Dotting The I's And Crossing The T's

I’m going to admit this right up front. I use punctuation in my texts. I know, I know, texting is a minimalist effort, less is more, words stripped to just a single letter, the fewer vowels the better. But I can’t do it. I’ve tried, but just can’t resist the urge. It’s like I crave that comma. My mind just can’t let my body hit send without that final period. It’s like a song ending on the note just before the final note. It leaves me feeling unsettled.
Since I have kids with phones, and a husband to travels frequently, I really do try to stay ahead of the curve and keep up with the latest technology. I actually love texting and the instant connection it offers at times when, in the “olden days”, we would just have been lost, or lonely, or bored or separated from life back home. It is worth gold to me to get a surprise midnight text from a sleepover that says, “luv u” or “gnite”.
I suspect that part of my affinity for marking up my texts may stem from my English Major college days, but it goes beyond that. It’s primal. I think those little insignificant twists, turns, lines and dashes along the pathways of our writing are such a metaphor for the same things along the pathways of life. A stretch? Maybe, but I really think it’s part of my addiction.
Here’s why. I firmly believe in finding small reminders in our hectic everyday lives to remember that the little things really are the big things in the end.
One of my favorite little things is to jump for joy. I force everyone in my family to do it now and then. And I mean we really do jump around the living room, fling our arms in the air and have a good hoot once in a while to celebrate. Now, sometimes my celebration is far more enthusiastic than others in my house, but I don’t care, because I know they need this! “C’mon, jump!” I urge them. “Who cares how we look--It feels so good!”
I just firmly believe some things shouldn’t slip past without the wild celebration they deserve, life’s too short. We have too many reasons not to jump around. I say, when you get one, grab a hold and jump. We need exclamation points in our lives! That’s why I really can’t hit send on an “I luv u!” text without the proper ending.
Like every family we are challenged to get everything done. We struggle to keep every plate spinning, and sometimes we crash. But life on high speed burns you out unless you can find a place to pause along the way.
Last week I was running behind, as I do many mornings, when I realized with a quick glance out the window, that I was missing something stunning. An amazing show that would last just a few minutes as the sun was coming up just perfectly. It was like a magic show, to see the morning frost reflect off of otherwise invisible spider webs. I actually pulled to the side of the road, to soak it in just for a minute, to marvel at the miraculous engineering work of those tiny dreaded spiders and the
diamond crystals shining so beautifully in a quiet, secret roadside garden. I felt so lucky that I had a chance to notice the comma in my life, to pause, if just for a few seconds or risk missing one of life’s ordinary miracles.
And of course sometimes we just need to stop. Period. This year the Christmas ads started before Halloween. And Thanksgiving really didn’t get much attention. We decided early in November we needed to find a way to make the season feel the way we want it to feel. We realized we needed to stop the noise around us. We needed to focus on a lot more than what to buy. We needed to not
just slow down, because sometimes that’s not enough. We needed ways to stop.
Everything. Period. That is a gift.
So, that’s why I am ruined when it comes to texting, at least the short and
sweet way. My life, it seems, is just incomplete without a nod to those little signs
marking our way.

Good Enough

It’s a character-building day for my youngest son. It’s not something that’s 

easy to watch as a parent, and my heart breaks just a little for him. But my brain 

knows that my tougher-than-nails boy will be even stronger for this later.

It’s really not a bad thing. We’re attending a tryout for a sports team in 

another city. We are far outside his normal comfort zone. And, we are not here 

because he asked to come. We are here because we let him know it wasn’t a choice 

to attend. It’s not because we are dead set on him making some team, although that 

may be a choice he gets to make down the road. It’s about much more than that.

Here’s the problem. Our son is a social, outgoing, friend-centered middle 

schooler. No kid in middle school wants to do anything different than the rest of the 

gang, to strike out on your own can be social suicide. So of course his first question 

about this try out is, “Will any of my friends be there?”

Our answer, “We don’t know. This isn’t about your friends, it’s about you.” 

He is a talented athlete and student, who relies on natural ability for a majority of 

what he does in life. But as talented as we know he is, he just doesn’t see it. He 

sorely lacks self-confidence. And while he has had a few experiences to test his 

mettle, there haven’t been many like this.

So, here we stand in a lobby full of people milling about. I can feel the 

nervous energy sparking throughout the room. I see my boy standing silently 

beside me, scanning the room. There are no familiar faces to cut the tension. He 

is completely on his own. Not a friend in sight. I know he’s feeling a lot of things 

but among them is not happiness. He’s far outside his safe zone and mad at me for 

placing him here.

I start to feel my resolve slipping, and for just a minute I give in to that look I 

see in his eyes. 

But, we’re forging ahead, because here’s the deal. In life, there are many 

uncertainties. You will face many challenges for which you need to be armed with 

knowledge. You need the knowledge you gain from attending math and science 

classes and reading about history. But you also need self-knowledge. Who are you 

as a person? How do you respond to personal challenges? What’s inside you that 

you can reach in deep for at times of doubt?

Self-discovery of this nature isn’t easy to come by. And the best way I know 

to learn is to have as many experiences as you possibly can, to navigate as many 

situations as you can when you have no one else to rely on but yourself. Then, when 

you come out on the other side you may find that along with relief that it’s over, you 

feel something else too. You may find that you’ve discovered something about 

yourself that you didn’t know before. Something you can draw on, and build on, in 

the future.

Am I naïve to think a sports tryout can do all that? I don’t think so. I 

recognize now, as an adult, that so many challenges I’ve faced in my life could have 

been handled much differently if I had faced my own fear a time or two in a safe and 

controlled way, with a challenge like this.

When he finally walks out, sweaty, happy to be done, and ready to go home 

and I ask, “How’d it go?”

I already know the answer. Because regardless of whether he lands on a 

team or not, I know he’s already won.

I say to my son, “You don’t know this now, but you are going to be in many, 

many situations in life where you’re going to have that feeling you had today again, 

and going through this now may come in handy later.” 

The fact is we all need this. To be self-confident, self-assured, and able to 

represent yourself in uncomfortable situations takes practice. It doesn’t happen by 

accident alone. There will be moments when mental fortitude will pay off and the 

strongest guy will have the edge.

This is training for that, something we can’t manufacture at home, or in a 

practice, or at school. This is the most valuable training money can buy when it 

comes to living through a situation you just aren’t sure you can survive, and then 

you do. That is personal growth you can’t measure on any chart. It’s much more than 

making a team or not making a team.

This is building a foundation. This is building from the inside out, the bottom 

up. This is preparing at it’s most basic, because if you don’t know who you are 

than no one will. So, my little pal, today is just for you, as painful as it may feel. All 

those other people around me don’t matter. All I see is you. And I know we’ve laid 

another brick in a pretty solid foundation!

Bustin' Onto The Scene

          We are celebrating small victories. It’s the most basic things in our lives that have come into full focus the last three weeks since we have brought home the new baby. I forgot how the entire universe shifts a bit for that tiny little being. No, this time it’s not a human baby.   

              This time it’s of the four legged variety. He came in a 12 pound, tail wagging, floppy eared, explosion of fluff, blond, clumsy body. He captured our hearts from the moment we laid eyes on him, but life as we knew it before that moment came to a screeching halt.

       He is Buster. When he rolled out of his kennel the first day we met him he had the roundest balloon belly we could imagine, a playful excited greeting, and a snuggly disposition that we thought was just about the perfect combination for a family pet. So our decision really wasn’t a decision at all. We all agreed in that first instant we laid eyes on him, that he would be the perfect fit to fill the gaping hole in our family left from the passing of our dog Bucky last spring.

           But I must say I completely forgot what it was like to baby proof the house. That sure didn’t take long to come rushing back though. I instantly remembered when the kids were first learning to move around the house, little accidents waiting to happen, every thing in their path, first deposited directly into their mouthes with lightening speed. I remember then too, like now, how inventive we all became in order to get anything done around here. All the small little daily tasks seemed monumental. Suddenly, just brushing your teeth, or taking a shower, or changing out of your bath robe was a tiny little victory. I remember thinking I would never again be able to accomplish a wardrobe change, complete with hair and make up all in one day. I also remember thinking surely I was the only one unable to function normally with this small new little person sucking away my attention.

               But of course you learn to adapt. And we are once again doing just that with this new baby in the house. It seems many of those old coping skills are coming back to me in a pretty handy way. Just as I did with my boys when they were babies, I am forced to be inventive, see the world around me through new eyes. I’ve re-discovered how many incidental items around the house become make-shift entertainment gems when you really need to get the dishes done, or dinner made or laundry folded. I remember how the cabinet with all the pots and pans was gold when I needed just 15 or 20 minutes to myself, wooden spoons as mallets, pie tins as cymbals, pots as drums and joyful music as entertainment to sing our way through chores. 

                 Today, I discovered an old Disney coffee mug and a plastic water bottle waiting for recycling, as the perfect toys for a puppy to chase about the kitchen for just enough time to accomplish cleaning up breakfast and loading the dishwasher. Mission accomplished.
Of course the babies wore diapers, and this one doesn’t, which presents it’s own set of challenges. 

                     But in spite of the demands that now stretch the family to new limits, that send us racing about the house after this crazy bundle of energy, that test our patience, nerves, and will on a daily basis, the rewards, we all know, will be worth it in the end. They already are.
       
                 Just as I remember gazing at our peaceful sleeping bundles of joy all those years ago as babies, it’s pretty similar now, when Buster finally does surrender to the inevitable nap, huge paws limp, ears flipped and belly exposed. That familiar feeling of love mixed with exhausted pride and accomplishment come rushing back. The little daily victories, lost without a baby in the house to remind you how much you can do as a multi-tasker. Yep, he’s a keeper. But it’s nap time. Either I should be napping too, or I need to stop admiring his cuteness, and work at warp speed to get everything checked off the list today that needs to be checked.

Sounds of Silence

There is music on the walk with my dog today.  Finally, after this eternally long winter, the birds are singing.  What an amazing sound it is.  It feels busy and alive. I actually have a physical reaction -- a direct shot of endorphins to my body. Our puppy stops to listen too.  It sounds different, fresh and new and joyful.  All the things winter was not. It gives me hope.  It fills me with the reassurance that nature hasn’t let me down, and spring renewal is coming.  That’s something worth breathing in for more than a second.

For the quiet months of winter, the dog and I had mostly silent walks.  The woodpeckers were even quiet.  We have had so much snow, that mostly we listened to the sound of my boots crunching along, every step a battle against a bitter harsh world.    

There was one thing that broke the monotony of it. Some nights under clear skies and a bright moon, we got a treat. We have a couple of owls in the neighborhood.  I’m sure they watched from their silent perch, every time we braved the cold for an evening walk.  But on occasion they spoke, deep and low and slow.  Back and forth they called, Whooooo. Whoooo. 

If your not paying attention you’ll miss it altogether.  It’s very subtle, much too quiet to echo.  But it does, inside me.  Each time I hear them I feel unbelievably lucky to be present in that moment.  But there is something else.  Something about their tone, and the notes they sing .  It’s truly like they are speaking directly to me.  Only I can’t understand.  I long to know what they’re feeling.  Are they happy or sad, are they lonely or content?  It calms and haunts at the same time somehow.

Maybe it touches my heart so deeply because of the similarity to something else in my world today.  Our life blessed with a sometimes moody but mostly sweet, thoughtful, and by all accounts typical teenager is a little like living with a soulful hoot owl; emerging from time to time to speak, but most times, staring silently at the world around him.  As hard as I try to understand, much of what happens in his quiet world lies just beyond my reach.  Our conversations usually touch on the surface things, “How was your day?”

“How was your test?”

“What was for lunch?”

We don’t get much deeper than that, even though I know there’s a lot more going on in that head.  It’s nothing different than what any other parent of a teenager goes through I suppose, but that doesn’t make it any easier to encounter those big round eyes I’ve been gazing into since he was an infant, looking back at me with a curious unfamiliar stare that covers up so much.  And I wonder, are you happy or sad, content or lonely?  You can ask, but what you get back will be pretty similar to what I’m hearing from somewhere high and lost in the trees of my neighborhood.  You have to pay attention, or miss your chances at understanding any of it.

It leaves me with no choice but to trust in nature, and trust in the groundwork we’ve laid in all our years of parenting to date.  Trust the village we’ve surrounded him with, the positive influences he has available to reach out to if he needs to.  It leaves me calm and haunted at the same time, somehow trusting that he will find his way, but realizing that watching from my distance is so much harder than it was to walk it myself as a teenager.  Trust that all this snow will eventually melt and the birds will sing and spring will once again let us know that we’ve made it through a long journey safe and sound on the other side.