Crankypants Notes

    Hurry up and wait is the current story of my life. Rush to get into the parent pickup line, then wait while teens saunter to cars filled with other rushing parents. Rush to the airport, then wait because the plane isn’t even there yet.

    I generally make notes while I wait, and the tone of those messages is greatly impacted by the music choice I’ve made that day. Hollow Coves and worship music produce calm and thoughtful words, while The Beastie Boys might lead to firm or cynical words.

    My notes usually go somewhere later – logged in a contact management system, pasted into a journal, or sent in an email. But occasionally I open my notes and find that my screen is full of oddball entries that had nowhere to go. They are just mini-rants from days I did not choose peace, or my crankypants notes.

    Emus are supposedly docile. Except the females.
    They are the queens of crankypants.

    1. My box of Raisinettes has never made it through the previews. Also, $5 for a box of Raisinettes is highway robbery, so I will continue to buy movie candy at Target and sneak it into the theater.

    2. The time for living my best life is half over. I will waste none of it eating asparagus or honeydew, wearing a bra that’s uncomfortable, or drinking cheap wine.

    3. When you’re young, bras can be cute or sexy. When you’re old, bras have a job to do.

    4. Top 3 things that are not going to work for me: places without AC, anything starting after 8 pm, and people who don’t choose my girls or put my girls first.

    5. In a presentation about growth optimization, I will spend a dumb amount of time thinking that I missed the opportunity to establish evenly distributed growth of menopause pounds.

    6. Value propositions aren’t just important at work, when reviewing contracts and partnerships. We need to fully understand what we and others bring to the table. And then not waste time.

    7 Pruning is a critical component of growth.

    Your 15 minutes are up.

    8. Grief photos don’t include makeup; those are called sadfishing photos.

    9. If it takes alcohol for you to get up and dance, just don’t dance. It’s not good.

    10. If someone who deals with criminals tells you “(person) has done some of the shadiest shit I’ve ever seen,” what level of shady even is that? It turns out there’s a name for it: white collar shady. Won’t the real shady please stand up?

    Emus are one of the dumbest birds on the planet. I guess the message in that is time spent being a crankypants is when we’re at our dumbest.

    Hangry Emu
  • Words

    Words

    There are no words.

    I’ve sat down to write so many times in the last three months, but each time I get up and walk away because I simply have no words.

    It’s not disappointing. It’s not frustrating. It simply is.

    Each time I wonder what it says that I don’t even care that the words are all gone. And each time I smile as I’m reminded of a trip to the Hallmark store a few years ago. I needed a condolence card and the first one I picked up said only “There are no words.” I can have no words all on my own and for free – the whole point of Hallmark is they are supposed to have the words.

    I do still have words for Words With Friends. Name and profile picture removed to protect the one with the high streak of two.

    Things that I have always been passionate about do not matter right now. What’s happening in Israel and Gaza, elections, legislation, court decisions, health care. My current world is small, focused just on family as we navigate loss and change. My current job is big, getting us all through this season of loss and change.

    I am task after task after task. Trying to predict and prepare for what others will need, trying to appropriately respond as very different people grieve very differently, and often afraid to really think about what I think about it all because I cannot risk a dam breach right now.

    Sometimes I don’t even have words when I pray. So I simply sit and remind myself that in Romans, God says that when we don’t know what to pray the Spirit knows and He takes care of it. And then I hope that my cavalier attitude about not having words is not frustrating to God.

    The path forward is pretty clear most days. And I even wonder how that is, and if that’s okay, and what that really means or says about me. Am I able to move forward and get stuff done because I care(d) less than others? Am I just more experienced at compartmentalizing? Am I a biblical Martha who just always focuses too much on the tasks? Is a massive dam breach coming? Is it today? There is no end to what I can overthink.

    And yet, I know that everything is and will be okay. I was reminded of it this weekend when one of my favorite worship songs came up in the shuffle. Tauren Wells singing Echo always gives me a boost, but the words hit different (Taylor Swift!) this time. Your love is holding on and it won’t let go.

    When I don’t have words or peace or answers or prayers, I sometimes wonder if God is far away or busy or that I’ve done something really wrong or that I don’t have enough faith. None of those things is true. I may not be doing a good job of holding on to Him, but He’s still doing His part of holding on to me.

    Our household love language is constantly trading memes and reels.
  • Good Grief

    Good Grief

    There’s no right way to grieve people say. To people who are grieving I say There’s no one right way to grieve.

    I am unsure if people mean it when they say it or if they are just offering encouragement. What I am sure of is that after seeing countless family and friends grieve people and situations and lives they’d hoped to have, I mean it when I say it to them. What I am equally sure of is that I do not think that it applies to me, because often it feels like I’m grieving all wrong.

    Losing my Dad and my bonus Dad five weeks apart has me asking myself each night if I did the right things that day, if how I am feeling is too much or too little, if they would agree with what I said or did, if I’m setting the right example for my girls, if God is rolling His eyes at me or pleased. And every day I fall asleep still having no idea, really.

    My father-in-law lived with us for almost 15 years. Ella does not remember a time when her Papa Ted wasn’t downstairs. I’m thankful for his consistent and loving presence in their lives, and his support on all their hard days. I’m thankful that he got his wish to spend all his days at home, not in a hospital or in a “place old people go to die.” And I’m thankful that he embraced the unconventional, and that together we showed the girls what family is truly about.

    Grief is so many things throughout each day. It’s sadness when you want to tell that person something. It’s frustration that you suddenly have to figure out a bunch of stuff. It’s happiness that your loved ones are no longer held back by old bodies. It’s anxious idleness during the times of day you previously had tasks with or for them.

    Navigating grief is like driving through the streets in Grand Theft Auto or The Transporter. Sometimes you’re looking for something, sometimes you’re racing, sometimes you make a quick turn to avoid something, sometimes you accomplish something and feel great and celebrate, sometimes something unexpected hits you hard, sometimes great music comes on and makes you smile, sometimes you screech to a halt and don’t know what to do next.

    My current stage of grief is the one with no sappy or slow music of any kind. The Beastie Boys, Eminem and DMX are all safe. Even on the way to church: The Humpty Dance. It’s also the one where I limit the number of people I talk to in a day, where I fall asleep at 8 pm and wake up at 1 with a dozen thoughts all vying for attention, and where I am so secretly enraged at Audrey’s teacher for giving homework that I consider all the steps it would take to find her address and print 100 copies of the work we did and attach them to real estate signs that could then be placed all over her yard. How’s that for showing my work?!

    It’s also the stage where I really want hugs but wonder in the middle of them if I am really doing it right, or at least OK.

    The house is different. The world is different. Maybe I’m different – I’m not sure yet. But a new season is ahead, one where God is going to do a new thing. Whatever that new thing is, today it seems far away. Today’s job is to drive carefully, no tickets and no tricks on just two tires.

  • Freedom

    Freedom

    Do you make New Year’s resolutions?

    I never know the right age to divulge more information to the girls. Should I just say yes because they’re going to do it in school or should I really say what I think and practice? And most importantly, will my truth result in an email from a teacher who thinks I’m the craziest parent ever when one of my girls repeats something I’ve said?

    I do not understand New Year’s resolutions. Once you’re a grownup, when you realize you need to do something differently you need to do something differently. Starting right then. Combine that with the fact that we abandon 80% of resolutions within 30 days, and I think we can deduce that the vast majority of the time the vast majority of us just don’t want to do the hard work to do or be better.

    I found myself admitting to Audrey that I do not make New Year’s resolutions. However, I do end each year and begin each year by reflecting on three things:

    (1) What are the ways that the past year’s word were fulfilled in my life?

    (2) What is my word for the coming year?

    (3) Is my list still good or do I need to make changes or additions?

    I have a word each year. A point of focus that I talk to God about, journal about, research, look for signs of, speak out loud, and expect to make progress in. In the past few years, my words have been things like fruit and promise and I can easily name how God showed up in my life in those years in those ways. So my words are also a way to practice and stir up my faith. Because I don’t always feel so faith-filled, and maybe more often than not am a bit of a doubting Thomas.

    My word for the coming year is freedom. Among dozens of other things on the topic of freedom, the Bible says we are called to freedom and that God responds to us and sets us free. There’s also the obvious the truth shall set us free. But the one nugget I like the most (so far) is that we are not to let ourselves be burdened again or to let go of our freedom. That implies that we already have freedom – and yet I don’t feel very free in several areas of my life. Perhaps this year will bring freedom from some negative thought patterns or the expectations of others, or maybe it will bring greater freedom in my mind and heart to dream bigger or simply to be silly more. It’s only day 2 and the possibilities are endless.

    And then there’s my list. The list of things that I want to be true for Ella, Audrey and I. I started it long ago in my phone and it helps center my thoughts and prayers for us – and as we all get older and the world gets bigger, new things get added to the list. The old faithfuls are that we are healthy physically and spiritually and mentally, and that we are full of hope, givers of grace, brave. As we got further into the teen and tween years I made additions like we embrace helpers and help, we enjoy school and work, we are safe and trustworthy friends, and we make good choices. And now this year, as Ella in particular has big decisions coming up, that we seek God’s plan for us, that we are not enticed by distractions, that we are honest with ourselves.

    I do have two constant resolutions: to put my girls first in all things and to be the best Mom I can be. On days when the house is tense because we’re all arguing about curfews or the length of shirts or how it’s OK to need help, I don’t feel like I’m doing a very good job. One of the things I need to be free of is the in-the-moment worry that their anger with me means they’ll act out or hate me. It’s on those days that the list reminds me of what’s really important and all the ways that things are going right.

    Our friend Abby took this photo of us a month or so ago. It’s one of my reminders that we can go from happy to mad to playful to dessert at The Cheesecake Factory all within about a 2 hour time period.
  • Sometimes What We Think Is All Wrong

    Sometimes What We Think Is All Wrong

    When I was a teenager, I told a small group of girls a secret that ended up getting out. At the time it was earth-shattering because the secret was who I had a crush on. I was absolutely convinced that I knew who “told” and I was so angry at her. I came home ranting about it and my Dad said something that has always stuck with me – you don’t know it was her, and it’s probably the person you least expect.

    Sometimes what we think is all wrong.

    I’ve been thinking about this line all summer. At home. At work. As a mom. As a reader. As a voter. As a processor of data and information. As a girl. As a friend. As a consumer. As a Christian.

    The earth is flat. Nope, turns out the earth is round.

    At midnight on December 31, 1999, all computers will stop working! Wrong again, and much of the world drank champagne or slept through the big nothing that happened.

    How about the beliefs (irrational fears) of southern parents in the 1980s? Kids wearing all black was a sign of something bad and hanging with the wrong crowd, maybe playing Dungeons and Dragons. Madonna, MTV and Garbage Pail Kids would all lead to sex or drugs or evil or all of the above. Our marriage to the idea that things that look and feel different are evil means we don’t easily recognize evil when it shows up wealthy and wearing a suit – presidents, justices, financiers. Or perhaps I just watched too much of the Smurfs and they made me a crazy communist.

    Why are we so tied to beliefs and someone else’s talking points that we’ve never really thought about or researched ourselves, while at the same time dependent on others to make progress by constantly questioning and learning? When we or someone we love gets a diagnosis, at least in part we look to medicine – filled with curious and constantly researching people who’ve asked themselves some version of what if what I think is all wrong? over and over and over again.

    Why don’t we apply our belief that constant learning is good in one area to all areas of our lives? Is it that we’re afraid to admit we were wrong? Is it that we’re afraid to upset God?

    When Ella was 5-ish, she came home from Sunday School questioning the teaching. Mommy, people don’t get swallowed by whales and live. I was horrified, and I’m also pretty sure I emphatically said we should not say those kinds of things while at Sunday School. When I anxiously talked to Pastor Chuck about how to talk to her about it and what to do, he laughed and wasn’t worried at all. Another way to look at it, he said, is that Ella is always going to know exactly what she believes and why, because she is really going to think about it – and that meant she would be able to explain it to others with something better than the likes of that’s what so-and-so taught me or that’s how I was raised.

    I’ve always struggled with a feeling that it’s wrong to have doubts. That it’s wrong to question. Especially as it relates to God and faith. But how can we really know what we think unless we consider all angles? How can we really know what we think unless we read the Bible for ourselves and ask ourselves what if what I think is all wrong?

    The more I think about it, the more I think there is nothing to fear on that path except that we may have to admit that we were wrong at some point.

    What if I am operating out of fear, and giving the girls space to make some of their own decisions is the best way for them to learn?

    What would I do differently if this process had 10 people instead of 5, or if the 5 had a better computer or program?

    What if the dress that I think is a little too short for Ella makes her feel great about herself and is the boost she needs during a tough week?

    What in the Bible definitively tells me God cares about health care? About women preaching? About abortion? And have I read it myself along with the content surrounding it so I have context?

    Maybe instead of being wary of people who have changed what they think or who aren’t sure what they think, we should be wary of the people who are afraid to question or admit they have questions. More than halfway though this life, perhaps it’s more of a red flag if someone hasn’t had an experience that changed them and how they think. We’re not supposed to never be wrong; we’re supposed to do better when we know better.