Drop the Mama Guilt and Get Resourced

I’m a mindful parent. I also work with parents every day to bring more compassion and mindfulness into their lives, including their parenting. I think it’s fabulous how much attention parenting is getting these days. What drives me nuts are posts on some parenting sites and blogs that guilt mamas (and dads) into loving every minute of being a parent and being absolutely perfectly present in every moment.

Holy tamole. It’s too much! There is soooooooooo much focus on how to parent in loving and kind ways – how to effectively manage tantrums, teenagers talking back, and messy rooms. (Actually there is too much information out there that folks don’t know where to go and what to advise to listen to…and so they feel frozen).

And while that’s great, what I DON’T see much of is this: resourcing mom and dad. Teaching mom and dad how to be gentle and kind to ourselves. How to allow ourselves to be human. How to be present to our own hearts and yearnings and sadness and yes, even rage and mourning. And learning to gently tend to and nourish ourselves.

That’s the “harder” stuff. You can focus on discipline strategies ‘til you are blue in the face and things may change…for a moment. But the realllll shifts in our lives AND in our children (and their behavior) come from this: mom and dad learning to be kind and compassionate with our own selves.

We all want our children to grow to become confident, happy, and compassionate adults. A sure way to support this is for us to be kind and gentle with ourselves – to be with whatever rises up within us, responding with compassionate attention.

THIS is the foundation of every single effective parenting or disciplining strategy.

So enooooooough focus on guilting mama into loving every moment of the day. Enooooough telling us that “oh you’d better savor it because…” WE GET IT. Instead, let’s focus on the harder stuff to explain and put into words. Let’s focus on the murkier work. Let’s focus our attention on our own hearts and bodies. Ask yourself: what do you love? What is drawing your attention – from the depths of you?

Let yourself be silently drawn
by the strange pull of what you really love.
It will not lead you astray.
~ Rumi ~

Be the goddess you are. Be the goddess you are called to be. Maybe that means speaking your truth in a way that has been silenced for too long. Maybe that means wearing soft, flowy sensual clothing in fabrics that allow you to move and breathe. Maybe that’s creating, making art, painting, writing. Whatever it is, do it.

(By the way…the blogs/websites on my Blog Roll are about resourcing mamas!)

This is what love feels like

This is What Love Feels Like

Laying down
for a nap
with my daughter

curled up with
my belly
to her back
my arms
around her
little almost
three year old
body

little feet
resting on
my thighs

rhythmic
breathing
deeply
together

we sleep

sacred
holy
complete

this
is
what
love
feels
like.

Lisa A. McCrohan, 2013

I can’t

Moms.  We are a powerful bunch.  Blood, vomit, skinned knees and elbows, broken bones, broken hearts, lost lovies, middle of the night hugs and holding.  Can’t find your favorite blanket?  No problem.  Want to play basketball this winter?  We’ll get you there.  Gotta do a fundraiser?  Let’s do it.  We make it happen.  We handle it.

But in a world of perfect pinterest pictures and crafts and recipes; in a world where ultimately the buck stops with us; in a world where many of us don’t have the luxury of generations of women with us throughout the day…

…we can feel responsible…for EVERYthing.  How our children act and feel, how the house looks, the finances, menus for meals, making sure our kiddos get enough rest and love and warm clothes and friends and piano practice and exposure to the arts, birthday parties, homemade cupcakes, the right presents…etc etc.

We are the family’s pediatrician, chef, party planner, CPA, soccer coach, chauffeur, social planner, interior designer, hair dresser, breadwinner, school board rep, historian and picture taker…

We get up. We make it happen.  Kiddos are bathed and dressed and sometimes we are, too.

But over the years, though I have felt this ever increasing surge of “at the end of the day, I’m responsible for it all,” I have also found myself saying, “I can’t do it.”

And more and more on a regular basis.

This morning was one of those “I can’t” days.

I can’t stay up till midnight editing family pictures in time for today’s party and get up early and not be exhausted.  I can’t be present to my kiddos when they seem to really just need ME this morning and do the final touches on my presents for family.  I can’t make homemade butternut squash soup, vacuum (at least the main floor!), straighten up, clean the main bathroom, get dressed, get the kiddos fed and happy and off each other, get Christmas cards in the mail, get to mass, get ready for the party at our house WHILE BRIAN IS AT WORK.

I can’t do it alone.

“I can’t do it,” I found myself silently saying to myself as I threw the unbaked butternut squash back into the frig and responded harshly to the kiddos asking for a snack and looked at the disaster of a kitchen.  I called Brian, “I can’t do it.”

A tightness gripped my stomach and spread up to my throat.  I had to admit I couldn’t do it today.

I am not super mom. And though I don’t try to be, I admit, there are times I feel “responsible” as though I were super mom.

Today, this morning, I am tired and cranky and alone mom.  I am  frazzled mom.  I am in-need-of-a-nap-and-some-help mom.  I am in-need-of-breakfast mom.

I couldn’t and I didn’t.

Unknowingly, my dear friend and neighbor happened to call in the middle of it all.  “I’m going to the Common Market, do you need anything?”

God bless you!  “Yes, I need twine!”

“Twine?”

“Yes, twine.  To wrap the cards I made for the girls in my family.”

“I’ve got some.  It’s in tangled in a ball — the kiddos got to it and….”

She didn’t even have to explain.  I got it.  And she got me!

My five year old, who is always spot on and honest and an extrovert who shares, “Mom, you’re kind of like Aunt Petunia this morning (the awful aunt in Harry Potter).  What gives?” And he gave me a hug.

So Brian came.  I slept.  He made the soup, put Clara down for a nap, and straightened up enough.  And from upstairs, I heard…nothing.  And it was beautiful.

I received their kindness today.

We’ve all heard, “Tis better to give than to receive.”

Nope.  It’s harder to receive.  When you give, you are in control.  You are “on top.”  Often someone feels indebted to you.  You get a warm, fuzzy feeling and often a warm and verbose “THANK YOU!”

When you receive…you are brought to the vulnerable raw, helpless, needy parts of yourself.  You are humbled by your own weakness and often times…brokenness.

It’s hard to be in that place.  God forbid we admit being needy and vulnerable and unable to “make it happen.”

Over the years of having kiddos I have been brought to my knees many times — in prayer, sleep deprived and exhausted rocking and nursing, to the toilet vomiting (mine or my kiddos), the floor wiping up god knows what spilled, and into the arms of my Brian saying, “I can’t do it.”

It’s hard to admit that.  But I can’t.  I can’t be present to my kiddos and get a million things done.  I can’t be on the PTA, our CPA, FB, or…some other acronym…and cook homemade meals, blog every day, work, write, do yoga, meditate…..blah blah blah.

So I don’t.

But I can do a few things. And do them with love and attention and kindness.  And that’s what my life is about — being mindful of slowing down, of noticing what really matters, of being ok with not having it all together.  That’s what parenting is teaching me.

I…we all..can do one thing in a moment instead of mulit-tasking and busying our lives and doing a crappy job at it.

We can sllllllllow down.

Leave the dishes.  Forget nicely wrapped presents.  Slow down and receive the moment.

Receive…

This breath.

This hug from your little one,

this Grace,

this help,

this kindness from others.

And so, this morning, my “act of kindness” was to myself (and ultimately, my family!).  I took a nap so I’d wake up as Lisa. Not Aunt Petunia.  Lisa whose eyes smile tenderly at my little ones. Lisa whose can greet family and make folks feel welcomed and loved.  Lisa who can handle a new marble game all over the floor.  Lisa who can hold Little C all afternoon.   Lisa who can read another chapter and another and another of “The MAgic Tree House” to my son.  Lisa who can say, “Thank you” to Brian at the end of a beautiful, humbling day.

Tips for Parenting with Compassion #9: Intrinsic vs. Extrinsic Rewards

Ok folks.  This seems to be coming up a lot.  Maybe I’m attuned to it, but I seem to be hearing this a lot lately.  I see it a lot with that Elf on a Shelf.  If you have one, get rid of it.  Yes, I feel that strongly about it.  It utilizes manipulation in order to get our kiddos to do something we want.  It is ALL about extrinsicly motivating kiddos.  It’s creepy and it’s fear based.

And I get it:  we parents are tired and under resourced.  Under stress, we default to what parenting strategies our parents used with us.  We want something easy and quick.  I get that.

But I am telling you, if you start focusing on INVESTING your time and energy into practicing some “Compassionate connection” strategies, you will soon see how SIMPLE it is.  No, not always EASY.  But the more and more you practice these, the more you build up that neuro pathway in your brain and CONNECTING with your child will become your default. You’ll see what a HUGE difference this makes in your relationship with your child.  AND you’ll notice a difference in your child.  Want a child to have faith in himself?  Want a teen to go within and sense for him or herself what is the right decision?  Want to nurture a child to become an adult who knows their passions and gifts, feels confident, and owns their life?  LIMIT YOUR EXTRINSIC REWARDS.

What’s the big deal with utilizing extrinsic rewards?

Using rewards actually BACKFIRES.  Research shows that kiddos do LESS of the behavior when they have been extrinsically rewarded!

Check out this article from Aha Parenting http://www.ahaparenting.com/_blog/Parenting_Blog/post/Bribery_versus_Incentives_and_Win_WIn_solutions/

Here is a great easy-t0read, short article.  http://www.naturalchild.org/jan_hunt/rewards.html.

I thought these two studies were interesting.  http://www.oncourseworkshop.com/motivation004.htm.

Here is a GREAT website to have on your bookmarks.  http://www.handinhandparenting.org/

Ok, so what do you do instead?

Well, let me start with an example.  Years ago, we were at the pediatrician’s office.  It was one of those appointments where my son was going to get a few shots.  The nurse came in and was like, “Oh, today’s appointment is a hard one!  But it’ll be over soon and maybe mommy will take you to McDonald’s because you were so brave!”

What do YOU think the problem with this was??  And don’t even get me started on using FOOD as a motivator!

INSTEAD of taking our son to McDonald’s, or giving him a toy or REWARDING him with any THING (or even a COMMENT from me such as: “Yes, you ARE so brave!”  Which, research shows, too, has a negative impact on a child’s sense of self-worth and negatively impacts behavior!), I FOCUSED ON CONNECTING WITH HIM.  I focused on being PRESENT with him, letting him know I was here with him and for him.  I DID NOT let the nurse hold him down (think: “trauma producing”).  I told the nurse how we’d do it.  YES, you heard that right — I told the nurse how we’d do it based on how I knew my child and what would work best for him.  That meant:  slowing down the appointment, not doing all the “scheduled” shots but the number I felt comfortable with, giving him a sense of empowerment by asking him what he needed, giving him information about the process (this was done WAAAY beforehand by reading to him about going to the doctor and letting him “practice” giving me shots), and letting him jump up when he was finished and move around and “let loose”, if you will.

Don’t get caught in our specifics.  These were things we did based on knowing our son.  The bottom line is instead of using extrinsic rewards, here are some  ideas:

1.  FOCUS ON CONNECTING WITH YOUR CHILD.

“I see you are hurting.  I’m here with you.”  Or for less dramatic times than shots, like dealing with a messy room, TALK TO THEM.  LISTEN to them.  Share how you feel.  Illicit their help in problem solving based on what everyone’s needs are.  (Get real with yourself.  What’s the REAL reason you want your child’s room to be clean?)

2.  Model the behavior you want. 

I was in the car the other day and the kiddos were not getting along.  I had it.  I was done.  I turned around and started yelling at them, “Aidan, I’m sick of you not being kind to your sister!  This has been going on all day!  Enough!  Start being kind to her NOW!”  What do you think happened?!  Clara started crying and said, “Mommy is angry.”  I looked in the rear-view mirror and Aidan was sinking down into his carseat — he felt horrible…about HIMSELF.  Yes, what irony:  I was wanting Aidan to be kinder and here I was yelling and threatening.  Don’t do that!   Instead… GET A GRIP.  This was all really about my OWN stuff (that’s another post) and I was tired (read: “not resourced”).  Instead, what would’ve been more helpful would have been to turn on some good music, start acting silly, illicit Aidan’s help in starting a game we could play.  I recognized this in the moment of yelling.  What did I do?  See #5 below.  And then I said to the kiddos: “Let’s have a redo.  I was mad.  I am tired.  I’m sorry.  Clara, I see you are upset.  Aidan, I see you scrunched down.  I don’t want that.  Can we regroup?  It’s been a long car ride.  Let’s put on some good xmas music and sing along.  How would that be?”  And it went MUCH smoother.

3.  Ask yourself, WHY DOES MY CHILD NEED BRIBERY or a REWARD for this behavior?? 

Really spend some time here.  Is it because I’m too exhausted (or stuck in a “shame cycle”) to be present with them?

4.  Dialogue with your child about the intrinsic rewards. 

Ask, “How do you feel when you share your book with your sister?”  Get them into their own bodies and hearts to notice what their internal experience is…and learn to trust it.  TALK to them about what’s HARD about doing their homework right after school.  TELL THEM about how you feel when you put your keys and purse and coat away right when you get home and the “reward” you get: ie, you can find your stuff again and you don’t have to worry about losing them.

5.  Ask yourself, “What is it I want?”  And: “What’s really going on here?”

Underneath the desire you have for your child to behave or certain way, there may be some hidden unmet need of YOURS going on.  When we use punishment or manipulation or cruelty, some part of us feels threatened, like we don’t have control, and fearful.  GET TO THE ROOT OF THAT!

My example from the car:  I was TIRED.  I had a long day and I needed a break.  Underneath the exhaustion was this thought: “Oh god, I’m a crappy parent.  I must be doing something wrong.  Otherwise he wouldn’t be acting like that.”  AND: “Oh my gosh, he’s going to do this for the rest of his life. “  AND: “He must feel like crap about himself and I must have failed him as a parent.”  That’s all MYYYYYYYY stuff.  Not my son’s.  THAT is what was really all motivating my REACTION (vs. response).

(*People often want to know what I do in that situation — when I recognize what’s really going on under the surface.  I try to pause.  I sloooooooow everything down.  I offer myself presence.  I offer myself compassion.  And that ALWAYS – yes always – results in opening up the space to then have compassion for others).

Ok, those are a few thoughts for this evening.  Put the elf thing away.   You don’t need it.  Your children don’t need it.  They just need you.  They need you resourced.  They need your kind eyes and safe presence.

Regarding life and the tragedy of Aurora: a possible response

The tragedy of Aurora, Colorado has me shaken.  The utter pointlessness of such violence, such trauma, such death, and such disregard for life stops me in my tracks.  How can someone feel so detached from their own humanness, their own heart, to their fellow sisters and brothers, that they disregard the sacredness of each and every life, including his own?

As a psychotherapist, I have my theories.  But as a mom, wife, sister, friend, and soulful human being, I only feel the earth deeply mourning.  Mourning those who have died, those who survived, and the loss of connection between human beings.  I believe all of heaven, all of creation groans and wails with the cries of those who are mourning in Aurora and every human being across the planet who is mourning in this moment.

How do we respond to such tragedy?

I know that in me asking “why” and judging, well, the “answers” aren’t found there.

From my meditation practice and my spiritual path, this is what I know:

Don’t close off.  Don’t shut down your heart.

Go back into your Self and touch your heart.

Keep your heart alive, soft, tender, and open.

Keep on connecting – to your own Heart, to the person lying next to you in bed, to your child tugging on your hem for “more milk, pweeease,” and to your neighbor — the one right next door, the one in the cubicle next to you, and the one you’ll never meet in Syria, China, Africa…

Keep connecting to your humanity, to what makes you human — this capacity to be moved by the suffering of your own self and others.  That’s called “compassion.”  Keep it alive.

We ALL want to love and be loved.  We all want to feel safe, held, sacred, and regarded.

I am certain of is this:  we must keep on regarding life.

Here, see my husband…holding a toad that happened to hop into our backyard “pad” one summer evening this past week.

See my children…their hearts and eyes wildly open with amazement and desire to connect and know this little creature.

My husband, teaching our children that all of life is to be regarded.

THIS IS HOW WE PREVENT SUCH TRAGEDY FROM HAPPENING AGAIN.

Pause and hold the smallest of creatures with regard — the ugly and the beautiful, the ones who “deserve it” and the ones who don’t, the ones we understand and the ones we don’t,  the ones we “like” and the ones we don’t.  Keep on softening your heart and opening your heart and connecting to every other living being.

I don’t do this every moment of every day.  I am short with my children, I get annoyed with my husband and I let him know about it, I say a few words in my car during rush “hour.”  But I practice waking up and coming back to my Heart.  I practice “CHOOSING TO SOFTEN” and open and act with compassion.  I practice connecting to every living being and remembering that they, too, have the same desires and hopes for safety, happiness, health, and ease.

I am hoping that such a journey of attempting to live with a compassionate and regarding heart will, over the years, teach my children to do the same.

Can you pray faster, mom?

Sitting at mass today, right after communion…

Wait, let me back up.  Our five year old son LOVES going to mass.  Why?  THE doughnut.

I won’t lie.  Yes, both my husband and I have master degrees in theology/pastoral ministry, I work for a Georgetown University, and Brian works for a Catholic Church.  And our oldest loves going to church for the once-a-week-quite-HOLY doughnut!  (Now our two year old daughter, she gets all excited to go because she still thinks that we are going to get up and sing and dance to the songs at mass from Vacation Bible School earlier this summer.  Poor honey.  We only did it once.  Now, every week, I have to tell her that we got up and danced and sang only one time before mass started to show folks what we learned at VBS.  I tried to console her by saying we could dance to the music in the car or at home – which we do – but she wanted nothing of it.  She wanted to be ON STAGE with a group of her “friends” dancing and singing.  Oh my.  Neither one of my children are wall flowers!  So I tell her I’ll get her out of the nursery early to hear the final closing song even though it’s not a VBS song and even though we won’t be getting up on stage.  She agrees. “Otay, mommy.”)

I am fine with this holy doughnut thing.  Our son says going to one of the small groups or the nursery to “help his sister” makes “mass time go by faster and the doughnut time come quicker.”  Obsessed, I tell you, for the chocolate with sprinkles kind.

Mind you, what is also going on is that our son thinks he is Batman.  Seriously.

Our Batman

But when he is “out on the town,” he wears a long-sleeve shirt with a cape on it, a white button down shirt, and a navy blue sports blazer.  This is his Bruce Wayne look.  He does this to hide the fact that he is Batman.  He doesn’t want anyone to know that he is Batman – unless there is an emergency that would require super-human strength, speed, and sense of justice.  So he is sitting here, in three layers of long-sleeves, looking around for any sign of someone needing a superhero.

His “Bruce Wayne” look

Ok today, we were late AS USUAL.  (I’m telling you, I used to be 10 minutes early to EVERYthing B.K.  – before kiddos.  I’ve – mostly – accepted the fact that we just are late now much more often than we are early.  To anything.  But plus, it’s hard to get to mass on time because it’s the start of our work week.  Brian works at the church we attend.  Getting everyone up and ready and out the door on Sunday morn is quite a feat).

So we were late.  Brian took Aidan (late) to the  chapel for the special children’s liturgy and then they all returned mid-mass.  So our son comes back in.  He sits for awhile (which, I think, takes superhero stillness for a kiddo to do.  I don’t mind him moving around.  I love how he hugs us and we hold him.  Even though he weighs 48 pounds).  Five minutes later, he asks to get a bagel — “yes, go ahead”, asks to get a drink of water “yes, go ahead”, and then finally it’s time for communion.  He loves going up with dad for a special blessing.

We go back to our seats and I feel a tug on my left side, “Mom…”

Me: “Yes?”

Our five year old: “Can we go get a doughnut now?”

Me: “Let me just pray for a moment.”

Silence.

Tug.

Me looking at my superhero son.

Five year old: “Mom, can you pray faster?  God likes those kinds of prayers, too!”

I cracked up.

I said, “Sure, go ahead.”

He took off with lightening speed.

I got a minute of silence as I watched our son bolt to donuts.  He even got one for his sister.

So today, I didn’t make it in time to hear the gospel.  And I heard about three minutes of te homily.  (Our daughter wasn’t havin’ it being in the nursery.  Brian was with her for awhile, I waited outside.  She grew comfortable and Brian left.  We went into mass.  Late.) I have absolutely no guilt about this.  I lost that Catholic guilt a long time ago.

God was right there, in that seat next to me, looking at me with sweet, loving, doughnut-obsessed eyes.

I think God likes chocolate with sprinkles, too.  (And dancing and singing up on the altar).

Running over a snake

I have no picture.  I didn’t want to take one.  There is one already etched in my mind.  The other evening, we were all packed up in the minivan and off to our friend’s house for a lovely evening to be had.  We parked.  We started to get out.  Then we noticed a HUUUUGE snake crossing the road (no joke!).

I am waaaaay freaked by snakes.  Ever since a dream when I was about seven.  I just freak out about them.  My children, on the other hand, are fascinated by them.  Even my two year old.  (“I wuuuuuuv snakes, mommy!”)

I noticed myself becoming incredibly nervous.  But I decided to engage in a new option:  be fascinated.  So I shouted to the kiddos in the back, “Hey guys!  Look!  A huuuuge snake up ahead!  It’s crossing the road!  Come see!”

My five year old leaped out of his carseat.  Brian went to unbuckle our two year old.

I noticed a truck stop by the snake.  I assumed they too were admiring this huge snake (that Brian insisted was NOT poisonous).  But they weren’t.  They were backing up.  They tried to run over the snake.

Again and again.  He backed up and tried to run over the snake while the snake hissed and tried to attack the truck.

I was in shock.  It all happened so quickly — here were my son and I sitting in the front seat of our car now.  Me – trying to be fascinated and face my fear of snakes for my kiddos’ delight.  My son – over the top excited and entranced by the snake.

Before I could act to turn my son’s gaze from watching, we saw it happen.  The truck ran over the snake.  It twitched and twitched.  “OH my god!  He ran over the snake! I’m so sorry!  Oh son, I’m so sorry!”  My heart ached as I watched the snake laying there.  A million things crossed my mind.  I have never ever seen someone right in front of me intentionally KILL another living being.  I mourned for this snake.  AND I DON’T EVEN LIKE SNAKES.  I FEAR them.  My heart SANK for my son as I pulled him close to me.  He was already weeping.

The truck pulled up beside us and gave us a thumbs-up.  I felt sick.  Physically sick.  My son was wailing.  A sound came from deep within him that I had never heard before.  Mourning.  Brian came around and held our son.  I took our daughter inside.  They prayed for the snake and sent it some healing energy.

I have never seen anyone take a life before.  But I’m an adult.  My little five year old — he is trying to make sense of the world, seeing that the world is a bit bigger than our sunshine-filled kitchen.  Brian was brilliant with how he held our son.

Ironically, later that night, at our friend’s house, after a huge rainstorm that we all watched from the porch, our friend had a “fake snake” (it still made me squirm) that he got from our local zoo.  My son and daughter both held it and hugged it.  Again my two year old, “I wuuuuv snakes, mommy!”  And our five year old hugged it tightly and asked, “Mom, if we go to the zoo and get one of these, can it sit at the table with us and eat dinner?”

That spirit of the that snake might be at our dinner table for a loooong time.  That somehow seems right.  Both Brian and I talked last night about how we didn’t do enough to get the truck to stop.  Shock or not.  Maybe we are doing enough in teaching our children that when people do mean things it’s because they are scared.  And to help them become “unscared.”  Maybe we are doing enough in teaching our children about compassion and a regard for life – whether or not we have “issues” with that life.  Maybe we are doing enough by comforting our children in ways that allow them to experience the fullest sense of their emotions…and for it to be OK.  That fake snake we will get at the zoo will be a reminder for me of just this.

And as our son was going to bed he said, “Mom, you don’t have to be afraid of snakes. Here’s what i’ll do.  Me and dad will tell you if we see a snake if it is poisonous or not.  If it’s poisonous, you can stay inside.  If it’s not, you can come out.  You’ll be safe, mom.  I’ll protect you this way.”

I’ll protect YOU this way, my son, by being honest with you, comforting you when you see the cruelty of life, and holding you until a “right response” rises up from within you and respond with offering your unique healing balm to this world.

Regarding Life

Today, on my way to work, winding around the beautiful Cabin John parkway in DC, next to the Potomac River, at 6:30 in the morning (yes, folks, it IS early), I saw a huge turtle trying to cross the road. 

I let out a gasp. Then I quickly looked around to see if there was a place to pull off. Of course there isn’t on the parkway. My heart sank. I know what will probably happen.

I started to think about how most people I know regard life. It’s in our being, our cells, our DNA, our wiring to have compassion. Even the driver next to me who was weaving in and out of traffic and being “not so kind” on the road saw the turtle too, and for a moment, we exchanged a heart-full and regretful glance. A glance of “oh my goodness, can we do anything?” Instinctual within both of us was a desire to preserve life.

My husband has a way of tenderly and mindfully regarding life. He NOTICES things in nature. He pauses and regards life. Like this tiny caterpillar.

Brian holding a tiny caterpillar on a nature walk with our children

Over the years of living with and loving Brian, his practice of pausing and noticing and REGARDING life has soaked into my bones. This is a gift he has given us. And he is passing this on to our children.

When our children stop and pick up a worm, bug or ant, they regard it as a sacred moment. They know they are on sacred ground. Their bodies become calm, their breathing slows down, and their eyes…their eyes widen. I FEEL the energy of their hearts widening too. They know they are holding LIFE. Even in its tiniest form, they know to reverence life.

It doesn’t matter to me when my children begin to read, when they know their multiplication tables, how many A+’s they receive, if they hit the ball out of the park or if they get into an ivy league school.

If Brian and I can pass on to our children such a regard for life, and this under girds all they do, I will say that we’ve done an incredible job parenting.

Repost: Mindful Moment: My mom’s every day love…in a grapefruit

{I wrote this a year ago.  I was reminded of it because, lately, I find that I am being called to a deeper sense of “selflessness.”  I see and notice and am grateful for how my mom and my husband both live lives of “serving the other.”  I am being called to be “less about me” – in every thing. More on this as the adventure unfolds}.

Grapefruit.  I could’ve sobbed over my grapefruit the other morning.  Carefully cutting the outside circle of my grapefruit, I stopped.  The memory of my mother so lovingly and thoroughly cutting my grapefruit for me as a girl flooded my mind and heart.  Back then, I probably didn’t say, “thank you.”  Back then, I took it for granted that she put such extraordinary care into something so ordinary.  Back then, I’m embarrassed to admit, I never thought that it was any “big deal.”

Now, as a mom to two little ones, I get it.  The time, attention, care, focus, energy, and “groundedness in what is important” it took for my mom to cut my grapefruit and never even say anything about it – I know all too well now what a big deal that is!  To take the time, to put off showering or brushing teeth or fixing her own breakfast, to put attention into one thing instead of being a multi-tasking queen, to muster up the energy from a night of little sleep from a tending to a sick little one, to find balance in divvying up time with more than one child, to recognize in the moment “THIS. This is what matters” — THAT is extraordinary.

mom and me

And I am humbled.  Grateful.  I want to go back in time and savor every little cut out triangle of grapefruit and hug my mom and kiss her and tell her she rocks and thank her for all the little every day ways she showed me extraordinary love.  Cutting my grapefruit.  Making my lunch (yes, even through high school).  Telling me to “take a mental health day.”  Braiding my hair.  Driving me (and team mates!) to and from soccer practice.  The list goes on.   Flashes of these memories flood my heart.  And I pick up my phone to call her.  She’s asleep.  My heart can’t wait to tell her “thank you.”

Ordinary things done with extraordinary love.

Before having my two little ones, I wanted to do extraordinary things in this world.  I had specific ideas about what that meant.  None of them involved cutting grapefruit.  But the other morning, I thought about how now it’s my turn to embody this legacy of loving with great tenderness and attention in the ordinary.  And I am quietly grateful as I go about my afternoon.  I cut an apple for my two little ones, peeling the skin carefully so my little C. can easily chomp away.

beholding my little one

grandma…still lovingly regarding her honeys

Tips for Parenting with Compassion # 8: Find the Sacred Pause

Find a sacred pause filled with sweetness every day.

There is an opportunity. Every day. To look for, notice, see, be graced by something sweet. The most simple, quiet acts of kindness.

They are there. Present. Every day.

Some days, we are D.O.N.E.! Some days are filled more with whining, complaining, tantrums, and crying. Patience posted about being D.O.N.E. Yep. Been there. There often! But as she so beautifully captured, in words and in images, there is always a grace. A tiny bit of grace. This is honestly the place of new birth, where creativity is born, and beginning again with even more focus and vigor and HEART lies. Check out how riiiiight before Patience launched a beautiful new kindness project, she had this “Grrrrrr day.” And see what bloomed out of that – the Magic Wand Project.

I have to remind myself to pause. To breathe. To soak up some act of kindness, tiny as it may be. And no matter how many tears have been shed that day (mine or my children’s!), I find that when I stop and intentionally PAUSE, the pause becomes SACRED. Not of my doing or creation. But of the Divine – found right in the hands of my greatest teachers, my children.

Find a sacred pause in your day today.

(Coming soon!…a video series about finding a sacred pause in everyday life!).

Blessings of delight,
Lisa