Tag: parenting

grace-less

hugs

It’s been a while!

Life is crazy, sometimes more than others 🙂

I’m not going to over think this, I’m not going to worry or live in fear.
I am going to write!

GRACE

Start

I think it’s the one thing we lack as parents this day in age. The concept of grace is pretty much the least evident in our parenting skills at the grocery store, as the kids cry and we hold that bar immeasurably high thinking they need to attain it. Where is the GRACE? Yes we need to have expectations, realistic ones are usually not the ones we have though, are they?

I spent the first years of my daughter’s life expecting her to be SOMETHING. At the age of two I practically exploded out of my skin after I had repeated myself over five times (really it was ten, but that level of insanity should only be known by a few, right?). What was it that I said?

Listen closely because at the time this made complete sense to me.
“Go grab your shoes and purse and bring them here so that I can put them on you.” After giving her 15 minutes to get ready.

TWO YEARS OLD!!!

We are so proud of ourselves for giving them options (they mostly DO NOT need, can’t handle, and don’t really want – but that’s a different story), but then we EXPECT and DEMAND them to act like mini adults. I gave you a choice (you weren’t ready for), you made a decision (with your limited thought process), and now there’s a natural consequence (which you can’t really comprehend).

NO GRACE

Just consequences and frustration and little to no empathy.

That’s what I see looking back. I see the times I should’ve ( and should STILL) hug and hold – not scold and stand in silent indignation.

There needs to be a solid expectation, yes, but there needs to overwhelming and overly generous amounts of grace that show LOVE – 

no matter what

STOP

confuddled moments

I have always felt just a little bit better after reading a book or writing a thought down. I feel more settled, less stressed, and way more focused.

Then life steps in. Again. The projects and lists and guilt and forgotten dreams. There they all are, as if somehow by sitting too long, I clear the way to see to the back closet of my mind. And I know that I can be busy to avoid them. I’ve read that chapter, analyzed it, talked about it, and still, there it is. Tiny passageways each leading off of the main corridor from my heart.

Like tonight. Watching a movie. It all came back to me in a split second. Staring into his eyes over his sister’s head, laughing with her as we stepped onto the stage at summer camp. Seeing him in the audience, our eyes locked, and I knew in that moment that he loved me. It shines a light in my heart even so many years later. And that feeling.  Oh gosh, that feeling of euphoria, the bright moon, crisp air, and the HOPE – that one day all things would be right, that we would end up together, that our kids would come to this very camp with their dreams and their youth. And it’s funny to me how in some random moment, my heart beats exactly the same as that day so very long ago. It beats to the rhythm of that life that is long gone, the dreams that will never be, and it mourns anew.

The same heart that longs for more and dreams up gigantic propositions and crazy notions of a business all my own, that very same one sits in quiet sadness over the ache of a lost love, a lifetime of youth now long gone, and it beats on alone. 

Now that’s a word I don’t use to describe myself. Alone. Technically I’m not, but when it comes to this endless responsibility of parenting, my heart drops. I have this feeling that even with all of the organizing, designing, and ceaseless speaking – I’m not even sure that I’ll be satisfied whatever the outcome may be.

 

And that’s where I am right now. Moving like a bulldozer towards some illusive self-made goal while mourning and rejoicing over everything else. Confuddled. Saying goodbye to my precious baby girl, agonizing over the decisions I’ve made, wanting more time and yet excited for what’s in store. I always say that the funny thing about me is that I initiate so much change yet really just long for none of it.

And tonight I let the thought cross my mind that there may never come a time when I love again or that I am loved. It’s a truth I acknowledge. And I have to be ok with that. I am ok with that, in fact, because I know that I was once loved. Loved with poetry, songs, letters, and a thousand moments. He may not be mine now, but I am forever indebted to him.

 

So here’s to the memories that I have yet to make and the ones I hold dear to my heart.