Into Thin Air

Another sweet post from Elizabeth Eilers Sullivan. We are all planting, nurturing something in our lives - enjoy the invitation to recapture yours.  - BTH

Sometimes I worry about not sucking the marrow out of my todays. About how fleeting the young years of my kids truly are even if some days seem long. Sometimes my anxiety creeps up on me that time is moving fast. Way too fast. That when I am at home and busy doing other things that need tending, I am missing the present. The now. And, when my boys call me on it by doubling their efforts to get my attention, when I am there but preoccupied, it is a reminder to me that I have gone too far. The scales are tipped. I am no longer the fulcrum, the grounded center, because I am no longer present. 

The other day I unloaded my younger two boys from the car and watched as they gleefully ran up the walkway, and thought Wow I will miss this. Them. Followed immediately by a second thought that softened that grip on my heart, "But man will I enjoy them still as adults!" Like salve for my soul, I exhaled. 

Parenting is not for the weak of heart. Strength is a necessary ingredient, and not just physical the lifting the carrying, the schlepping, but mental. Mental strength is paramount. How we fill our minds, our perceptions, the words we chose internally and externally shape our days. We have choice and control over what we think. But to have this choice we need to hone an awareness of our own minds and their patterns. This morning I read something about being aware of what we fill our minds with for it lives in our subconscious creating a garden for things to thrive. If our perception, judgement, or thoughts are off, instead of our minds flowering they can easily be filled with weeds. This image captivated me.I might add that it is not just a garden but one with a labyrinth where the more aware we become of our patterning the deeper we can go to the center to increase the healthy thoughts and weed out the unhealthy. 

That is why later this morning when my husband told me that the front tire on my car was low and needed air, I drove to the neighborhood Sinclair Gas Station. As I pulled in I noted the opaque grey of the sky, the clouds covered it like a quilt, a protection keeping me from seeing too far down the horizon line. 

Joe, who owns the station and a distant relative of mine, ambled out. "How are ya?" he proclaimed. 

"I'm good." 

"What's new?"

"Nothing much," I started to reply, then I paused, "It's Kiki's birthday!" I said. 

Kiki was sitting with his broad grin in the back, we were on our way to get his birthday treat he'd bring to school with him. 

"Well, how old are you fella?"

"4!" he chimed in.

Joe was reaching for the air pump and bending to fill the tire and laughed. "Enjoy them, my baby is 50."

"Do you remember when he was four?" I asked. 

"Oh yea, we had loads of fun! I have three boys," he added still laughing. 

He filled my tire with air and smiled. For a moment we coexisted in that thin space of his yesterdays leaking into our todays, his history mingling with my present, a view beyond the cloud coverage. A glimpse into what is planted in his garden, a sacred view into his own mental strength. As my tire was filled up to it's rightful level, I realized how much more even my perspective of the road was now, like I had been driving around lopsided, or not inhaling and exhaling enough air for my own strength. That like the tire I can stand to breathe a little deeper, relax a little more with the awareness of my breath, my thoughts, my words. That this air that creates sounds, words, stories fills my todays. Breath is the one thing that when it comes down to it keeps us in this beautiful physical plane called life. I exhaled at Joe's invitation to enjoy my four year old, knowing that I will still enjoy my four year old when he is 50 and still my child. 

Ride the Grace of Gratitude

Another elegant post by Elizabeth Eilers Sullivan. Her lovely words reminded me of a group email I sent two weeks ago in preparation for our first 'kid-less" vacation in years.  I had a three page attachment of phone numbers, house details, schedules of events, daily routines and extracurriculars. After reading it, my husband remarked that it takes an army to care for our kids. Sometimes it does feel like we live on the front lines, but then I read essays like this and I remember that it isn't a battle; we're the peacekeepers, if only we take the time to see the beauty and power of our brotherhood in arms. - BTH

The snow has a hint of spring to its edges. The rough crust is giving way to streams in the street. The top layer of snow is soft enough for sticky snowballs, the hills pliable enough to become slick sledding highways that my children toboggan down with glee as my husband shovels ice from walk ways. The sun is higher than it has been in the skies lately and stays out longer. Today it felt like spring was nearer than it seemed earlier this week when the cold kept my shoulders braced to my ears and I shuddered at winter's briskness each time I stepped outside to bring my kids from one place to another. As I entered the swim meet today after it began, I watched runners cruise down Summit Avenue and felt that overall gladness to be alive, spirit unified with body, feet kissing earth, breath coursing through veins.

It is this spirit, this joie de vire that has me feeling doubly grateful for the small things of today. For my children who rose and dressed and ate and readied themselves for play and swim and birthday parties. For my husband who so gracefully cooks breakfast, shops for food, and holds down the home front with me. For the families that came to yoga today and took time to meditate and move and breathe. But paramount in my string of noticeable graces and gratitude is the friends I am blessed with who rise to help, rise to love my children up, and embrace them.

Simply put my friend gave one of my kids a ride form a birthday party to the swim meet. Yes a simple act, but I know it caused her to spend her time driving one of mine to and fro when she has plenty of her own. I know it was done with grace and giving and I hope she notices how much I am grateful for it. We are both the youngest of many, and with that comes a flexibility and willingness to pitch in, and at times to pitch in too much. But while this ride seems simple it underlines something crucial to parenting, that we do not do it alone, nor do we do it with just our partners, nor do we do it with just our extended family, or the babysitters we hire, but with our friends we hold. And, if we are lucky enough, blessed, graced with friends that parent in similar ways and hold their kids to similar standards and will shine their love on our own as they do their own, then it is good to take note. To say thank you. To multiple the grace in more ways than one by sharing it back with them, with others. For in doing so, we melt our rough edges, we relax our shoulders and we breathe into the present moment of today and lean toward the hope of tomorrows--that we do not parent alone, nor assist our parents alone as they age, nor walk this earth in all the promise of the springtime streams alone. For this I give the deepest and most heartfelt thanks for swim meet rides, and heartfelt conversation of dreams and doings and movement toward becoming the grandest version of ourselves; knowing this takes a community willing to see the best in one another, their children, and their wisdom figures as they age.

"If the only prayer you ever say in your entire life is thank you, it will be enough." -Meister Eckhart, German theologian, philosopher, and mystic

What's on your litany of thanks?

The Great Divorce: 7 Ways to Compassionately Support a Family

Guest post by Elizabeth Eilers Sullivan. Sometimes the view from the horizon is cloudy, murky at best. This essay deals with how to reflect the best kind of light into the darkness. -BTH

I was at lunch the other week with two girlfriends I deeply admire and love, and our kids. I was feeling blissed out at my good fortune to be with them during the day while our olders were still in school. We were catching up on life between bites of macaroni and cheese, hummus, and wiping spilled water glasses that kept falling like blessings abundant and freely. When the topic turned toward a couple in our community divorcing. A disparaging remark was made about the one, and something inside of me came to a rapid boil. It was a moment where the record screeches on the turntable and things slow way down (this analogy dates me, but I lack another). For me, I froze and then spoke with conviction I did not know I harbored (frankly my strong reaction surprised me):

"First off no one knows what goes on in a marriage and that ‘crazy’ person is married to one of my sibling's childhood friends, so I would appreciate you not calling them crazy no matter the rumors. And, to speak toward the rumors, I want them stopped. It helps no one. I do not want to know their drama. The mere act of divorce is drama and trauma wrapped up in one, especially when there are kids involved. And for the kids, speaking of a kid who comes from divorced parents in this community, I know what was said about my parents when they chose to divorce after five kids and twenty-five years of marriage. It hurt. It hurt me. It hurt them. I watched it hurt them. I watched their couple friends chose sides and fracture a split situation further. I watched my parents turn inward away from us because they not only had to deal with their private pain but the public pain that came with this major event. And, the rumors, the gossip, the false concern helped no one. So I want it all stopped. And, my parents divorce was 'amicable;' an oxymoron at best." 

Broken down what appears to be a rant, but I hope was heard with deep love for myself, for her, for all of us to rise above what can be the a messy and painful horizon goes like this.

Seven steps to help a family going through a divorce:

1. Assume you know nothing of their marriage, even if you think you do, you are not living under their roof.

2. Do not pass judgment. Divorce is sad, tragic and a longitudinal life long event, it shifts the way a child lives out their life with parents and parents live out their lives with their kids at every milestone. 

3. Divorce is not a short cut, especially when kids are involved. It is a different way of handling daily problems big and small with your partner, you either do it under one roof or two.

4. Discernment is not done in a state of desolation. Sometimes even with the pain, divorce is the answer, sometimes it seems like it is the answer and it is not. Only a couple who carefully and faithfully discern whether divorce is their answer will know. It is advisable not to discern in a state of desolation—(St. Ignatius describes desolation where you are excessively anxious and cut off from others, being invited away from love for themselves, God, and others).

5. Do not gossip, swap stories, or spread rumors. They only hurt the couple trying to sort it out and their kids. This hurt prevents reconciliation on any level: remaining married or otherwise. 

6. Do not choose sides. Remain neutral. Remain friends with each spouse, and go out of your way to love up their children and them—a tall order, but worthy of the challenge. 

7. Lastly, keep your mouth shut, your heart open, and pray for guidance. Enough said.

Rise above the horizon. 

Traveling; Carry On

From the sounds of it, there was a lot of melting down happening in my circle of parenting friends. One parenting truth: if you're having a tough time, you're not the only one. This essay arrived last night from one of my favorite and hardest working mother-mentors. I love the idea that parenting wisdom is often hard earned. We are all coffee drinking, carpooling, multitasking Phoenixes rising from the dust of yesterday's lessons. - BTH   

I am totally tapped out tonight and it is only 8:30 p.m. If I am honest I was tapped out when I woke up at 4 am this morning to help a little go to the bathroom. But at 4 am I vowed to myself that I would not wake up tired. I would steal more sleep and when 7 rolled around I would be spry. I am a firm believer in being aware of my thoughts and how they affect my reality. So I tossed away that voice that said, "Wow are you tired," and replaced it with the voice I still have three more hours of sleep if I am lucky and that equates itself to a glorious nap. I am mostly an advocate of listening to what our bodies are telling us and honoring them, but I knew this might not serve me best today so I relished the idea that I was taking a three hour nap, after going to bed extremely late the night before and solo parenting because my sweet is out of town traveling for work.

I am coming off my first time of being away from my kids since I started having them over 8 years ago. I have traveled a ton, but always with them, or one, or one inside of me and another on a hip. I love traveling. I love traveling with my family. If I could I would do so every six weeks or so. I have traveling with them down to a science, one bag, pack only necessities, and plan to do a load of laundry when the need arises. When I travel solo, I bring just a carry on, I love traveling light. I love keeping the weight I bring with me simple. I admit I am the type of parent that loves having my pawprints all over my boys, and this being said, I also resist the temptation of helicopter parenting. (Pre babes I worked at colleges and universities from the east coast to the west and witnessed first hand the damage a hovering parent can do. Not to mention the need for a new position to evolve called Dean of Parents, yep, it's true, it exists, but that is a post for another time.) 

No, I am the type of parent who after an early miscarriage, and then two years of not being able to get pregnant, feel astoundingly grateful for the abundant blessings four boys in less than six years brings to my life. But the week away from all of them, where I immersed myself in learning more about energetic medicine and healing while being with close girlfriends in the mountains we once called home feed my soul in ways I hadn't known it needed. I was able to do this because I have an incredible husband, who is my dearest friend and a loving hands on father. He stayed home. He simplified his work week. He stuck to the schedule and did not add to it, even when I offered to arrange play dates and such for him, guised as an effort to help him. I was also able to do it because I am blessed with amazing girlfriends who reached out to us and offered help if need be, a buoyed safety net beneath us and our family. 

I am also someone who believes fiercely that we need to live to be our best selves and if I want my boys to do this, I need to do so as well. And so becoming the grander versions of ourselves that God calls us to I feel is a lifelong commitment, much like marriage and raising kids. So when dream jobs come along like building wind and solar farms, and I see my husband yearn to do this, I encourage it, even if it means moving for us (not always easy, but amazing), a lot of travel for him, and by default us either without him at times, or going with him (which I love). This week he had an unexpected trip, and I began to have a moment today where I was outside of myself watching how I fill my hours. Since it was an unexpected trip, instead of rethinking my week I persisted onward. I did not let go of the things I could have let go of, because I just wasn't aware enough to do so until it was too late. In short, I did not keep life simple when Peter was away, and have paid the price for it tonight. I was the traveler that bought all the "just in cases" and had to pay for my bag being over the weight limit: I accommodated my parents, I served hot lunch, I ran out to get the needed snow boots--I hadn't anticipated needing until I awoke to snow. None of these individual things is a lot, but together they add up when your solo. I heard my ECFE teacher in my head saying, "Do what is best for the family unit, not the individual." And then thought back to two weeks ago when I was gone and heard how Peter was happy to just be with the boys, and how he turned down any of the extras only doing the necessities: school, meals, naps, and play. Wow, such wisdom. Keeping it simple. He did not add play dates, or undo errands, he did not add volunteer activities, or guests for dinner even if they are extended family. He just pulled in the reigns tight and slowed his pace making being together fun and manageable. 

Sometimes insight has to be hard earned. And, mine while I realized Peter had kept it simple and the beauty in that simplicity when I returned to a happy house of boys. I did not know I had complicated my week until I did not keep it simple and ended up yelling at the kids as bedtime twisted and turned into a multi hour affair. I was that passenger on the plane trying to stuff her grossly over stuffed suitcase into the overhead compartment with beads of sweat on her brow cursing under my breath convinced I could make it all fit. I hate when I yell. I hate losing my temper. It does not happen often, but I grew up with boiling tempers all around me, and I despise the old haggard pattern. I wish to eradicate it. I hate thinking about the trauma it imprints on littles and I hate the exhaustion I feel afterward. I hate the self loathing that happens because I did not rise to overcome my frustration, and just take a time out to regain my focus and calm in the moment. This all being said is I am putting myself to bed early because I need the rest, and the fresh mind and heart in the morning. And, tomorrow I vow to keep life simpler, especially going forth when Peter travels, only doing our schedule and not adding to it. There is beauty in simplicity and I am embracing it, packing only the essentials and carrying on. 

And as my dear mother friend, Brigid, reminded me tonight, "It's a new day tomorrow." And she is in good company As Ralph Waldo Emerson implores: "Finish every day and be done with it. You have done what you could. Some blunders and absurdities no doubt have crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is anew day; begin it well and serenely and with too high a spirit to be cumbered with your old nonsense. This day is all that is good and fair. It is too dear, with its hopes and invitations, to waste a moment on yesterdays."

OR

New Every Morning

Every day is a fresh beginning,

Listen my soul to the glad refrain.

And, spite of old sorrows

And older sinning,

Troubles forecasted

And possible pain,

Take heart with the day and begin again.

-Susan Coolidge

Thank God.