i just had a moment. a moment of despair. of what the *&^%&#* is going on here?
was it the email i got with the negative feedback on our home for sale by the 20th house viewer?
was it the fact that i was on hold with jetblue because they messed up my flight for my medical missions training course - my online booking somehow booked me for a flight in and out in one day- instead of the week i need to be there. was it that i know it was a computer glitch and i know i wouldn't have done that- but somehow this internet error will cost us another 200$? super.
or was it that zoe had a meltdown at the park because she couldn't find her friend when playing hide-and-go seek, and i had to spend 15 minutes helping her regroup in the car in 90 degree weather- explaining again how important flexibility is in playing- how she needs to try to read the confused look on her friends faces- to not get so angry- to not storm off and shake her voice and her body- to try to calm her inner turmoil so she can engage in the world as she seems to want to.
was it that at the sandwich shop i needed to sit next to her- to remind her to not lick the jam off her gluten free wrap bread- to not use her fingers to lap up the jam on the plate- to just sit and eat her food, while her brothers need no prompting- no reminding.
or was it that after almost two weeks of single parenting, especially her- i'm just running on fumes- and i'm tired of needing to do so much for her- to wash her hair- to put the rubber bands on her braces- to fasten her bathing suit top- to tell her to stop laughing forcefully and flapping her arms during a movie- tired of having to remind her of what to do- the order in which to do it- to keep her on task- to keep her from being distracted- to help her calm down when she gets stuck on a thought. i'm tired of the unpredictability of each moment- and of the exhaustion that comes from wondering if these moments are for forever- what are we to expect out of her future? out of our future?
interesting that her name means 'life' - like hello, get used to it, this is your life. it is what it is.
coming home to old friends and family i'm faced with seeing her differences more glaringly. everyone else's kids - who are her age or younger- are growing and maturing normally- becoming themselves- doing things independently- and i feel like we are stuck, straddling the age range from 3-12 in one child. and it's isolating. it's depressing. it's an awakening- or a great big reality check.
she's different.
she's special.
your life is not normal.
it never will be.
what do you do with that? how do you live in it? how do you create expectations or goals or even hopes and dreams for a child like zoe? what is too much to hope for? what is too little? and doesn't that devalue her? what kind of a parent hopes too little?
i need to continually find that balance between accepting and hoping-but with out waiting for what i'm hoping for to happen. hoping with out needing to ever get there. it's the waiting and the needing that mess me up.
last night i was up late with my dear old friend of 15 years who we are staying with this week. she asked me how i think zoe is doing- what we expect for her- what we think will happen with her. and after a long day, in a long week, sitting on her couch- i just let my guard down and said in full disclosure- i just don't know. i don't know anything. i don't know how i think she's doing because one minute i think she's 'better' and one minute i can't believe she's done something and the inconsistency makes me crazy. i said 'i don't know' because it requires a comparison of some sort- 'better' than what? 'worse' than what? i don't know what my expectations are- i don't know what my hopes are- i don't know what to expect. i know what i'm afraid of- i know what i want for her. but do i hope for that?
and this is where the stillness comes in.
i'm sitting here, on hold with jetblue- hoping not to be one of those crying basket-cases on the phone- but feeling like this might be the moment that i fall to bits. that this might be the moment that i let down my hair and explain to some random telephone strangers all the woes of my life.
...but i have no money to pay the difference! i'm leaving in a month to be a missionary in africa!
....but i have a child with special needs and my husband's been away and i'm worn down thin!
...but i'm really tired and i don't need this right now!
and a feeling of complete comfort washed over me- a feeling of stillness- that collected all my bits and stuck them tightly back together. and i realized that 200$ is just not that big of a deal. that it's ok to be tired. that i am not consumed. i am not in bits. that there is hope- even if i don't know what it looks like or sounds like or how many times i need to wash hair.
that i just have to live it- each inconsistent moment at a time-even stumbling and tripping and falling. that there is no 'answer'. that 'i don't know' is OK.
Showing posts with label special. Show all posts
Showing posts with label special. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
shine on girl
last night we had more fireworks- on a perfect new england evening. it was beautiful.
and it came after a beautiful day.
yesterday we went to my friends house- my friend who has 9 children- 8 of them still living at home. she also has chickens and a great yard with two tree houses and a trampoline, an rv parked in the driveway (like a third playhouse) and a lake - so it's basically like a kids paradise. my boys loved it. zoe loved it. she could engage and retreat- be in the water- be with the animals- be with the kids- be alone. it was a day of natural play- and it made me so happy. i was happy for my boys to feel free and i was happy for zoe to feel normal- to be able to relax- after several days of upheaval and being 'off'. it was good.
after a delicious birthday dinner for my mom-in-law and my sister-in-law, we headed out to a fireworks party at 'poppi's' (my father-in-laws) church. and zoe had one of her zoe shine moments- the kind when i feel warm inside like things will be OK (eventually) like she has what she needs to get where she needs to go in life.
there was an older guy sitting with his crutches alone by where they were handing out ice cream for the kids. he's a retired teacher- a parishioner at the church- with bad arthritis. zoe was introduced to him by her 'popi' who is the minister at the church and they became fast friends. they talked the entire hour we were there- she helped him move his chair to be closer to the fireworks- she shared about moving to uganda- he explained why light travels faster than sound- at least those were the bits i overheard. they were so engaged in their discussion that they were missing the fireworks. i tried to go get zoe - so she could see them and be with us- but it was like she knew something- she knew something was more important. when it was over and i was gathering the kids in the car, he said "that is one special girl you have!"
"yes, she is" i said. she shook his hand and thanked him for talking.
i loaded the boys in their seats and turned around to grab zoe. she was giving him a hug.
she ran back to the car and turned and shouted "mr. jd you're wonderful!"
when we got home- i told her i was sorry she'd missed the fireworks but that she'd done a great job of talking with jd- that i was proud of her.
"it's OK mom, i could tell he needed a friend- i just had a sense. i'm good like that."
yes zoe- you are. if only i could remember your heart. if only i could remember you do have a sense- you do have the ability to reach those that most people walk right by- your kindness reaches out - you are real- you are pure- you have much to teach me.
and it came after a beautiful day.
after a delicious birthday dinner for my mom-in-law and my sister-in-law, we headed out to a fireworks party at 'poppi's' (my father-in-laws) church. and zoe had one of her zoe shine moments- the kind when i feel warm inside like things will be OK (eventually) like she has what she needs to get where she needs to go in life.
there was an older guy sitting with his crutches alone by where they were handing out ice cream for the kids. he's a retired teacher- a parishioner at the church- with bad arthritis. zoe was introduced to him by her 'popi' who is the minister at the church and they became fast friends. they talked the entire hour we were there- she helped him move his chair to be closer to the fireworks- she shared about moving to uganda- he explained why light travels faster than sound- at least those were the bits i overheard. they were so engaged in their discussion that they were missing the fireworks. i tried to go get zoe - so she could see them and be with us- but it was like she knew something- she knew something was more important. when it was over and i was gathering the kids in the car, he said "that is one special girl you have!"
"yes, she is" i said. she shook his hand and thanked him for talking.
i loaded the boys in their seats and turned around to grab zoe. she was giving him a hug.
she ran back to the car and turned and shouted "mr. jd you're wonderful!"
when we got home- i told her i was sorry she'd missed the fireworks but that she'd done a great job of talking with jd- that i was proud of her.
"it's OK mom, i could tell he needed a friend- i just had a sense. i'm good like that."
yes zoe- you are. if only i could remember your heart. if only i could remember you do have a sense- you do have the ability to reach those that most people walk right by- your kindness reaches out - you are real- you are pure- you have much to teach me.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
going through stuff
today i chewed my last piece of ethiopian gum.
well- it was just trident peppermint- but it was from ethiopia- from our hotel gift shop- 40 birr. and it brought me back. i found it going through an armoire that held many old bags- and inside the canvas purse with the red and blue seahorses on it- was the gum, and my ethiopian room key, and my lip balm and the address of the guy on the plane who gave me my first money for our uganda move - making it seem real- way back last october.
today, i had to divide things into three piles- bring it to uganda, give away/sell, save in limited storage with parents. zoe was tasked with being a "dj" and going through our cd's so we could choose what to keep in that department. i was looking at my marc jacobs black leather bag that i use all the time, and this sassy red patent leather hand bag, and a cole hahn one i bought last summer and i'm thinking- am i going to use these in uganda? and if not- should i hold onto them? what will they look like in 5 years? and i'm realizing how much i have and how much i don't need and how much i won't use- really.
so i'm sitting on the floor of the hall, listening to norah jones with zoe, and i find judes asian silk diaper bag. that thing was with me through all of those early doctors appointments, all those MRIs, all those tests, all that waiting. that scent of the bag and a lavender sachet i'd put in it so long ago. and i'm sitting on the floor holding it, the smell bringing me right back, surrounded by my piles, with zoe beside me and i just got teary.
"this is hard zo." i said, "letting go of this stuff."
"i know mommy- do you understand how i feel now? having to get rid of my things?"
"yes."
yesterday, i was home with my boys- zoe out with my mom. it was a nice break, but i missed her. yesterday i went for a run- early enough that it wasn't hot and early enough that i ran out of thanks, not frustration. and yesterday, my boys got to meet their new friend from africa- an american living in uganda, back here for summer break. he will be their neighbor- their commute partner to school each day and jude's classmate. and i had some time with his mom, my friend, abby. i had time to ask about logistics - like whether or not i need rain boots or fleeces or plastic baggies. and i had some time to just sit with someone i'll spend a lot of time sitting with over the next few years. we got to talk about books and mothering and how we spend our time and about our identities and what will be surprisingly hard and what might not be in this move. and it was a complete gift- almost like a dream- when you are visited by a vision of your future that answers your questions- that gives guidance- that brings a piece of comfort- and that is what yesterday was. a respite. a break from the 'todo list', a moment of the meaningful 'stuff'.
the day before i had brought my clothes into a consignment store- and this was kind of funny and kind of humbling. it is a high end consignment store- designer- high end cool- not business attire- funky high end. so it was funny to get so many things rejected.
"sorry, we don't take 'old navy'"
"now... how old is this piece?"
me, "umm, i dunno, ummm (oh yeah i bought that before i had jude) i guess 6 years?"
her, "yeah, we don't take stuff older than 5 years."
"this is missing a button and this purse isn't in the best condition."
what was funny was after all my hemming and hawing about parting with these items, they were now rejected!
meanwhile i had zoe with me. and she was having a hay day with the other woman who'd arrived to sell her jewelry wears. this woman was young and beautiful and had tried on a mermaid-esque gown which she was planning on purchasing and zoe was talking her ear off. i was hearing snippets like,
"so i was born with non-verbal-learning-disorder. it's kind of like aspergers or autism- do you know what those are?" blah blah blah. and then "i have really good hearing." blah blah. "do you want to know how i remember things?" and this woman had her undivided attention.
so i'd finished with my part- left 18 worthy pieces for sale, and was about to leave with my 30 consignment failures, when my phone rings and it was work. i finished my call and returned to zoe who was now decked out in this woman's jewelry - yes the stuff she was selling. two necklaces and a ring- all really nice.
"come on zo- lets put that stuff back and go."
"no!" says the beautiful mermaid lady-"zoe has made my day! she is so interesting- she reminds me of me when i was eleven! i want her to keep those pieces of jewelry."
really? again? what is it with her? she must have some magic spell that she casts on people. but what was so great was that the interaction totally regulated zoe. she went from mildly irritable and agitated to happy and calm and using language like., "oh no worries mom! it's fine! we're friends!"
a story of zoe in her glory again. i've got to remember this- find her interested, patient adult and all will be well! meanwhile i promptly wore one of those beautiful necklaces- looks like we all scored a goal.
so today i put two of my leather bags in the 'needs more time to decide' pile that i'd desperately created, and put the red patent leather bag and jude's old baby bag into the 'goodwill' pile. but i took one small piece of that asian silk fabric from the inside of the bag and i took the lavender sachet- because i don't need the stuff, but i do need the memories.
well- it was just trident peppermint- but it was from ethiopia- from our hotel gift shop- 40 birr. and it brought me back. i found it going through an armoire that held many old bags- and inside the canvas purse with the red and blue seahorses on it- was the gum, and my ethiopian room key, and my lip balm and the address of the guy on the plane who gave me my first money for our uganda move - making it seem real- way back last october.
today, i had to divide things into three piles- bring it to uganda, give away/sell, save in limited storage with parents. zoe was tasked with being a "dj" and going through our cd's so we could choose what to keep in that department. i was looking at my marc jacobs black leather bag that i use all the time, and this sassy red patent leather hand bag, and a cole hahn one i bought last summer and i'm thinking- am i going to use these in uganda? and if not- should i hold onto them? what will they look like in 5 years? and i'm realizing how much i have and how much i don't need and how much i won't use- really.
so i'm sitting on the floor of the hall, listening to norah jones with zoe, and i find judes asian silk diaper bag. that thing was with me through all of those early doctors appointments, all those MRIs, all those tests, all that waiting. that scent of the bag and a lavender sachet i'd put in it so long ago. and i'm sitting on the floor holding it, the smell bringing me right back, surrounded by my piles, with zoe beside me and i just got teary.
"this is hard zo." i said, "letting go of this stuff."
"i know mommy- do you understand how i feel now? having to get rid of my things?"
"yes."
yesterday, i was home with my boys- zoe out with my mom. it was a nice break, but i missed her. yesterday i went for a run- early enough that it wasn't hot and early enough that i ran out of thanks, not frustration. and yesterday, my boys got to meet their new friend from africa- an american living in uganda, back here for summer break. he will be their neighbor- their commute partner to school each day and jude's classmate. and i had some time with his mom, my friend, abby. i had time to ask about logistics - like whether or not i need rain boots or fleeces or plastic baggies. and i had some time to just sit with someone i'll spend a lot of time sitting with over the next few years. we got to talk about books and mothering and how we spend our time and about our identities and what will be surprisingly hard and what might not be in this move. and it was a complete gift- almost like a dream- when you are visited by a vision of your future that answers your questions- that gives guidance- that brings a piece of comfort- and that is what yesterday was. a respite. a break from the 'todo list', a moment of the meaningful 'stuff'.
the day before i had brought my clothes into a consignment store- and this was kind of funny and kind of humbling. it is a high end consignment store- designer- high end cool- not business attire- funky high end. so it was funny to get so many things rejected.
"sorry, we don't take 'old navy'"
"now... how old is this piece?"
me, "umm, i dunno, ummm (oh yeah i bought that before i had jude) i guess 6 years?"
her, "yeah, we don't take stuff older than 5 years."
"this is missing a button and this purse isn't in the best condition."
what was funny was after all my hemming and hawing about parting with these items, they were now rejected!
meanwhile i had zoe with me. and she was having a hay day with the other woman who'd arrived to sell her jewelry wears. this woman was young and beautiful and had tried on a mermaid-esque gown which she was planning on purchasing and zoe was talking her ear off. i was hearing snippets like,
"so i was born with non-verbal-learning-disorder. it's kind of like aspergers or autism- do you know what those are?" blah blah blah. and then "i have really good hearing." blah blah. "do you want to know how i remember things?" and this woman had her undivided attention.
so i'd finished with my part- left 18 worthy pieces for sale, and was about to leave with my 30 consignment failures, when my phone rings and it was work. i finished my call and returned to zoe who was now decked out in this woman's jewelry - yes the stuff she was selling. two necklaces and a ring- all really nice.
"come on zo- lets put that stuff back and go."
"no!" says the beautiful mermaid lady-"zoe has made my day! she is so interesting- she reminds me of me when i was eleven! i want her to keep those pieces of jewelry."
really? again? what is it with her? she must have some magic spell that she casts on people. but what was so great was that the interaction totally regulated zoe. she went from mildly irritable and agitated to happy and calm and using language like., "oh no worries mom! it's fine! we're friends!"
a story of zoe in her glory again. i've got to remember this- find her interested, patient adult and all will be well! meanwhile i promptly wore one of those beautiful necklaces- looks like we all scored a goal.
so today i put two of my leather bags in the 'needs more time to decide' pile that i'd desperately created, and put the red patent leather bag and jude's old baby bag into the 'goodwill' pile. but i took one small piece of that asian silk fabric from the inside of the bag and i took the lavender sachet- because i don't need the stuff, but i do need the memories.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
lessons from the high
today we went to the high museum of art. as hard as it's been for me to let go of copywork and math sheets and reading summaries and our history text- i've decided that we need to embrace the freedom we have in homeschooling- and explore and embrace atlanta before we leave it. this was met by resistance from zoe- before she knew what the change was going to be- because she announced, that she just hates change- no matter what it is. but i actually think she liked today- except for the fact that i was too cheap to pay for parking and we had to walk in the 'cold' for a while.
when we got there- she was being a brat. everything was a problem- the path we'd walked was different- it was too cold- she wanted to see mikes work (even though he's not there)- then she did the wiggly walk when we arrived at the museum. i was super annoyed. can't we just go to the museum and enjoy ourselves? then she admitted that she was feeling kind of nervous, as she clutched her 'powerpuff girl plush toy' (as she calls it). she felt like there were a lot of people around- which was weird because there really weren't. and i had that tremendously conflicted feeling. the feeling of completely not getting it, not understanding how someone could feel anxiety or anticipatory anxiety, in a nearly empty art museum- but also of knowing how bad anxiety feels and hating it for her. but the larger feeling was truly, annoyance.
we were going to see the toulouse-lautrec exhibit. to get there we walked through the modern art collection. this was nice space- big, bright, and empty except for the gallery guards. the paintings are also large and it's quiet and zoe began to calm down. in the toulouse exhibit, there was a tour group - a bunch of high school kids and people talking loudly about the paintings and zoe didn't like it- she wanted to go back to the enormous white walls, and scalloped renzo piano ceiling of the modern art section- and so we did. but zoe wouldn't be zoe with engagement. so she be-friended the haitian guard and the two of them discussed each piece on the floor.
which was his favorite and why?
what about the next piece? who had painted it? where were they from?
how did the get the canvas into the shape of lips?
and on and on.
he loved it. and as we got ready to move to the next floor she thanked him so much, asked him his name, and then thanked him again, by name.
"zoe" he said, " you've made my day!"
again. my girl. je ne sais quoi.
her greatness- in her servanthood- putting others first.
her greatness- in her servanthood- putting others first.
she seems to know what she needs to do to calm down. she also seems to know what other people need. after her stroll through modern art- she was done with her anxiety- she had transitioned and we were off.
as i watched her- i tried to step back and and see her through their eyes. hundreds of kids come in each week and how many of them stop to speak with the guards? how many stop to ask which paintings they love as they stand in that gallery all day? i realized, knowing zoe, that her questions aren't generated out of a desire for knowledge about the paintings themselves. in fact if we were on a guided tour, she'd either tune out, or say it's boring. what she loves is hearing about other peoples lives- she loves connecting with them.
my annoyance melted away and my pride in her grew. we'll get there - i realized-
with some grace and some love- we'll both get there.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
zoe's shine
zoe has had a good week. much better than mine. she's been more mature in many ways- and more insightful- than i have. and i'm impressed. she's managed to remind me, and mike, that we need to be more patient, to remember that some things are really hard for her.
last night mike was supervising her washing her hair. he was understandably annoyed that she wasn't doing an affective job after so many years of teaching her. she gently told him that its actually hard for her to remember the steps, the order of them, and then to get her body to do it.
we take so much for granted. we for whom this comes naturally.
today i had yet another star parenting moment. i was getting irritated with her slow pace with eating breakfast, and getting ready. so i said, "can't you try to act like an eleven year old? it's simple- get dressed, eat your breakfast, brush your teeth, get your shoes on, get your coat on! " zoe's response, "mom- i'm sorry. i'm trying. it's harder for me to keep track of everything because of my nonverbal learning disability!" oh. right. "i'm sorry zoe." i'm an idiot.
but the most impressive thing was how she read her brothers mood last night, and directly addressed it. in fact, she addressed the large stomping elephant in the room- that i couldn't name- the same elephant that has been bothering me all week.
her little brothers are almost 4 and almost 6 and they are wonderful- but they drive her crazy sometimes. last night they were more hyper than usual, especially jude. he was really acting out and bothering everyone. i was not responding well. i was just reacting to him. getting mad. giving time outs and taking away dessert.
then zoe stands between us and says, "mom- you know what's going on here? jude is really stressed about moving to uganda and having to make new friends- that's why he's acting like this- i can sense it. it's OK Jude- i feel that way too." it was so perfect, so insightful, so mature and aware, and what made it even better, and definitely humbling, was that i had missed it. i have been so caught up in getting mad at everyone's grumpiness, everyone's inability to meet my expectations- that i had forgotten to step back and think about what is really going on- for all of us. and zoe- the one with challenges picking up on social cues, the one who has a hard time with understanding facial expression and tone of voice and subtlety, she senses it, she names it.
jude told her that he's not stressed about moving to uganda and that only yoda can sense things like that. now that zoe had set me on the right track- i picked him up and suggested that maybe he was anxious about the fact that the house is going for sale this month and we're starting to pack up our things. yes- he said- he loves our house- he doesn't want to move- and what were we going to do with all our stuff? it opened the door for many question to come out and be answered, for people to not feel alone with the changes that are happening. and it clued me into the root of my own underlying irritation and anxiety. we have a lot going on. no wonder!
i love that it was zoe who sensed it. zoe who called it. zoe who interpreted the mood of the house correctly and zoe who spoke it. it's her gift- the cool part is, her ability to articulate it now.
then the icing on the cake happened at the orthodontist today. zoe was a little anxious because she was getting her bottom braces on. this woman was checking out while we were checking in. then we sat down and she left. a minute later, she comes back in and says, " are you zoe?", "yes", "you probably don't remember me, but a few months ago i was here about to get my braces and i was so nervous and you told me all about it, and reassured me that it wasn't that bad and told me how you handle feeling nervous about it all. you gave me so much comfort and i wanted to come back and thank you."
again, zoe shines.
last night mike was supervising her washing her hair. he was understandably annoyed that she wasn't doing an affective job after so many years of teaching her. she gently told him that its actually hard for her to remember the steps, the order of them, and then to get her body to do it.
we take so much for granted. we for whom this comes naturally.
today i had yet another star parenting moment. i was getting irritated with her slow pace with eating breakfast, and getting ready. so i said, "can't you try to act like an eleven year old? it's simple- get dressed, eat your breakfast, brush your teeth, get your shoes on, get your coat on! " zoe's response, "mom- i'm sorry. i'm trying. it's harder for me to keep track of everything because of my nonverbal learning disability!" oh. right. "i'm sorry zoe." i'm an idiot.
but the most impressive thing was how she read her brothers mood last night, and directly addressed it. in fact, she addressed the large stomping elephant in the room- that i couldn't name- the same elephant that has been bothering me all week.
her little brothers are almost 4 and almost 6 and they are wonderful- but they drive her crazy sometimes. last night they were more hyper than usual, especially jude. he was really acting out and bothering everyone. i was not responding well. i was just reacting to him. getting mad. giving time outs and taking away dessert.
then zoe stands between us and says, "mom- you know what's going on here? jude is really stressed about moving to uganda and having to make new friends- that's why he's acting like this- i can sense it. it's OK Jude- i feel that way too." it was so perfect, so insightful, so mature and aware, and what made it even better, and definitely humbling, was that i had missed it. i have been so caught up in getting mad at everyone's grumpiness, everyone's inability to meet my expectations- that i had forgotten to step back and think about what is really going on- for all of us. and zoe- the one with challenges picking up on social cues, the one who has a hard time with understanding facial expression and tone of voice and subtlety, she senses it, she names it.
jude told her that he's not stressed about moving to uganda and that only yoda can sense things like that. now that zoe had set me on the right track- i picked him up and suggested that maybe he was anxious about the fact that the house is going for sale this month and we're starting to pack up our things. yes- he said- he loves our house- he doesn't want to move- and what were we going to do with all our stuff? it opened the door for many question to come out and be answered, for people to not feel alone with the changes that are happening. and it clued me into the root of my own underlying irritation and anxiety. we have a lot going on. no wonder!
i love that it was zoe who sensed it. zoe who called it. zoe who interpreted the mood of the house correctly and zoe who spoke it. it's her gift- the cool part is, her ability to articulate it now.
then the icing on the cake happened at the orthodontist today. zoe was a little anxious because she was getting her bottom braces on. this woman was checking out while we were checking in. then we sat down and she left. a minute later, she comes back in and says, " are you zoe?", "yes", "you probably don't remember me, but a few months ago i was here about to get my braces and i was so nervous and you told me all about it, and reassured me that it wasn't that bad and told me how you handle feeling nervous about it all. you gave me so much comfort and i wanted to come back and thank you."
again, zoe shines.
Sunday, December 19, 2010
40
40 started out at 3 am on december 18th with jude throwing up. nice. that is a great way to start a birthday. but it reminds you of your life- of where you are, of who you are. the day was pretty bad- cold and rainy and bitter outside, the kids fussing and fighting (as if they should magically not behave as usual on my birthday) and zoe getting sticky about it not being her birthday- about being jealous that it was about me and not her. i was in a deep funk. i couldn't get happy. i wasn't being nice. i just wanted to be alone- but not even that- because i didn't want to be around myself. i ended up in the bath at 3pm listening to the soundtrack from Away We Go on my ipod and crying and feeling sorry for myself- like some bad old-lady version of Sixteen Candles. it was kind of pathetic. but 40 ended well, with some really good and important conversations with mike- and then a fabulous night out with him. it was a day of transitions. a day of accepting things for what they are- years, and children who whine, and stickiness.
when i woke up today- it was good. i like 40.
mikes parents gave me a really cool necklace and earrings. they are silver with a single fresh water pearl. i began thinking about pearls and about diamonds. about what they represent when we stop and think about it. they are valuable- precious- and rare. they are beautiful. and they both arrived by a process of transformation and reaction. they started out as coal and sand. and with time and pressure that coal becomes a diamond. and with time the piece of sand that is an irritant inside a mollusk becomes a pearl after layers and layers are added for protection. beautiful things exist because of pain or struggle or time and process. things we value are not easy. our emotional lives copy nature. we are transformed by our pressures- our challenges- by our irritants. and beauty can result.
i went into a store today (bill hallman- where i got the great dress). mike had given me a gift certificate there for the big 4-0. the guy behind the counter saw my last name and said, " are you zoe's mom?" he then told me this story.
he said, you probably don't remember me but we met about a year ago when the store was in a different location. you came in with zoe. she is amazing. she changed my life. i can't really explain it- but she has this incredible energy. she walked up to me and said ' hi, i'm zoe, what's your name?' and then engaged me in a conversation.
he said, i have this box that i keep really special things in- things from places i've been or quotes or things that people say- things i want to save. things i want to remember. and i went home and wrote down 'zoe' and put it in my box- so i could remember her energy. i can't explain really why it was so meaningful- something that day, that i needed- but she is really special. she has a special purpose.
that was a great gift to me. i know what he means- i've heard it before. someone else sensing her 'je ne sais pas'. she is special. gifted. engaging. but in a nearly impossible way to explain. it was so good to be reminded of that.
we are all coal and sand with potential. we are also the forces of pressure and protection in each others lives. i hope 40 will bring me closer to that sparkle- rather than loosing myself under the pressure. and i hope that i will influence those around me to transform positively- that i will coat my 4 year old whiny sand kernel with layers of love- and cover zoe's stickiness so only her amazing chi shines out.
40 - it's an important number- it shows up a lot.
the Israelites wandered the desert for 40 years.
Jesus was tempted in the desert for 40 days.
lent is 40 days.
there are 40 weeks in a pregnancy.
40 as a number seems to represent the end of a time of waiting- after a season of preparation. that is were i am. i've arrived at a place with a view- a time to pause- and a time to begin again.
when i woke up today- it was good. i like 40.
mikes parents gave me a really cool necklace and earrings. they are silver with a single fresh water pearl. i began thinking about pearls and about diamonds. about what they represent when we stop and think about it. they are valuable- precious- and rare. they are beautiful. and they both arrived by a process of transformation and reaction. they started out as coal and sand. and with time and pressure that coal becomes a diamond. and with time the piece of sand that is an irritant inside a mollusk becomes a pearl after layers and layers are added for protection. beautiful things exist because of pain or struggle or time and process. things we value are not easy. our emotional lives copy nature. we are transformed by our pressures- our challenges- by our irritants. and beauty can result.
i went into a store today (bill hallman- where i got the great dress). mike had given me a gift certificate there for the big 4-0. the guy behind the counter saw my last name and said, " are you zoe's mom?" he then told me this story.
he said, you probably don't remember me but we met about a year ago when the store was in a different location. you came in with zoe. she is amazing. she changed my life. i can't really explain it- but she has this incredible energy. she walked up to me and said ' hi, i'm zoe, what's your name?' and then engaged me in a conversation.
he said, i have this box that i keep really special things in- things from places i've been or quotes or things that people say- things i want to save. things i want to remember. and i went home and wrote down 'zoe' and put it in my box- so i could remember her energy. i can't explain really why it was so meaningful- something that day, that i needed- but she is really special. she has a special purpose.
that was a great gift to me. i know what he means- i've heard it before. someone else sensing her 'je ne sais pas'. she is special. gifted. engaging. but in a nearly impossible way to explain. it was so good to be reminded of that.
we are all coal and sand with potential. we are also the forces of pressure and protection in each others lives. i hope 40 will bring me closer to that sparkle- rather than loosing myself under the pressure. and i hope that i will influence those around me to transform positively- that i will coat my 4 year old whiny sand kernel with layers of love- and cover zoe's stickiness so only her amazing chi shines out.
40 - it's an important number- it shows up a lot.
the Israelites wandered the desert for 40 years.
Jesus was tempted in the desert for 40 days.
lent is 40 days.
there are 40 weeks in a pregnancy.
40 as a number seems to represent the end of a time of waiting- after a season of preparation. that is were i am. i've arrived at a place with a view- a time to pause- and a time to begin again.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
living in on the unlined page
there is a glistening of sweat on the little hairs on my arms, my arm that is turning brown in the sun beside the pool, beside the ocean. and i smell of sweat and tropical fruits like coconut and pineapple and it's reminding me of being in addis ababa. i always burn the pointy parts- elbows and knees- because they stick up or out- and have creases that wash away the sunblock. i'm in florida at a resort, celebrating my dad who has been president of a prestigious surgical society.
i'm reading another really good book. Little Bee by Chris Cleave. it's about two very far away lives becoming linked. two people suffering different sorrows, from different worlds but united by an event that changed them forever. i won't say anymore- you'll have to read it.
but as i've said before, there is so much beauty in far away connections like this. maybe because it's unexpected. you think it would be harder to connect with someone not from your place- but i think it might be easier.
when you are with your own people- your own community- there are expectations of being- there are rules unspoken- ways of talking and patterns we fall into- like writing on lined paper. then when you're at a bus stop talking to a homeless guy, so blatantly aware of the differences, those lines dissolve and you have a blank piece of paper in front of you and if you're one of those people whose not afraid to engage in conversation with someone different- you are now free. so sometimes it's easier and faster to connect, with out the lines.
the other night zoe came into our room and wanted me to take off the little bird necklace. (see post called 'little bird')
"it's kind of scratchy" she said.
"i know" i said as i removed it.
its little sparkly eye catching a street light and winking at me.
"you can have it back for now" she said and she went back to bed.
maybe my connection with zoe feels so intense sometimes because we're living on paper with no lines. no scripts. no definitions of what is the right thing to say or to do. we are drawing it as we go. so it becomes less of an orchestrated piece and more of art- because when you have no lines - you are free to go where you want to on the page- and as fast or as slowly as you feel. your story can move at a different pace.
and we are all story. made up of stories. some we have control over and some we don't- but none the less- stories.
zoe has her own story- it has started and will continue with me and probably eventually with out me. when she returned the little bird in the middle of the night- i was not surprised. the giving of the necklace was probabaly a more important part in my story, than the recieving of it was in hers. i want to not need good luck charms. i want her to fly on- to feel that branch trembling. but on her unlined paper- she might not even need that- she might not ever feel the shaky branch because i guess if the branch has always been shaking- that is your normal- there is no awareness of an unshaky branch. part of zoe's beauty is her songbirdness- she already does sing. part of zoe's beauty is her living out her life on the lineless freedom of plain paper. her ease of connectedness with the other- infact her joy in connection with those who are most different. and in that way she is perhaps freer than the rest of us.
tonight i will go to a fancy dinner dance in my fabulous chocolate dress- and i will try to remember her freedom, i will try to not be fooled by the outsides of everyone. i will try to hear their stories and i will try to live on the unlined page.
i'm reading another really good book. Little Bee by Chris Cleave. it's about two very far away lives becoming linked. two people suffering different sorrows, from different worlds but united by an event that changed them forever. i won't say anymore- you'll have to read it.
but as i've said before, there is so much beauty in far away connections like this. maybe because it's unexpected. you think it would be harder to connect with someone not from your place- but i think it might be easier.
when you are with your own people- your own community- there are expectations of being- there are rules unspoken- ways of talking and patterns we fall into- like writing on lined paper. then when you're at a bus stop talking to a homeless guy, so blatantly aware of the differences, those lines dissolve and you have a blank piece of paper in front of you and if you're one of those people whose not afraid to engage in conversation with someone different- you are now free. so sometimes it's easier and faster to connect, with out the lines.
the other night zoe came into our room and wanted me to take off the little bird necklace. (see post called 'little bird')
"it's kind of scratchy" she said.
"i know" i said as i removed it.
its little sparkly eye catching a street light and winking at me.
"you can have it back for now" she said and she went back to bed.
maybe my connection with zoe feels so intense sometimes because we're living on paper with no lines. no scripts. no definitions of what is the right thing to say or to do. we are drawing it as we go. so it becomes less of an orchestrated piece and more of art- because when you have no lines - you are free to go where you want to on the page- and as fast or as slowly as you feel. your story can move at a different pace.
and we are all story. made up of stories. some we have control over and some we don't- but none the less- stories.
zoe has her own story- it has started and will continue with me and probably eventually with out me. when she returned the little bird in the middle of the night- i was not surprised. the giving of the necklace was probabaly a more important part in my story, than the recieving of it was in hers. i want to not need good luck charms. i want her to fly on- to feel that branch trembling. but on her unlined paper- she might not even need that- she might not ever feel the shaky branch because i guess if the branch has always been shaking- that is your normal- there is no awareness of an unshaky branch. part of zoe's beauty is her songbirdness- she already does sing. part of zoe's beauty is her living out her life on the lineless freedom of plain paper. her ease of connectedness with the other- infact her joy in connection with those who are most different. and in that way she is perhaps freer than the rest of us.
tonight i will go to a fancy dinner dance in my fabulous chocolate dress- and i will try to remember her freedom, i will try to not be fooled by the outsides of everyone. i will try to hear their stories and i will try to live on the unlined page.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
little moments
i just got back from a fabulous weekend away. away at my old home. away in northern california. away with old and new friends. there was great food and wine, time to read, time to be quiet, to hike and for connection and laughter. lots of little moments. i am refreshed. i am reminded of how good it all really is. i am thankful!
on the plane, i watched The Blind Side. it's about a boy from the projects who ends up at a private christian school, and is taken in by a wealthy family, where he thrives and ends up a famous football player. its about good coming out of bad. it's about potential being reached, and about transformation for many. it reminded me of Temple Grandin, a movie about an autistic woman who succeeds in graduating from college and grad school and is now teaching at a university. she was able to use her "skills" and strengths from autism to help her understand animal behavior. when you break down any story or life, it is the little things that happen that are life changing. it's the mechanic who lets Big Mike sleep at his house and then asks the private school to take him- it's the little boy who smiles at him on the playground when no one else will talk to him. these were the seeds that got him where he was- not just the woman who ultimately took him in. temple grandin's science teacher- and college roommate, not just her mother. and this gives me so much hope.
there are so many moments in our lives, in our days when we have a chance to make the right decision, to advocate for a voiceless someone, to pause and be present. and these little moments add up to our lives- these little pieces can collectively change worlds.
like the man on the plane next to me, who prayed for zoe before take off - although all he knew was that she struggled with vague learning issues and that i homeschooled her- he took hands with me and with the poor guy between us - a 20-something guy from the bay area- and lifted her up to God- and asked for healing and specifically for her focus and her fine motor skills. i'd never said a word about focus and fine motor skills, but those are her biggest challenges. it's those little moments. they do matter.
when zoe was about three years old- and lacked appropriate stranger anxiety- we took her to a cafe to hear some music. there was an older woman- who, if anything, should have looked scary to a child. not well put together- very eccentric, and kind of odd. she was not the kind of person that you'd not want to pick up your child. but zoe, who seems to see the beauty in people when others don't, went up to her and spoke with her, sat on the couch with her- fully engaged her. i remember feeling a little uncomfortable, and yet so thankful for her ability to see through all that. the woman was so touched- so thankful- she had tears in her eyes-this little girl had brought back her humanity. this is where zoe is most special- she gets those little moments- who knows if it was life changing for this woman, but it was for me.
on the plane, i watched The Blind Side. it's about a boy from the projects who ends up at a private christian school, and is taken in by a wealthy family, where he thrives and ends up a famous football player. its about good coming out of bad. it's about potential being reached, and about transformation for many. it reminded me of Temple Grandin, a movie about an autistic woman who succeeds in graduating from college and grad school and is now teaching at a university. she was able to use her "skills" and strengths from autism to help her understand animal behavior. when you break down any story or life, it is the little things that happen that are life changing. it's the mechanic who lets Big Mike sleep at his house and then asks the private school to take him- it's the little boy who smiles at him on the playground when no one else will talk to him. these were the seeds that got him where he was- not just the woman who ultimately took him in. temple grandin's science teacher- and college roommate, not just her mother. and this gives me so much hope.
there are so many moments in our lives, in our days when we have a chance to make the right decision, to advocate for a voiceless someone, to pause and be present. and these little moments add up to our lives- these little pieces can collectively change worlds.
like the man on the plane next to me, who prayed for zoe before take off - although all he knew was that she struggled with vague learning issues and that i homeschooled her- he took hands with me and with the poor guy between us - a 20-something guy from the bay area- and lifted her up to God- and asked for healing and specifically for her focus and her fine motor skills. i'd never said a word about focus and fine motor skills, but those are her biggest challenges. it's those little moments. they do matter.
when zoe was about three years old- and lacked appropriate stranger anxiety- we took her to a cafe to hear some music. there was an older woman- who, if anything, should have looked scary to a child. not well put together- very eccentric, and kind of odd. she was not the kind of person that you'd not want to pick up your child. but zoe, who seems to see the beauty in people when others don't, went up to her and spoke with her, sat on the couch with her- fully engaged her. i remember feeling a little uncomfortable, and yet so thankful for her ability to see through all that. the woman was so touched- so thankful- she had tears in her eyes-this little girl had brought back her humanity. this is where zoe is most special- she gets those little moments- who knows if it was life changing for this woman, but it was for me.
