Category: Stuff in my head

Posted on

The mother within us

MotheringToday is Mother’s Day and I’m thankful to have both of my children with me. Whenever my boys visit, they shower me with love and endless mocking. Yes, you read that right, mocking. We were alone during their adolescent years and developed a way of interacting all our own. A little poking here and there, but all in love, all in fun. That’s continued as they got older, and I actually enjoy watching them collaborate and laugh about the typically mom things I do.

I’ve noticed, as they’ve gotten older, gone from being children to grown adults, that the relationship changes. Awkwardly. Any mom’s out there feeling that? They’re biologically wired to start pushing away from their mom in the later teen’s, and by then we might be ready to be done anyways, at least some of the time. They want to be an adult, they’re not ready to be an adult. It’s a push pull that can be hard to navigate. But we do. Because we’re mom’s.

Parenting an adult child can be challenging because, as mom’s, I believe we’re always slightly tethered to them. The feeling fluctuates, but, let’s be real, we grew them in our bodies. There’s a bond there like no other. But as adults, we have to let them live their own lives. There are lessons we can’t learn for them, that they have to experience on their own. It’s from those pains, the successes, that they grow, and become resilient, responsible individuals. Separate and apart from us. It’s their path.

It’s the same thing our own mothers went through, God bless them. I don’t know about any of you, but me, in the teenage years… I would have wanted to be done with me. Cranky, hormonal, snippy, not kind to my mother for several years. But she stuck in there. When I became a mother, I gained a new appreciation for my own. I also had a bonus mom, my stepmother, who was like a mother to me in an infinite number of ways. For both her and my own mother, I am beyond grateful. They put up with me, know me so well they call me on my crap, and love me, unconditionally. That’s what mom’s do.

At the same time, I am mindful today that not everyone has that experience. Mother’s are people, and they have their own “junk,” (yes, me too), that can interfere with healthy parenting. In this phase of life, midlife, each of us has a choice, to hold on to that baggage from childhood, or to forgive. Let go of the ongoing impact. I believe that people, mothers included, do not show up each day wanting to suck. They want to do their best. But sometimes they don’t know how, or they’re managing pressures we have no clue about, that we can’t even imagine. Forgive.

My heart also breaks today for those who have lost their mother. The natural progress of life leads us to that point as we age, but others lose their mothers far too early. In cruel and unexpected twists, mothers are taken, forever impacting the lives of their children. I think of Rachel Held Evans who lost her life last week after what started as a simple infection. She leaves two small children and her husband. Forever impacted. Because of her presence in the progressive Christian “space” (for lack of a better name), people are coming alongside her family, supporting them, loving them. But the impact will be long lasting. Our job, those of us who are fortunate to continue on, is to come alongside families like hers, and those who no longer have their mother. Because we have abundant love to share.

I’m reminded of the idea “it takes a village.” We celebrate our own mothers today or because we’re mothers, but it took a village to get us here. And it will continue to take a village. Women supporting other women, because that’s what we do. The circumstances may be different, but we come alongside, and we support. In a way, Mother’s Day is for all of us. I’m thankful for my village, for each of you, and wish you a happy mother’s day.

 

Posted on

Preparing for Christmas

Christmas PrepOver Thanksgiving, I was visiting family in Florida and over the weekend, we started the process of decorating the house. More like, it was our job to bring the decorations and tree up from downstairs in preparation for my stepmother’s decorating extravaganza. By the time she’s done, the house will be photo shoot ready – Christmas coming out of every nook and cranny in an explosion of holiday cheer. H Her decorations are elaborate and worthy of many Pinterest holiday inspiration posts.

And then there’s my house. For the past few years, if I get a tree up at all, it’s a miracle. I want to, but then I don’t, and I procrastinate. But this year, I am patting myself on the back that my Christmas tree is up and decorated earlier than ever. The house is getting close to done, yet…not Christmas home tour worthy, the tree is up, lights are on the outside of the house (thanks to my hubby), and there’s only a small explosion of decorations lying in my living room. I already have Christmas cards in the mail and most of my shopping done. I’m honestly not quite sure how I made so much progress so early. I must be missing something…

We often get so caught up in decorating, and parties, and the cookies, oh…the cookies, that we lose sight that Christmas is a time to come together as families. One of the challenges that comes with adulting is splitting up time so that you can spend the maximum time with the maximum number of people. This is not a new challenge for me. My parents split up when I was young and hence I began the balancing act at holidays.

All in all, we balanced the holidays well, but it always involved a back and forth. Now that I’m a grown adult, with full grown adult children, the balance becomes like a Jenga game. I will say that their father and I have navigated sharing the kids on the holidays well, but what would they say? One of my boys is not a fan of the juggle. I get it. In an ideal world, it would be easier if everyone were in one spot, at least one city. But even when they are, there’s still a mad dash. Breakfast here, dinner there…if we’re not careful we start to lose the point.

Which is connection. Maybe a different way to look at where you spend your holiday time is, who do you want to connect with? Do you want Christmas to be a logistical nightmare, or do you want to connect to your people. For some of us, that’ll be family, for others, it’ll be close friends. Whoever it is, the connection is what matters. Not having a perfectly decorated house or making an amazing meal – although food is always a plus – it’s about the time spent together.

Who will you connect with this Christmas? How can you make a choice to dial down the crazy in exchange for peace and heart connections? Will you create your own traditions that create peaceful celebrations and a time to reflect on why we celebrate Christmas in the first place, Jesus. Because if you could ask Him, I’m certain He would want us to have connection and love for each other this Christmas. If we focus on that, the rest of the details will fall into place.

 

 

 

Posted on

On Becoming Resilient

IMG_6517There’s a famous scene in the movie “Moonstruck,” with Cher and Nicholas Cage where Cage’s character, Ronny, tells Loretta (Cher) that he loves her. She responds with a couple slaps across the face and says, “snap out of it!” Cher won an Oscar for that role and the scene became iconic.

Wouldn’t it be great if, in the midst of struggle, we actually could simply “snap out of it?” But too often, life doesn’t work that way. I’ve been thinking about this quite a bit and it seems to me that one component of this equation is the degree to which we are resilient. We may want to say we’re resilient but is that what we’re practicing? While I’d like to think that resilience comes naturally, I don’t know that it does for all of us.

Start with the idea that we’re all wired differently. We have our normal way of being, a set point, to start with. If you think about it on a scale of 1-10, with 1 being low and 10 being the Everything is AWESOME song from the Lego movie, each of us has a point which is “normal” for us. I might be a 6, you might be a 9, the guy sitting next to you might be a 3. No right, no wrong, normal for each of us. That point is the way you look at life, your approach. It’s the half full half empty idea.

At some point in our lives, we will face disappointment, or setback, and it’s in those moments that our resilience is tested. In context of our “set point,” we think about how far you’re knocked off course when difficulties in life arise. Do you go from an 8 to a 1 or from an 8 to a 5? Again, no right or wrong, just our natural wiring. The more we’re knocked off course, the greater effort it is to “snap out of it,” and get back to your status quo.

Resilience is something we can build, it’s a skill. It’s the ability to tackle adversity and have the strength to move through problems instead of parking on them. You can change the length of time it takes to rebound after a challenge, return to your set point. But when you’re in the middle of the tornado is not the time to focus on improving your resiliency. The time is when you’re not feeling like Dorothy, lost in Oz.

I consider myself a resilient person. I had challenges as a child and learned to adapt, maybe partially as a survival skill, but adapted nonetheless. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve noticed that when I’m under stress in general, I am less resilient. When I’m balancing 5 plates on each arm, back to my days waiting tables, all it takes is a small blip to throw me off course. But that’s not always the case. When life is humming along, challenges slide off like water on a duck.

In order to increase resilience, we need practice, and I’d hazard a guess that life is constantly giving us situations to practice. The time to try on resilience is not in the middle of a tornado, it’s in the everyday situations that come up in life. The small hurdles. Start by overcoming the small things…changed plans…a difficult conversation…a disappointment…before tackling the big stuff. Reframe. If you believe a situation is apocalyptic – you’ll approach it like that and your mental game might start swimming. It’s only a change, just a conversation, it’s not cataclysmic. You can mediate, practice mindfulness, be compassionate with yourself.

When we practice resilience, you won’t necessarily “snap out of it,” but you can minimize the degree to which you’re thrown off course. Increase the speed at which you’re back on track. Swirling in a negative perception of your life doesn’t move you towards the life that’s available for you to live, if you choose it. Honestly, I have to make these choices every day, and it’s not always easy. But worth it. Being brave is always worth it because let our authentic self shine in those moments. Be brave friends, be kind to yourself, and keep going.

 

 

Posted on

I have questions

church in portlandDear God, It’s me, Lisa.

I have a lot of questions, and I often wish that I could ask God the questions that linger in my mind. Those matters of the heart I don’t understand, social injustice issues, why my heart hurts so much at times it’s palpable. Why people are mean to each other, at a fundamental level, which really boils down to why are we so inclined to be up in each other’s business. Why it can be so difficult for us to appreciate people as they are and love them. I’d also want to know how my family is doing. Those who are hanging out in Heaven. Is my Nana dancing to Frank Sinatra? I hope the answer would be yes. And could I also ask what the deal is with Brazil nuts? What was the point with creating those?

There are ways I can look for answers to my many questions. I have prayer. Sometimes I feel I get answers but others I don’t. So, I live in a space of trusting, believing. That’s what faith is about for me. Trusting in what I cannot see. I also have the Bible, which I regularly read and seek to understand, but I’m not one to push the Bible in your face or ask “do you know where you’re going when you die?” Honestly? I know that’s one that some Christians love to lead with. For me? Straight up turn off.

And since I’m putting it out there, I wrestle at times to understand what I’m supposed to do in life, like anyone does. I know I don’t have to figure it all out, that I can rely on God for that. But I still try sometimes. That feels normal. Any one of us wrestles, whether it be about why life can be hard lying awake at 3 a.m. or how to understand areas of the Bible that just don’t make sense to me, in today’s times. I am a woman, I’ve cut my hair, I’m still fairly certain that doesn’t condemn me in the end. And I like bacon. I eat it on occasion and have no plans to quit.

I was thinking about all of these matters the other day and was reminded of some of the ridiculous schemes I carried out in my younger years. Plans in my early 20’s I thought were brilliant that more accurately looked like a train about to run off the tracks. But I also look at the context. What was happening at the time. My age, my life experiences to date, what was going on around me, the social context, what was happening in the world – the challenges we faced. All that impacted what was important to me. Those factors impact anyone, at any time, including today. Looking back with the lens I have today is like comparing apples to a watermelon.

That’s where some of my questions come in. If the context and what was going on 30 years ago is so vastly different than now, what would it have been like thousands of years ago when the Bible was written? Different. Looking at it with the lens of today isn’t just apples to a watermelon, it’s apples to, say, a boulder. And that’s where I have questions. Those things are worthy of having conversations around. What is not helpful is to sit around judging each other. That’s not my job, and really, who am I to judge? All that does is create walls and I’d rather look for ways to break those down. The authentic pieces of me are continually being shaped and formed and asking questions to understand is part of that. To bring out and completely understand what I believe, because at the end of the day, my faith is my own. No one else’s. I am responsible for it.

At the end of the day, I have found answers and at the same time, I still have questions. But I know this. Jesus said to love him and love one another. Period. Not if they abstained from bacon or were perfect (none of us have that claim to fame), but simply love each other.

I can do that. No questions asked.

 

 

 

 

 

Posted on

Embracing the mess of emotions

Embrace EmotionsI cry, often. I know ‘they’ say don’t cry at work, but I’ve been known to. I can remember as a little girl I would cry every time I had to leave my Dad’s house. We knew it was coming. It was predictable. It’s predictable to me now, I know if I’m in an emotional situation, where I feel deeply about something or someone, tears are likely. But don’t be surprised if they come when I’m angry.

I’m not a huge fan of the tears, I’ll be honest. I can pull together my composure quickly these days. Tears are not a tactic, they are the swelling up of a deep emotion inside me. I feel like I should apologize, but I’m not going to.

So often, displays of emotion are pushed aside, either by the person having them or those we’re around. And I get it, displays of emotion make other people uncomfortable. I’ve learned that if a person becomes emotional around me, that the worst thing I can do is minimize whatever it is they might be feeling. Telling someone “don’t cry,” or “there’s no reason to cry about it,” is simply unhelpful. Emotions are a way of reaching out, not a time to shut someone down. Instead, coming alongside someone is more impactful. Tell me more… When you stay in the moment instead of trying to rush past it, there are nuggets.

When emotions happen within me, instead of pushing them aside, I’m getting curious. When the tears fall for me, I ask myself “what’s coming up?” I’ll admit that name the emotion game is not one I’d excel at, but I’m practicing. Frustrated is a catch all for angry, upset, frazzled…hurt. Happy might mean feeling appreciated, grateful, hopeful. Being able to name emotions allows you identify what you’re feeling and understand it. You can roll it around and be interested in why it’s coming up for you.

That’s not always easy. It’s human nature to rush past emotions. They make us uncomfortable. We feel vulnerable and exposed as we sit with emotion. But when we shove them down, like a sleeping bag into one of those stuff sacks that never seem quite big enough, they tend to spill back out. Mine do, all the time.

I hypothesize that years of putting my emotions aside have led to the landslide I frequently experience now. It’s the “be a soldier,” “buck up and move on,” idea that I had. Either I was told or believed it was what I was supposed to do. What I notice is that the more I step into my authentic self, the more I experience emotion. Honestly sometimes it feels like I’m split wide open and raw with emotion. Years of bottling them up spilling out.

And that’s ok. Having emotion, understand my emotions, it doesn’t make me weak. It makes me stronger. Because when we’re authentic, being vulnerable and letting our true self show up with others, there is strength. It’s hard to feel strong when a part of us is being shut down.

Do I want to cry often? Not especially. But understanding it, getting curious about it and making peace with the emotion creates strength. It’s not the end of me, an indictment. It’s not about “the crying.” I’m paying attention to what it’s trying to tell me and nurturing that need, that emotion. It can be messy, but so am I, and I embrace it.

If you were to examine the feelings that arise in you, the emotions, what would they tell you? Where they are coming from? What would it look like to spend time with them, to treat them like a friend trying to tell you something instead of pushing them away? It’s messy work, yes, but brings inner peace. Your authentic self is not something you’re changing into, it’s already there, inside of you. You can use your emotion as a lamp showing you pieces of your authentic self. What you do with those pieces is your journey, the brave journey. I’m on it with you.

 

Posted on

Honor the peace in your heart

lordbyron1I am an Enneagram Nine. If you’re not familiar with the Enneagram, a rudimentary explanation would be that it is a personality typing system that “types” people based on one of nine roles they usually play. It’s far more complex and layered than that, but that’s the “in a nutshell” version.

The Nine is a Peacemaker, they seek reconciliation. That is me. I have played out much of my life with an aversion to conflict. I physically feel conflict in my body, it is not my desired state. I think back to my poor children. If there was any looming conflict between us, I’d want to talk it through, so we could be done with it an move on. 15-year-old boys don’t want to talk it through with their mom. I was relentless.

Tell me what’s wrong… Tell me what’s wrong…Tell me what’s wrong…

Eventually they’d say, we’d talk it through, done. Moving on.

But I recognize that averting conflict or addressing and moving on isn’t always possible. Truthfully, it’s not always appropriate. Conflict doesn’t have to be difficult, but as a Nine, it doesn’t come easy for me.

The Peacemaker in me explains my historical tendency to “go along to get along.” I know there have been times when I have chosen not to engage because the desire to keep the peace was stronger.

I also recognize that there is an inner voice telling me not to make waves. The voice that also tells me if I speak up I might be disliked or cast aside. I might not belong if I make waves. That’s my inner gremlin – trying to keep me “safe,” but in reality, it only keeps me small.

We all have that voice. What it tells us may be different, but it picks away at your confidence, your strength. You are not enough, not smart enough, not good enough, not brave enough, no one cares what you have to say. It tears you down and keeps you small.

Not fully stepping into the life God gave each of us to live. Because of what? Because we’re afraid that we won’t be loved if we live as our true self?

What I know is that staying small isn’t the plan. It’s not my purpose. And it’s not any of our plans. Because each of us has something important to say. We are not meant to stay small.

We can hear that voice and instead of going along, we can choose to say thank you. Thank you for trying to keep me safe, but I am stronger, I am enough, and what you’re saying isn’t true.

Not staying small unnerves Peacemaker self. Not playing small means using my voice, not just in words on a page, but verbally, to say what’s on my mind, what I believe. It means stepping out of get along rut I can fall into and instead, take a different path. It could mean conflict. But there comes a point where staying small, going along to get along, is corrosive to our soul.

Walking out the full story that God planned for me means speaking up. It doesn’t mean picking a fight, that thought makes me want to go running. It means not staying silent. I know there are many people who feel that way today. They have something to say. We’re all on our own journey, but I believe playing small, keeping the peace for the sake of it is not part of any of our plans. Authenticity is my theme this year. And authenticity isn’t a re-creation of yourself, it’s acting in line with what’s in our hearts. You have it in you. Walk out life with courage, moving forward despite the fear. You are brave.

 

 

 

Posted on

Creativity, Clarity and Being Brave

Fearless CreativityHave you ever attended a workshop, a conference, a seminar where you left feeling shift within you? That’s what I experienced last week. I went to gorgeous 1440 Multiversity in Scotts Valley, California for the Brave Magic workshop. I’m not sure ‘workshop’ accurately describes the soul searching emotional smack down that the 600 people who attended went through. There was that, and, oh yeah, there was writing.

The writing part is what I anticipated, what I thought I’d signed up for. Cheryl Strayed and Elizabeth Gilbert were the leaders and wove us through a series of letter writing exercises to, from my perspective, allow us to dive deeply into our own hearts so that we could gain clarity and focus moving forward in our own creative process. Because, as Cheryl has said, “anyone can write a letter.”

Mission accomplished.

I’m still not quite sure the emotional hangover has ended, and I’m ok with that because I continue to think about the work I did. Using the creative process to speak truth to myself tapped into my passions. The part of me that feels light, and clear, and joyful.

I want to talk more about gaining clarity. A happy outcome of last week. It can be so hard in our culture because life screams at us from all sides. We’re “supposed to” be doing XYZ or believing XYZ. Other people dictate what is important in our lives and if we’re not careful we can go along like ants in a line, marching to satisfy someone else’s mission. When we break away from the line, our people often try and pull us back. They remind us that life they way they’ve designed it works perfectly and it’s safe. And it may…for them.

At some point it’s healthy to sort through how we want to engage with life. To review the landscape in front of us and go through a process of determining which parts we align with, and for those where we are different, what exactly is does that mean? If you determine you are led down a different path than the one you always thought you’d be on – mainly because you hadn’t thought much about it – you may find that life feels uncertain for a period.

And that’s where spending time gaining clarity comes into play. Your clarity is that inner voice, the one you can trust that says “this is what I want.” It’s not the voice of your “inner terrible someone,” ITS as Cheryl Strayed described it. The ITS wants to keep you safe instead of paying attention to clarity. I know that following and trusting clarity is where the magic is. Clarity shuts down the inner chatter related to your growth, because the ITS is speaking from fear.

Instead of staying in a space of fear, when you have clarity, choose to engage. To fully engage in what you know to be true, that’s the point where you will feel alive. I believe that as you gain clarity and realize you are not engaging in life according to who you now know yourself to be, you can feel like you’re selling yourself short. Betraying your true self. I know I do. Continuing to interact with life instead of engaging my clarity causes a plethora of frustrations and results in operating from a place of doubt and weakness instead of strength.

I walked away from last weekend with more than words could describe, and you may find slivers of it as I write over the next few weeks. Besides the warm embrace and comfort that comes from being surrounded by close to 600 women (honestly, were there a dozen men there? To say that is a stretch), I gained raw, unfiltered clarity. I know that I know the direction I’m headed. The bold life that God wants me to lead. He’s set me up for it. I choose to walk on that path. And I think it will look different, but I will choose embrace what’s to come even if it makes me uncomfortable.

Clarity isn’t a departure from who I am, it’s finding my true authentic self and letting that girl out to play. Brave Magic may not have been what I anticipated, but it was exactly what I need.

Posted on

What squeaks can tell you

Squeaky meMy foot squeaks. I noticed it, not for the first time, yesterday in a Tai Chi class. Lest you think I’m a regular on the Tai Chi front, let me preface. I’m currently at a workshop at 1140 Multiversity, which is, to put it mildly, transforming! As part of the weekend, there is also a vast assortment meditation, yoga, tai chi, sound healing, dance…I could go on… available. Why would I want to miss any of that? I’m up for trying new things and Tai Chi has been something I’d been curious about.

The studios at 1440 are beautifully designed with clean wood floors and an inviting atmosphere. They are also quiet. Extremely quiet. The campus is in the middle of the woods outside of Santa Cruz. After lunch I headed to the class with a stranger – no longer a stranger – who I’d become friends with in one of the morning sessions. As we started class, I heard it. The rubber of my prosthetic foot squeaking against the floor.

Awesome.

If I’m honest, I don’t know that anyone else heard it. But I did. Louder than ever. It’s one of the hazards of having a foot that is constructed of fiberglass and rubber. It squeaks every time I walk right now because the foot shell rubs against the main part of the leg.

When it started squeaking in class yesterday, I felt a familiar rise of heat in my chest. Embarrassment. I could blame it on being a hot flash, but I’m pretty sure it was that feeling of being an oddity, of standing out, of unwanted attention being drawn to me.

If you were to ask me about my leg today, my first response would likely be that “it’s no big deal.” Well, that’s partially true. It is a big deal in that I work diligently for it to not be. I don’t want to draw attention to it. Squeaking goes against that.  For a few years in school, with kids I’d known my whole life, I tried embracing the “uniqueness” it created in me. I would use it as a prop. Apparently, my strategy was to use laughter to deflect from how I was feeling. Let’s remember, it was high school. Is there anyone who didn’t feel awkward during that time?

We had an hour bus ride and a driver who loved to tell us to keep our feet out of the aisle. One day, we took my foot off and put it in the aisle. It stands by itself, and there it was, standing in the aisle. We saw him look in the mirror and then look away, he had nothing to say. Well, probably in his mind he mumbled something like, “Damn kids…” As an adult I can say, yep, that sounds about right. We got a great laugh out of that one. I let a friend I’d gone to high school with and then college take one of the old ones and keep it in his dorm window – maybe that was in the leg lamp era. High school is so difficult, I could offer all kinds of hypothesis on why we used the leg for our amusement.

I’m a lot of years past that now. And it’s no longer a prop. The unwanted attention from having something that is “less than” causes a sense of shame. That’s where that heat rises from. And although it comes up frequently, I have chosen, and will continue to choose, to keep plowing ahead. That’s the thing about any challenge in our life, we may feel shame or less than, but we can change our narrative.

I’ve chosen to bring the challenge along for the ride. To hear the squeak in the silence and do it anyways. I wrestle with the feelings, but I also know that every single one of us has a thing. A quality or aspect of themselves that they wish was different. It’s a collective struggle. Remember that. I know that to the degree I’ve struggled, the person sitting next to me has too. I believe that makes us relatable. And when we admit and embrace the challenges together, we’re stronger.

The class I’m in at 1440 is Brave Magic with Elizabeth Gilbert and Cheryl Strayed. There have been a million moments of wisdom during this weekend, but one that speaks to me in this moment is about fear. Whether we like it or not, fear is always with us, but we don’t have to let it drive. We can choose to fight it or choose to be curious about it and understand that it’s part of us but keep going anyways. That’s been my choice. My foot is “no big deal,” but it is a big deal, it’s that I choose to keep going. To manage that fear of being different.  I’m not letting the fear drive.

It would be inauthentic to say fear isn’t part of my equation or yours, I suspect. How can you look at it differently today? Get curious about what it’s trying to tell you. Everyone of us can be brave and do it, whatever it is, anyways. What do you need to thank fear for showing you? After you thank fear…keep going. You are brave.

Posted on

Lessons from Mr. Rogers

Mr. RogersI’m late to the game. I know the Mr. Roger Neighborhood documentary/movie came out months ago, but it came to my home screen the other night. I can remember watching Mr. Rogers when I was little as it was one of 2 shows my mom approved me to watch. I will admit to sneaking in a little Wonderful World of Disney and their weekly movie on my little 13 inch black and white TV in my room. But on a more regular basis, Sesame Street, followed by Mr. Rogers.

Here’s the truth. I can remember watching Mr. Rogers and thinking, “move…it…along.” Seriously. Was I 5? 6? Not sure, but not much older and I can remember it seeming slow to me. Get to Make Believe Land already! These were the early years of Mr. Rogers, it aired the first time when I was a year old. But I don’t think it ever lost that pace.

Looking back, I wonder if my little self was either missing, or didn’t want to hear the message he was sharing. I’ve read, and now watched in the movie, about the messages he shared with children. It seems to me that his greatest desire was to listen to children and to normalize what was going on in the world around them. He tackled racism, death, divorce, fear, not being like other people…topics that as grown adults we shy away from, not to mention the multitude of others that he talked to kids about day after day, week after week.

And I wonder why that is? Why is it so difficult to have conversations about certain topics? Particularly with children. Imagine as a child feeling like you’re not like other kids, or that kids don’t like you, or make fun of you. I think that’s every child’s experience to some degree or another. I actually think it’s many adult’s experience as well. But instead of talking about it, we try and make it go away. We try and fix it. We dismiss it. With adults, we tell them to get over it, or to not worry about what others think.

But that doesn’t make the feelings go away. In my mind, what assuages feelings is acknowledging them. Normalizing them. Conversations that help people see that they are not alone. That someone else has felt the way they do.

I have coffee every Saturday morning with a girlfriend. We’re both early risers and are at our local Starbucks by about 6 a.m. We’re the same age and met a couple years ago when I was intent on meeting other women and making friends. It all started over a shared love of Athleta workout pants. She had a brightly colored pair and I commented. The rest is history. And yes, there was coffee that day.

One of the aspects I love the most about those mornings is that we share experiences and it’s confirmation that we’re not alone. We’ve had similar experiences and if one is wrestling with something, the other has probably been there and normalizes it. Having people in your life who can relate to what you’re going through is critically important. I believe for both men and women, though I can only talk about my experience as a woman.

It’s a lie that we have to go through life on our own. And, honestly, there are some areas where we need to talk to other women (or men as the case may be). I think my husband is thankful I have my coffee talks, I work through a lot of the craziness in my head over a Venti. Plain coffee for me, you didn’t ask, but I’m offering…nothing fancy.

Back to Mr. Rogers, that’s who he was for children. Every day. He’d tackle topics that adults are often hesitant to talk about with kids in a gentle way. He made them normal. He used Daniel Striped Tiger, King Friday XIII, Lady Elaine, and others on the show to talk through real issues children were facing. And he did it all while acknowledging kids for who they were and loving on them. That’s what we all want, to be known and loved.

If you haven’t watched this movie, it’s worth it. And the brave step I’d encourage you to take today? Love each other. Just as Mr. Rogers did, just as God calls us to do. It doesn’t have to be complicated, or over intellectualized. Just…love…each…other.

Posted on

Why don’t my shoes fit? Looking for true answers…

Wrong FeetI was pretty sure my foot had grown, deformed, or something else had happened overnight the other day to explain why my shoes were SO uncomfortable. All day, I was wiggling my foot around, side to side, trying to adjust it. Convinced my foot had decided to make a bigger footprint, literally, I had decided to throw the shoes away when I got home. It’s not you, shoes, it’s me, but we’re breaking up.

Cut to a video meeting I had the afternoon of that same day. A demo, actually. I was feeling fairly snoozy and looking for ways to stay awake. I looked down at the shoes that had betrayed me and realized they were on…the…wrong…feet. I was so startled that I, in all professionalism, stopped the meeting to call myself out on it. I mean, I’m a 50-year-old woman, what the heck?

I’d spent all day in discomfort, thinking something else was wrong, that it wasn’t the shoes, that maybe my shoes were in Honey, I Shrunk the Kids, and forgot me. But no, it was a situation I put myself in.

My shoes made me think about those times in life when we’re in uncomfortable situations. When it feels like our life is out of sync. So often, we put ourselves there in the first place. And in the same vein, the change to be more comfortable is one that we must initiate. No one can do it for us.  But how quickly do we turn to wanting to ditch that which causes discomfort? And what does that do?

Nothing. Sure, in my case my foot would have been more comfortable…but I would have been out a good pair of shoes. But, let’s say the problem really was that my foot had spread out like peanut butter on a hot day. Throwing the shoes away would have done nothing to solve that challenge. We’re so quick to jump to the solution that causes us the least struggle, that puts the onus on someone or something else. But unless we look at the piece of the struggle we’ve caused, we’re no further along.

Shoe-gate also made me key into my intuition. It was a simple situation, but I knew something was off and I couldn’t quite get to the answer. I had the feeling it was something else besides the idea that my foot had grown, but instead of trusting myself and my intuition, I kept looking outward. I believe my intuition is strong, but my past pattern has been to rely on what I can see and touch rather than what I know.

Trusting our intuition is part of looking inward. Trusting ourselves instead of external forces. We know what is true for us, what we need. We’re programmed to not trust that, but instead to look externally for answers. I’ve been challenging myself to trust my intuition, to tap into it. It requires tuning out the noise of the world and tuning into that still small voice inside of me.

Somedays it feels like life throws us constant curveballs, but I’d suggest it doesn’t have to feel like that. What if what we face is not really a curveball at all, but a chance to turn internally and make a choice to let it slide by? To ask ourselves if it we need to respond at all? And to trust what comes up. It may be that the curveball is an opportunity to grow part of us, or an opportunity to let go of a belief or action that no longer serves us. Reacting to the external curveball won’t produce growth, looking internally will.

Listening to ourselves, to the inner voice, making a choice to respond, or not…it’s all part of shaping our authentic self. Of sorting out life and determining which pieces we want as part of our story. It’s being brave. It’s looking past the obvious, the shoes, to see what else could be happening. And knowing in some cases it actually is the shoes and to save our energy for other true changes.

Today, can you choose to let those so-called challenges sit in front of you and simply observe them? Don’t react. Observe. And trust that you have the answer inside you. Trust your intuition. You’ll find peace in staying within your true self. And you may even keep that pair of shoes.