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Grace Among the Blackberries

I was picking blackberries the other day, and I got to thinking. Not native to our area, they are invasive, thorn-ridden pesty brambles that folks love to hate--except when they bear their annual fruit, at which time we all rush out to pick as many as we can to create delectable jams, cobblers, crisps and such.

As I navigated the thorns with bowl in hand, I began to think of the analogies with life.  Which parts do I look over, deeming them not good enough for my attention?  Which parts are not quite ready for my attention?  Which parts am I willing to make careful plans, go through thorns, and even put up with an injury or two to get at?  Which parts take me unaware?  Which parts are past any help?  Which parts stain my hands as I deal with them?  Which parts are sweet?  Sour?  Moldy?  Out of reach?  Hidden?

It's our attitude, I decided, that makes quite a difference in how we see things, be they blackberry bushes or life.  God created this plant, this life, and depending on our perspective (what's in it for me?), we see more prominently the thorns, the fruit, or the potential.

Fast forward to a meeting at church last night, where I was decidedly wearing thorn-colored glasses.  I vocalized my concerns, my complaints, my....issues.  This morning, as I was thinking about it, I was humbled.  I needed to take my own advice.  I was looking only at what was in the way and had forgotten to count my blessings.  I had forgotten that I am more than a body, more than a youth director, more than a congregant.  I am a Spirit, a Child of God, and I had momentarily lost my connection with that fruit and potential, only to be mired up in the thorny patch of "reality."

Reality is over-rated sometimes.  Or maybe I should say, what we define as reality is over-rated sometimes.  I am staring squarely at a choice of focusing on what could be or what is.  Byron Katie has done amazing spiritual work by living her belief of not only not resisting, but loving what is (she has a book by that name, by the way.....).   I can, as in so many situations in life, stay caught up in what I wish were true, what I think would be better or best, what I know could be only if....Or I can take stock of what is in front of me, practice gratitude, and move forward in grace.

This morning, I choose grace.  I've begun phone calls to let people know how I am grateful for them.  I am creating a new reality--one where I know I am Spirit in this body; much like our church is a place where God can hang out and inspire people to do Her work.  And I'm having blackberry cobbler for lunch.

Rough Waters

It's another emotional summer around here.  Last year, we launched our first child; this year, good family friends are launching their first...or last.  Either way, our summer experiences have been punctuated by a tenuousness--will this be the last time we...go to camp together?  all participate in swim team in some way?  have family vacations with all of us?  see these dear boys/young men? 

As I navigate through these waters that are becoming reluctantly familiar to me, I also hear the pain and strain of good friends whose marriages are in trouble.  Some didn't make it past the changes of having children; others collapsed in the midst of rearing children with special needs, drug and alcohol use, arrests, abuse.  But an unusually large number seem to be finding that, once the children are gone, they have grown so far apart that they can no longer see the relationship they once had or hoped for.

I am grateful for my marriage, which has been nearly 23 years of laughter, tears, anger, intimacy, happiness, and incredibly hard work. Simultaneously, I am saddened for those who have not found the help and support we did in order to get through those rough times, and who face an uncertain future--perhaps alone, perhaps relieved, perhaps starting anew.

Exhausted from a week at camp, I attended the graduation party of a dear friend of my son's, with whose parents I am also fortunate enough to be close friends.  We have shared much of our families with each other over the years.  Watching a slide show of this young man's growing up years, I teared up.  So did his dad.  We had a few teary moments with each other reviewing how much we've meant to each other as our children have grown.  Our spouses gracefully exited to remove themselves from the emotional display in the kitchen and converse elsewhere....

I was reminded of a youth group activity from a couple of years ago.  Imagining that Christ's head was at one end of the room and His feet at the other, we placed ourselves one at a time where we thought we were in terms of doing His work here on earth.  Many chose the hands or feet.  Some the head.  I chose the heart, saying, "because I just love everybody so much."  They laughed and agreed that was a good place for me. 

But it takes all of us to do Christ's work.  We need those who keep their heads, and those who love everyone.  Those who will travel with their feet to wherever the work is, and those who will use their hands to do the work.

And now, as I look around at the changes happening in families of dear friends, I know we all need to be the arms of Christ to put around each other and hang on as we maneuver through the rough waters of change.

Grace and Gratitude

Savoring the moment is one of the characteristics associated with life satisfaction, along with gratitude.  There are few things I savor more than a sunny summer morning.

Where I live, these are relatively rare.  This year, though, we've had an abundance of them, and I have found myself beginning to take them for granted.  This morning, though, I took my coffee outside to our gazebo to simply sit and be with the morning.

I love the sound of the birds, busy already with their bird business.  I love the sunlight and shadows on the deck and how the sunlight shimmers off the worn screens on the back of our house.  I love the absence of people noises and the temperature and density of the air.  Up here in the Pacific Northwest, even summer morning air is cool and full of dew, and on occasion, the clean, salty smell of the Puget Sound. God's grace seems to abound.

I love noticing the contrasts between light and shadow, cool air and warm coffee, quiet and chirping.  For some reason, on mornings like this, I find it easy to sit and "do nothing" for quite a while.  But am I really doing nothing?  Or am I taking time to notice, observe, savor the world around me?  Something that I rarely do in the busy-ness of most days.

In my spiritual readings last week, the focus was on gratitude.  I love gratitude!  Gratitude can change my attitude from cranky and annoyed to centered and peaceful in a relatively short period of time.  Cultivating gratitude is worth the time and effort to learn.  A line from the reading struck me:  God is grateful for you.  I had not taken that perspective before.  I have been grateful for all God has given and done--but to think that God is grateful for me?  Really?  But I'm so imperfect. 

The ideas shared went on to claim that God has created us, and we are savor-able and worthy of His/Her gratitude because we exist.  If we have caveats to that grace, then we are not forgiving ourselves or someone else.  Wow.  God's gratitude seems to be as unconditional as Her/His love.

I find myself approaching this concept slowly, catching glimpses of it from time to time, testing to see if it could really be true, peeking around corners to see if it's still there.  I have a feeling that it's much like a sunny summer morning:  full of delight and there for my savoring, if only I will take the time.   

A Little Slice of Heaven

Here's the thing.  I don't go to church much in the summer.  I spend time with my family relaxing, visiting, going to family (church) camp, and boating.  But I'm not often in that lovely sanctuary between mid June and September.

Today, I wake up.  There is laughter downstairs from my son and his friend.  I get up and make coffee, lunches, pack the cooler.  We are going on the boat.  The house is messy--leftover items from a swim meet are strewn on the stairs and in the entryway.  I don't care.

We get ready and are pulling out of our street in record time for us--8:12 a.m.  We drive down the freeway in the early morning quiet, casually discussing Harry Potter past and present.  We have two extra teen boys with us, for a total of four.  When we pull into the top of the boat launch, my husband sighs happily.  Glass on the water.

We put the boat in the water and drop off three teens to wait on the tube while we pull Eric for the first run, which he routinely takes, and then happily pulls everyone else the rest of the day.  I go next, doing a spectacular face plant on some errant waves, then have a fabulous run.  We take each of the boys, cheering as they get up, get in and out of the wake, do jumps and tail grabs, attempt and almost land a 360. 

We say hi to friends who live on the island on the lake.  We retrieve the tube, head to the cove and have lunch.  A pontoon boat full of young women comes by, loudly proclaiming it is one of their birthdays.  They entreat our boys to dance to the music we are playing.  They decline politely and sun bathe on the tube and back of the boat. 

We run our eldest back to the dock so he can go to work, then head back to the cove to retrieve the others and take them tubing on the now wavey lake.  They are laughing, bouncing, falling off.  I go to the front of the boat to sit and enjoy the ride. 

There is really nothing more wonderful I can think of to be doing on a gorgeous Saturday in the summer.  The zen of being in the moment, watching these guys laugh and play, hanging out with my family and friends, reading to them from a book that is interesting--connecting and laughing.  What more could I possibly want?

I don't go to church much in the summer.  Today, I am in heaven.

MOBs

There are strengths I have developed as a mother of sons that are (most likely) decidedly different than ones I may have developed as a mother of daughters.  Alas, I will never know for sure what might have been, but I do know what is. 

I have philosophized about this with other moms (we came up with an an acronym--MOBs for Mothers of Boys).  We agree there is a directness we have cultivated over the years that has at times surprised us and is unlike how we imagined ourselves to be as parents when we began the journey.  This comes from years of experiences like coming home to car bumper parts a strewn across the living room and the entry way looking, once again, as though a sporting goods store has vomited all over it.

I have recently renewed the gift to myself of a house-cleaning service.  Somehow, I hesitate to reveal this knowledge to the general public, even though I know many moms who also avail themselves of this nurturing help.  Come to think of it, most of them are moms of boys.  Of course, our male offspring are capable of cleaning, and they do--mine mostly under duress.  My job is to remind them that these are life skills they need and to continue to require cleaning help from them, even though we have a service that helps out every couple of weeks.  Their job is to THINK about what an appropriate place is for car bumper parts and sporting goods equipment.

All in all, we have wonderful children.  As I watched them wake-boarding and tubing behind our old boat this weekend, with duct-taped seat cushions and faded life jackets, I realized that this family connection time is precious.I love being with them, laughing with them, playing with them.  I doubt I would have learned to wake-board after age 40 if I did not have boys.  I doubt I would laugh at their off-color parody of rap music if I did not have boys.  I  probably would not have the same perspective I have about fireworks (stay legal and stay safe) and stinky socks (not on the counters!) had I not had housefuls of boys visiting, vacationing with us, and growing up around me.

I pay homage to all the moms who have joined me on the journey.  Special thanks goes to the Ski Beach moms at family camp--an annual ritual where the moms have hung out on the beach, solving our deepest and most heart-wrenching parenting issues in the safety and comfort of friends who are further down the road than we are.  Moms who lovingly tell us where to let go and what is important to hang on to.  This group has had such power and miraculous love associated with it that I have had, on occasion, a non-camp mom request I take an issue to the camp moms for advice.  How would the world be different if every mom had access to this loving circle?

One recent summer day, my husband was mildly admonishing me for some misinterpretation of male adolescence.  I reminded him, rather hotly, that he had had it pretty easy as a dad.  With the exception of a short period of preschool interest in Barbies and nail polish, he'd pretty much missed Disney Princesses, glitter, pink everything, and many other gender-related experiences, while I have endured (hand on my forehead) tomahawk throwing contests, cigar smoking on 18th birthdays, bumpers in the living room, and the like.  He acquiesced. Hm mph.

Now, as these sons and their friends graduate from high school in waves, some are contemplating ROTC or other military connections. I grieve and thank God, guiltily, that my sons have not chosen this route (yet....). Still, I have a strength I would not have otherwise had, and realize that the gift I can give them is clear questions about their motives, their futures, their dreams.  And then, I can give them support and a place to come home to.  I can feed them, love them, laugh with them, and celebrate the men they are becoming.  Yes, I'm pretty sure God knew what She was doing when She gave me boys.   

5 Parts of a Job

I'm recently back from a trip to Minneapolis, MN, to participate as staff for a leadership training facilitated by Jean Illsley Clarke.  I am honored to call Jean my mentor, colleague, and very dear friend, not to mention birthday twin.  Being with her for a week in the capacity of staff at one of her trainings was a privilege, and I am still integrating all the learning. 

Fast forward to our house this summer.  With one son home from college (where, apparently, "they do everything for you") and another focused on friends and fun, chore completion has been a challenge. Since last week's  leadership training was about overindulgence, I gained a lot of support and insights into ways I can be clearer about preventing myself from the 3 ways parents (and others) overindulge children and teens.  This information is based on years of research. The three ways parents (usually inadvertently) overindulge are:

1. too much (stuff, activities),
2. over nurture (doing too much for them) and
3. soft structure (not setting enough limits). 

No one I know intends to harm their children or teens by overindulging them, yet the research is pretty clear that providing too much, doing too much, and not setting enough limits can have an unintentional negative impact on adult functioning.  Adults who were overindulged as children can lack needed skills, have a skewed perspective on their importance, and have difficulty with the concept of "enough."

Here's a keeper phrase from the week:  "The intent doesn't match the impact."  We often intend to help, do a favor, lessen pain.  Yet, the impact can be learned incompetence, which no parent I know intends to be a result of their parenting.

Back to chores....here's a tool I found very helpful:  the five parts of a job.  Check it out:

1. What is the job? 
2. What skills are required to complete the job?
3. Do the job.
4. Finish the job.
5. Clean up any stuff/equipment/gear required to do the job.

I don't know about you, but I think this is Genius!!!  How many battles could be prevented if we came to a decision about exactly, in behavioral and descriptive terms what the job is?  Example:  Clean room = toys picked up, clothes put away, desk straightened, floor vacuumed, bed made.

But wait, there's more!  What skills are required?  Well, one needs to be able to pick up toys, put clothes in a hamper, hang up clothing, put clean clothes in a drawer, sort school papers, etc....depending on the age of one's child, of course.

And then, one needs to do the job.  If your child is very young, or any time someone is learning a new skill, training time will most likely be required.  Plan for that.  Do it with them.  Show them what you mean.

But we're not done yet!  One needs to finish the job.  To do this, parent and child need a mutually shared definition of what it means to be done.  Does the floor need to be clear?  Do all toys need to be in bins?  Do books need to be on a shelf?  Does the rug need to be vacuumed?  The bed made?  How well?  Is there a time frame for completion? If this is an area that needs work at your house, see how working with this concept effects results.

Finally, one needs to put the job tools away. Again, a mutually shared definition helps.  Do you have to put the vacuum back in the closet if your brother still needs to vacuum another room?  Do you need to put the dishes on the counter, in the sink, or in the dishwasher?  During training, it can be helpful for adults to go around with the young person to observe, "I see the hose is still in the grass.  Reel it in please."  Or, "I see dishes still on the counter.  When you put them in the dishwasher, you will be done."

I don't guarantee miracles, yet I hope it is a tool for clarity--a way for parents to set up chores for more successful and effective outcomes, and most importantly, a blueprint for teaching children how to do them competently. I don't know about you, but I'm all for competence in children and youth.  And adults.  Let's try this out:

Job:  Self-care
Skills required:  Ability to set boundaries and create time for myself
Do the job:  Take a bubble bath, read a book, take a walk, etc.
Finish the job:  Do not allow interruptions (other than true emergencies involving blood or fire) while participating in self-care.
Put stuff away:  Drain the tub, put marker in book, put walking shoes away.

Ahhhhh.  Well done!

Sunshine on a Cloudy Day

We've been having the most beautiful stretch of weather here in the Northwest.  Uncharacteristically warm and sunny for an uncharacteristically long period of time this time of year.  Often, we have days of sun, followed by much cooler, damper days.  But this is our third week of sunny, warm weather, and I am loving it!

I find myself in such a lovely mood, especially when I awaken to a sunny morning.  My energy is up; I want to get up and not miss any of the sunny day.  I want to sit outside, breathe the warm, soft air;  smell the soft, sweet scents from all things a-bloom--ahhhhh.  I relax just thinking about it.

One day, I found myself considering this on a deeper level.  Have you ever taken off from a cloudy location on an airplane and climbed above cloud level to the flying altitude?  If you have, you know that it's sunny up there above the clouds.  Logical, yes, but also a bit magical.

There's a saying out here in the Seattle area on sunny days when you can see the majestic mountains, especially Mt. Rainier.  People say, "Oh, look! The mountain is out today!"  As if it weren't there the other days.  Sort of like not realizing the sun is up there shining away above the clouds.

That got me to thinking.  I wonder if I remember this when it gets cloudy and rainy again.  That the sun IS there; I just can't see it.  The mountains ARE there, even if they are not visible. 

Taking it to another level, the lovableness of our family members and friends IS there, even when we aren't noticing.  The divinity of each person--the Christ-like qualities--ARE there; it is up to us to notice them and keep them visible on the cloudy days.  And God's love IS there for us, each and every moment of each and every day--we just need to see it, feel it, and accept it.

What would the world be like if we could see all the sunshine, even on cloudy days?  Ahhhhhh.

Saturday

This morning, my son was giving me grief about a consequence I had given. He blew curfew last night--even though I did receive a text this morning that he had sent last night saying he would be late.  We had been firm about extending the curfew and his responsibility to be aware of time and be home "no later than."  Since he was home "later than," he had a choice of a weeding job or an earlier curfew for the rest of the weekend.  He chose weeding, then proceeded to give me attitude about the job I gave him.

I decided to take the (sort of) high road.  I remarked that, since he was such a responsible young man and did not have many opportunities to receive such negative consequences of his behavior as weeding (ahem), that I would give him a few tips.   #1 Ditch the attitude!  #2 The consequence was not imposed/designed with his ultimate comfort in mind.  #3 Ditch the attitude!

Grumpiness on both sides ensued, culminating in my yelling "SUNSCREEN!" to his fair-skinned self as he drove off to the beach. When we part badly, I find myself wondering, "If this were the last time I saw him, what would I want him to remember about what I said?"  "SUNSCREEN!"  does not top my list.

Nevertheless, he went his way, and we went ours--my husband and I realizing we were turning into a family where the adults could, in fact, go to the farmer's market on a Saturday, as well as run other errands without having to work them around kids' activities and other obligations. It was a lovely and productive day we had, stimulating the local economy.

Later, when tempers had cooled, the weeding had been satisfactorily completed, and apologies were offered and accepted, I marveled at the perfection of this day.  Summer-like in weather, not too hot, not too cold.  Filled with enjoyable activities with my spouse--a walk, an outing to the farmer's market, a purchase of an art piece for our office, planting flowers, reading on the deck--who knew one day could hold so many treasures?  And I was grateful for a pact we had made early on in our parenting, that we wanted to be the house where kids could come.  So when my son asked if "people could come hang out tonight," the answer was yes. 

I sit here, looking out on a back yard alive with teenagers playing some version of whiffle ball, while a stack of board games (including Disney Princess monopoly, which I didn't even know existed prior to today) and chips await them when they are ready to come indoors.  I am deeply grateful for 16-year-olds who gather in this manner to have fun, and deeply honored to provide a venue for them.

As the sun sets on this Saturday, I am happy.  I wish you the joy of simple pleasures such as these, and the gratitude with which to appreciate them.

Snakes on a.....beach?

Ok, Chris, this one's for you.....

Yesterday was a quintessential summer day in the Pacific Northwest.  Yes, I know it's not summer yet--but it was upwards of 80 degrees, a rarity even in July in these here parts.  Not only that, the day had started out sunny, which if often an occurrence reserved for a couple of days in early August.

Our family did what many North-westerners do on such a day--headed to the beach.  Of course, since we have a very independent 16-year-old living in our home at the moment, this was accomplished with separate trips.  He headed out with a bunch of buddies to skim board, and we headed down separately to give the puppy his first beach experience.  In fact, we worked hard to not intrude on our son's adventure, casually noticing that he was there from afar, and keeping our distance and our adventures separate.

On the way to the car, my husband casually remarked, "Did you see the guy with the snake?"  I turned around, and indeed, there was a man with a large boa constrictor around his neck standing on the sand.  "Who brings their snake to the beach?"  I asked judgmentally.  It's true; I have judgments about snakes.  They're so....reptilian. Slithery.  Snakey.  Not my kind of pet.  In my frame of reference of the world, taking your snake to the beach isn't cool.  For heaven's sake, it might get loose and eat a cute little puppy named Zeke for a snack!

When we all arrived home and were enjoying barbecued bratwurst on our deck (another favorite summer activity--you have to pack all the summer activities you can into a day like that--you never know when another one might show up....), we asked our son if he saw the snake.  "Yeah!" he said enthusiastically.  "It was a nice snake."  A nice snake?  C'mon, we're not talking fluffy with social skills here.  But he went on: "I petted it, and my friend let it lick her hand with its cool snakey tongue.  It was ready to come over to her.  It was a really nice snake."  Suuuurrre, it was getting ready to go over to her--and give her a "nice" little boa constrictor squeeze of affection!  Nice snake.  Right.

I've been wondering, though, how many things in life are really not as black and white as whether snakes are "nice."  Most experiences we have are colored by our frame of reference, which is made up of past experiences, messages we've learned and absorbed about things, our generation, our gender, our upbringing, our geography, our temperaments....Obviously, my son and I have different frames of references around snakes.  In his, there's room for a snake to be "nice."  In mine, they need to stay off the beach.

Yet (big sigh) God made snakes, too, and it's really quite judgmental of me to assume this wasn't a nice snake.  I mean, really, who would bring a mean snake to the beach?  Now that would be stupid.  So, for logic's sake, it probably was a "nice" snake.  Unlike Snakes on a Plane, the one on the beach yesterday apparently wasn't  out to kill.

This got me to thinking:  what's your "snake"?  Is there a person in your life that you just cannot see as nice?  Someone you don't want to even give a chance?  Maybe they need a chance to be seen another way.  I mean, what if someone met me on my worst day--when I was behaving at my worst? That would be their perception of me.  If they never gave me another chance, they might think that all I was was a....snake.  And not a nice one, either.  So, that's my challenge to myself and to you.  Think of someone who irritates you and see them another way.  Take baby steps, or slithers:  Day #1 Snake.  Day #2  Nice snake. Day  #3 Nice?  Together, we can start singing, "All we are saying, is give snakes a chance...."  John Lennon would be proud.