Be Kind

Someday I am going to write a book about all the lessons I have learned through my children and how they can be applied to “grownup” problems. Until then, you will have to continue reading my blogs.

About 6 weeks ago, Adeline was riding with LJ in their battery-powered John Deere tractor. For almost every day during quarantine, they have tooled around in it together with LJ always driving and Adeline putting her feet up and enjoying the ride. They have utilized it so much that the plastic tires are bare. On this particular day, LJ stopped in the middle of our cul-de-sac and Adeline went spilling out the side. I heard LJ proclaim “Zsa Zsa!”, his nickname for her, and then Adeline got up and came running to me with blood streaming from her mouth. She hardly ever cries but she cried for almost an hour straight after the incident. She would not close her mouth and I was worried that one of her front teeth knocked loose. Thank goodness, her mouth healed quickly and there was no damage to her teeth.

 

For the next week or so I found myself following her around the house saying “be careful!” or “slow down!” or “don’t jump” or “don’t run!” or some other phrase because I was anxious she was going to bump her mouth again and either aggravate her wounds or knock her tooth loose for real. The night OF the incident, she and LJ were running around the house doing a gymnastics routine which consisted of flipping on a bar, running a lap, and then doing a forward roll. My anxiety was through the roof. “Adeline, slow down!” “Adeline, be careful!”

About a week after that, Grandma and Grandpa announced that they had gotten Adeline her own battery-powered Jeep for Christmas. She has talked about having a jeep for over a year, points out every Jeep on our drives and runs, and yet I seriously considered telling them not to give it to her because of her run-in with the pavement weeks before.

At some point, I realized how ridiculous I was being. I cannot run around trying to keep my kids from injuring themselves. Sure, I could have eliminated all battery-powered toys from our outside toy arsenal and put a ban on all gymnastics routines inside of our house but then what message would I be sending? To tell a toddler not to run or jump is like telling them not to be a kid. They NEED this for physical development and for body/spatial awareness.

I thought back to some of the best advice I had received as a parent. It is less helpful to tell your child “Be careful!” which may be well intentioned but sends a vague message to your child that everything around them could be dangerous and is just generally uninspiring. For example, if a child is navigating over uneven terrain while on a walk in the woods, simply telling her to “be careful” may send the message that everything on this walk in the woods is scary and dangerous. On the other hand, if you say something more specific like, “Do you see those rocks right there? They could be slippery,” or “Do you see how some tree roots are sticking out? Keep your eye on them.” This is more inspiring because it conveys the message that you are confident in your child to know risks and to take them AND it lets them know that they do have some control over what could be dangerous.

So, how does this relate to my idea of writing a book about how lessons learned through my children can be applied to grownup problems? Well, a phrase has snuck into our vocabulary during this pandemic that really bothers me. People depart in person saying it, they sign their emails with it, and they end meetings with it. The phrase is, “BE SAFE” and I cannot stand it. This is the adult version of shouting to our children, “Be careful!” It is a well-intentioned phrase with potentially negative effects. This is not a post to debate the pandemic. I do believe and follow guidance that we should be wearing masks, distancing, and taking other measures to mitigate the effects of COVID-19. However, we already live in a society where anxiety is the most commonly diagnosed mental health disorder. Telling people to “Be safe.” sends the message the world is nothing but a scary place. What does “be safe” even mean? If everyone took the phrase “be safe” to heart, we would never do anything. Life is full of risks. Falling in love is a risk, having a child is a risk, starting a business is a risk, speaking up in a meeting is a risk, investing in the stock market is a risk, etc etc etc. Yes, I do believe in the intention of the phrase “be safe” but I would suggest we start using something else that sends less of a vague and uninspiring message. 

What if we said, “Be kind.” instead? What if we said, “Becompassionate.” instead? Be kind/compassionate to others and their decisions around the pandemic, be kind/compassionate to others who may have fared differently in their physical and mental health over the last 10 months, be kind/compassionate as we head into more unknowns for the next six months. Be kind to the old man who has decided to go back to the YMCA to exercise in order to improve his failing mental health. Be compassionate to the woman who has an autoimmune disease and has requested to work from home until there is a vaccine. Yes, you could argue the phrase “be kind” or “be compassionate” is vague as well, but in general, it sends a positive message and if we have people being “generally kind or compassionate”, that is still probably a good thing!

I am not sure if we should choose this phrase over the phrase “Be safe.” I am open to suggestions!  Maybe I need to just accept that the phrase annoys me and move on. If you think I am a whacko and think using “Be safe” is the way to go, I’d love to hear that opinion, too! 

Until I hear from you, be kind and compassionate, friends. And let your children have battery-powered toys and do gymnastics routines. LOVE!

 

Holy Interruptions

This isn’t the blog post I intended to write this weekend. I had planned on writing a reflective piece about grief and 2020 as it is a topic that has been weighing heavily on my mind the last couple of days.

I will still write that post (potentially the next time I write), but it will not be the post that I’m writing this weekend. You see, it’s 9:21 on Sunday evening, and I am just now starting my blog post. I had wanted to start composing it earlier this weekend, but this weekend has been a straight up clusterf*ck.

Essentially, it’s been one interruption and chaotic event after another this weekend for the majority of my family. It started on Thursday evening when my car was stolen. I won’t go into the entire story here, but suffice to say, that event was a huge interruption on both my- and other people’s- lives. Because my car was stolen, I was not able to accomplish the work that I needed to do that evening, and I lost several of my intimate possessions. It was, clearly, an interruption on my finances and career. Additionally, I had to call my father to come get me, and then he waited with me while we talked to the police. His life was interrupted trying to help me. Then, because of security reasons, I stayed at my older sister’s house this weekend, and she had to give me food and rides. Her life was interrupted. Moreover, because my phone was in my car, I didn’t have any sort of way to communicate with everyone I needed to collaborate with. So, I had to borrow my nephew’s phone for a day. His life was interrupted. And then, if enough people weren’t involved already, my mom came down on Friday, and she spent a significant amount of time taking me to get a new driver’s license and a rental car. Her life was interrupted.

And then today, just when the consequences of my car fiasco started to abate, I received a frantic call from my nephew (the same one whose phone I had borrowed until I got a new one running). He was frantic and in tears, and he hysterically explained that he cut himself on a knife. He was bleeding everywhere and he was deathly afraid. I was in the middle of working and had to pull over so I could talk with him. I did my best to calm him and talk with him, but when he showed me the blood and the gash on his finger, I knew he needed medical care. However, I was in Ankeny, and it would take me too long to get to his house. So, I called my father, and he went to take him to the hospital until dissident daughter Jill, his mother, could meet them there. More interruptions for all of us this evening to care for my nephew and his accident.

Ay yi yi. It was a tough weekend in many ways. And yet- while I don’t particularly love the idea of interruptions- I AM learning to embrace the holiness that comes with them. Despite the fear and exhaustion from these various layers of interruption, there is so much grace and connection in these moments. I mean, the cart theft alone was one hell of a story that I was able to share with others and laugh about. I appreciate the extra time I was able to have talking over coffee with my mom, sister, niece, and nephew because I spent the night with them. Those casual, intimate moments are the substance of life and relationships. I also enjoyed the extra hours of lounging I gave myself this weekend after dealing with the stress of having so much stolen from me.  And, finally, I absolutely love that my nephew trusted me enough to call me tonight to ask for help when he didn’t know what to do.

There is so much holiness and grace to be found in these interrupted moments that do not go according to plan. These moments give us connection, insight, humor, and appreciation that we may not have experienced otherwise. Moreover, they highlight the incredible interconnectedness and mutuality that need to define our social communities. These concepts sound so simple and obvious, and yet, we humans often fail at reciprocity. I love that my 12 year old nephew let me borrow his phone, and only 2 days later, I was able to embody the bi-directional relationship exchange by supporting him in return.  

Interruptions are holy, and we can experience that transcendence if we look for it and allow it.

Of course, I also don’t want to wax poetic about these experiences as though they are completely positive and without challenges. Let me be clear- to be “holy,” does not mean that something is “pure” and “without fault.” A definition of holy that assumes it means “unsullied” is one that is- quite frankly- naïve. For an experience to be holy, rather, is simply to notice how the presence of God is able to proliferate and be felt despite the unfortunate aspects of the context.

There ARE undeniably negative consequences from some of the clusterf*ck this past week. I’m going to take a financial hit with everything I have to replace in my car, and it’s happening at a horrible time as I’m a month away from closing on my first house. My father was not able to accomplish everything he needed and wanted to this weekend because he was running all over helping us amidst the chaos. He is retired and lives close by, so we lean on his time often to help us out. Additionally, my nephew was in significant pain as he cut his finger, and he was scared by the amount of blood that the cut caused.

There are negative, challenging, and tough experiences when life is interrupted, and we do ourselves – and others- a disservice when we try to pretend that every event is sunshine and roses. However, what I DO want to encourage all of us to do is to look for the “holiness” that occurs within and despite the shittiness of life. I promise you- it is always there- and it will lift you up and keep you moving forward.

Thanks, everyone, for helping me with my interruptions. I felt loved, and the incident is already very manageable and comical with only 3 days hindsight. That’s what holiness does for us.