The Frame Goes Out The Window

A few days ago I purchased a print from an artist on Etsy.  It was a gift for a dear friend of mine and I wanted it to go in a beautiful frame. I went to the store and purchased a standard sized frame.  I had the print with me and although I didn't measure, it looked like it would fit.   Once I got home and attempted to place the print in the frame I found it was just a little too tight.   Now I had a choice to make.  Return the frame and go searching for another one, maybe even custom made as it was now clear to me that this was not a standard size print.  My other option was to trim away at the edges, lose a little bit of the picture, nobody would notice or ever know.  I could make it fit in the standard size frame, the easiest solution. I had the scrapbooking tools to make it happen.  However, I knew that if I cut away at the picture I would be loosing part of the beauty that the artist put there.   The work she so lovingly created would be destroyed.  Perhaps it would still look good sitting there in that frame, but something would be missing, it would be a broken image, less than what it should have been.  The picture had been perfectly made, every drop of color and tiny marking meant to be there.  Who was I to say it had to go in a standard sized frame?  

During that time of framing the print and considering cutting away at it I thought about the latest decison for the education of my son. I thought of all the time we spend telling him to just sit still and try harder. Wiggle a little less and for goodness sake stop doing cartwheels when you are supposed to be in line waiting with the rest of the children! This is what we had been doing.  Trying to make him fit into a educational system that is standard size.  The problem is that he wasn't created to be in a standard frame.  We can trim away at him, put him in the hallway, explain that he must do what the rest of the class is doing.  We can make him feel like he isn't good at school and destroy his joy in learning....or we can throw the frame out the window and see where the exploding ball of excitement would like to bounce to!

Just where did this standard size education come from anyway?  It came from the industrial revolution.  We needed people who could stand still, focus, and do one job very well all day long.  They needed to be strong in self control and imagination and movement were frowned upon.  We also had the farmers, planning the crops, daily repetition of caring for the crops, careful examination of soil conditions and waiting patiently for the harvest.  We needed those farmers, we still do.  We need those people in the factories.  The trouble is not everyone was created to be a farmer or factory worker.  Some are wild hunters, always on there guard, ready to run, climb, and swing to reach their prey. They must be clever and quick to react in danger. They are on the move and rarely settling in one place for long. They belonged in the wild, but there isn't very much wild left in today's world and so they are left to be looked at as trouble makers.   Thom Hartman writes about this in The Edison Gene.  The book goes trailing into some genetics that I skipped over but the heart of the book is that American socieity, and schools were created for the farmers type, they work very well for most children but for the hunter child they are a nightmare. Those children deserve something different.  Something more than a label and time in the corner wearing a dunce cap.  

Even if you think Thom Hartman is a loony (and some people certainly do) there is other research out there with the same message about school and kids like my son.  

 I've done a lot of reading on kinesthetic learners (Learning by doing/moving) and kids who have been diagnosed with ADHD.  Studies have been done showing that children who were diagnosed with ADHD and medicated so that they could be successful in school no longer needed medication to learn once they switched to learning at home.  Here is the catch though, if the parent used a traditional curriculum the child would still have trouble learning and the parent would feel they needed medication.  If however, the parent  did not follow a curriculum or educate in an environment like that of a traditional school the child no longer needed medication to learn.  This means not homeschool in the way of "whatever school does, but at home." Instead it must be child lead learning.  The child picks what they want to learn and the parent facilitates getting them to the information they need.  You can check out the study in Psychology Today (because that is the kind of stuff I read in my spare time.)   The idea of no curriculum and following whatever he wanted to do sounded a bit scary and possibly a terrible idea so whenever I began to doubt my decision I would look back at this study.

I am not doubting it anymore.  My intuition has been screaming all along that this whole "school" thing wasn't best for him and about a month ago the decision was made final.

  "You can learn ANYTHING you want!" I told him.  

"Remember you took Spanish at school and didn't like it, what language would you like to learn?" 

 Without a moments pause he replied, "Ancient Egyptian." 

Since then my husband has taken him to the library, he checked out a book on hieroglyphs, learned about the Rosetta stone (the real one, not the learning program) and has began his journey in unschooling.    

There are some tricks you can use as a parent and one of them is called strewing.  Basically  it means putting things out there that you think would interest your child.  You don't tell them  they must look/play/study the item and if they never pick it up that is fine.  Although secretly you might be wanting to beg them to look at it.   I did this a couple weeks ago with cursive.   I knew that my son was interested in cursive because last year he dissected writings until he discovered how to sign his name in cursive.  I was at Barnes and Noble and saw a cursive practice book, the kind with the arrows that tell you how to make the letter.   I brought it home, and showed him, I simply said, if you decide to check it out be sure to look at the little arrows as they will guide you on how to move the pencil.    I left it on the kitchen table that evening and went to bed.   The next morning, before I had even woken up he had already finished the entire cursive alphabet. I was actually strewing before I knew the term existed.  The year between 1st and 2nd grade he wasn't feeling like a strong reader.  I started writing notes back and forth with my daughter intentinally leaving them where he would find them, and of course he would want to read them to spy on his sister and mom.  His reading confidence improved greatly that summer.   That is strewing at it's best... at it's worst they ignore it and learn something they are more interested in.   

This method of learning doesn't have to be done only at home, schools can certainly do it too. Montessori gets very close and there is Sudbury, and Reggio schools using this method throughout the world.   There is one school in Mexico that was previously using the traditional method of teaching and switched it up and now the kids are one of the top schools in the country.   You may have heard of the computers given to children in India.  No instructions, just a computer.   Driven by their curiosity they figured out how to boot it up and much more.  The article on both of those stories and more can be found on Wired.

The initial thought I had was that this way of education will not be convenient for me.  Next I thought of all that we had put into making regular school work for him.  The emotional energy that was drained from hearing the latest news from the classroom of what he had done wrong that day. His own feeling of failure, or his defensiveness as he told me that he wasn't being "bad" but just had to sit in the hallway.   The nervousness when I would volunteer in the classroom as I would try to somehow telepathically control him into sitting still and not making a sarcastic comment.   I actually stopped volunteering in his classroom because it was bringing me so much anxiety.  So perhaps, mentally and emotionally this is not inconvenient at all.   I feel very lucky that our family can make this choice.  I do not have to work a 40 hour work week and  I know that not everyone has the luxury of taking their child out of school, or the choices nearby of alternative education styles.

Looking forward I am excited and hopeful.  I'm seeing the potential in my son rather than what he is lacking.  I wish more kids like him had the options to learn in their own way.  I imagine we would have many more Da Vincis, Einsteins, and Newtons if they were only allowed the time and space to explore.

Summer is racing

It's August now and summer has just been so quick that it makes me excited and sad all at the same time. Trying to pack in all the fun that comes with sunlight in Oregon.  We have such a long and dark winter that it makes me appreciate the days of light.  I love summer!  We have been going to the pool as much as possible and my children just morph into calm and happy when they enter the water.  Maybe that is everyone actually.  Hooray for swimming!

I have written nothing because the days have been so full.  We took our children to their first renaissance fair.  My daughter fell in love with it, as I knew she would.   I also survived the county fair with  hours of hot concrete and questionably safe rides.  It's been great.... and then if I stop and glance out of my bubble, it has been a devastating and horrible summer.  My car stereo usually switches to NPR during the school year after the kids hop out and get loaded into the classroom.   These days it's rare that I catch a glimpse, but when I do I just want to cry, and sometimes I do.

  I can't help but fill with tears because all this stuff outside my bubble of swimming and fun, it is real and it makes me so sad and angry and helpless.   I want so badly to take in refugees, stop bombs, and slap congress... so badly to change any one of these things.   Instead I focus back into my bubble, into these children who will hopefully be in the future making changes long after I am around to guide them.  I teach them tolerance, kindness, acceptance, peace and somehow for today that has to be enough.   It rips my heart out to imagine the face of a child seeing a sign of hate after a treacherous journey and a hot bus ride through a foreign place, a place that you were told would be full of hope and opportunity. America the beautiful.

I imagine if I was that Mexican mother, if I lived in a place where drug lords told me I better do what they say or they would take my precious daughter. To think that they would train my little adventurous boy to be just like them.  You can bet that I would grab my children and run away! Because I don't think I could imagine the journey running away would be worse than the reality of staying.  Still, how scary that run would be, and how impossible the odds. I can't even begin to come close to imagining what those mothers are facing.   Just the thought of my children's faces terrified by their world, I can hardly take the sight of their faces when they have a rough day at school.   How can anyone hold a sign with hateful words to such innocent people who are just trying to keep their children safe, keep themselves safe.   I don't care who you vote for, what "party" you are in.  re-attach yourself to humanity, open your eyes, put your sign down and help someone.

Coming off my soap box now... but if the problems of your summer sound more like mine be thankful and show some love to those who are hiding in bomb shelters, sneaking out of violent countries, and scared for their life.

My summer problems have consisted of what type of fruit to freeze in the popsicle container and saying things like "you've had 2 hours of minecraft... turn it off!!!" "Stop climbing the washing machine." "Find a tissue and why on earth would you NAME your booger?"
  I feel like a jerk for thinking that these are problems and my life is "stressful"

Accepting Mindy Kaling's Challange

I recently read Mindy Kaling's book Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me.  I always liked Mindy's character on The Office and her new show The Mindy Project is pretty funny.  Plus I felt like I needed a light humor read that was about frivolous and unimportant things like fashion.  One chapter however echoed with me, and while she wrote it in a funny way I am sure she was serious.  She said something like "Married people need to step it up."  I couldn't agree more, but I can only change myself so I will step it up.  
Her argument was that single ladies envision this beautiful happily ever after.  They WANT to be married.  While all the married people complain about their spouse, and eventually get divorced.  (She said it all way cooler, and i can't quote directly because it was a kindle library loan and it went *poof* back into the cloud of books a few days ago.)  So this post, is me stepping it up, and if your married, encouraging you to step it up.

(  If you are divorced, or separated my heart breaks for you and I hope this doesn't make you feel bad.  I hope you don't feel that I am bragging or judging.  I almost didn't write this because of fear of hurting my dear friends. )

The most important part of my job as a birth doula is to protect that sacred space in birth so that the family can fully feel and become bonded.  There is so much energy, love, endorphin, sometimes anger, sometimes sadness, and hope.  All of that must be guarded from the outside world. I stand guard keeping it wrapped into their space as everything transpires.   Marriage needs that same protection, it is sacred space that we must acknowledge and keep guarded.   
I write this with hesitation because my marriage is still young, 12 years now.  Also because my friends are hurting from fresh separation, broken vows, and broken hearts.   I've seen this pain close up and I don't for one second want them to think I am judging.  They have walked through these things with all the strength and grace you could ever imagine.  
Still there are those with relationships much younger than mine, with marriages just beginning to blossom.  These things I'm learning, I wish to share.  

We are the only ones who matter.  Now, I don't mean that we can't help our neighbor or that we should abandon everyone else.  What I mean is that what my husband and I choose and decide for our life, our family, or anything else.  That is our decision and if others disagree, or share options of how "he is too this," or "I am too that," if what we have is working for us then that is enough.  Social approval doesn't matter.    An example would be that I'm an extrovert and he is an introvert.   When we first got married I thought we were "supposed" to be together, like all the time.  He thought so too.  So we would go to parties because I wanted to, or we wouldn't because he didn't want to.   Years have taught me that I can go to parties with friends instead, and he can stay home with a book.  Sure, I might get comments like, "Hey, where is your husband?" and maybe they think he is a jerk for not coming.  It really doesn't matter, as long as I don't think he's a jerk for not coming.  

You will feel enraged and fight or flight will take over.  These feelings will flare up and  you can feed the fire or breath and release.  I had trouble with this a lot a few years ago, I think it was fueled by not sleeping thanks to a fun 18 month old who enjoyed seeing me every hour or two for eternity.    I would get so angry, suddenly everything that my husband did made me furious.  The way he walked, breathed, didn't do X,YZ, did do X,Y,Z.   The moments would flare up from nowhere, something little and every time they did I had to make a choice.   In my head I could keep going down that road and follow it to other things that bothered me.  Or, I could stop, breath, (maybe eat a chocolate) and think of something he did that I appreciated.   This is a choice, and sometimes I made the choice of anger, but it never left me feeling better.   Plus, I know that given the chance, he could have easily compiled a list of my shortcomings.  Deep down buried under the exhausted parents with the darkened eyes we knew that we loved each other and we were trying our best, even if it didn't look pretty.  Why make it worse with tiny junk?  It's like a cluttered desk, you can't get any work done with all that mess and marriage often times takes some work.  Especially when babies don't sleep.   

Women love to get together and talk and often times things that come out are complaints about their spouse. It seems there is a social pressure to complain.  It sometimes goes in a circle, and there you are, your turn to add in his latest blunder, or how he never does the laundry (I'm blessed with a laundry ninja who sneaks loads in when I'm extra busy.)  I am guilty of adding to the circle of talk but my goal is to stop participating.   I've had some wise words from women who have been married more years than I have been alive. Their marriages are still amazing and I want that.  They have discouraged this talk and I'm aiming for keeping my mouth shut.  I know it's going to be hard.   I don't want people to think I've got it all together.  I don't want my friends to feel bad about their own marriages because I don't commiserate with my own story.  By not saying anything, I hope they don't hear, "I have no problems, and my husband does everything right, you must have married a loser!"  Again though, this is about protecting that sacred space.  I know how much it would hurt me if I heard my husband complaining about me.  I would feel terrible, so why should being a woman give me a right to do the same to him?  Lets make a social change and start lifting our loves up instead!   We need to hear more good stories.

Our children need to hear and see more good stories too.  Not the fairy tales, the real stories about what love can look like.   One of my dear friends said that when she was a young girl and her parents were divorced she had a friend that she would sometimes go home with after school.  When she would go to her friends house the girl was often embarrassed because her parents would hold hands.  This simple act of love showed my friend, who's parents never acted like this, what marriage could look like.  Married people could hold hands and love each other.  It gave her hope and an example that she didn't have at home. My friend is now in a very loving and wonderful marriage and still thinks of this couple and the example they gave her.   Now, please don't make out in front of children, but if you love your spouse, don't be afraid to love them in public too.  We need to break the idea of marriage being the end of romance.  

We must go on dates for goodness sake.  Before people get married they spend hours picking out what to wear, getting their hair done, fretting about insignificant things to impress and woo the person they adore.  Men, maybe do less picking out clothes and more Axe body spray, but you get the picture.  We try REALLY hard, until we don't need to.  Except, we still need to, sometimes.  I'm not saying everyday.  If your kid is up all night with the flu, or you just pulled a 70 hour work week.  Perhaps that day you stomp around in your bathrobe and grumble things about more coffee.  Often though, we need to go back to trying, and go out, somewhere you would have gone before marriage, without your kids, and remember the couple version of you and your spouse.   When my husband and I do this, and we are getting better at doing it more often, we say things like "Oh yeah, there you are, I like hanging out with you." Sometimes we don't say anything, we just sit knowing that we both needed this time together.  This time away from kids and housework and regular work and carpools.  Sacred space, just us, alone.    This time must be protected, it must be honored, and it must happen more often then once a year.   No excuses.  If you can figure out how to attend a parent teacher conference together then you can figure out how to go on a date.  

Read this book, For Women Only, and if your married to a man there is one for him called For Men Only.  This book is so interesting because guess what.  Men are crazy different than women (talk about the book and find out what is true for you and your partner, there are always people who don't fit in boxes.)    
Here is the deal, simple things can be huge things.  Like respect, Men want respect more than love.  OK, maybe you knew that part, but did you know that offering help or directions when your man is doing something is disrespectful?  Yeah, apparently it says, "I think your an idiot."  I thought it said, "I love you so much, let me help you with that."   Nope!   Things like that are in the book.  Something small, but if everyday your husband is hearing that you think he's an idiot and you think you are saying, "I love helping you" then eventually you are going to have a problem.   This book is great, she interviewed tons of men and took the top 7 things or something like that.  Just read it and then you can scratch your head and go, wow, men are so funny.

One more thing, for the puppy love couples who think they need to like all the same music and movies in order to have a lasting relationship.   You do not have to agree on everything.  My husband and I have a joke, a funny thing we don't talk about but sometimes say the word to get a laugh.  That word is homeopathy.  My science guy cannot stand it.  He says it doesn't work because blablablablablascience.   I listened once or twice to his logic and reason, watched a video, but I don't care.  I love it anyway.   It works!  Or does it?  It doesn't matter.  We don't have to agree and we can laugh about how amazingly opposed he is, and how I think it's just dandy and would you like some arnica?   So I take my tiny white pills sometimes and he rolls his eyes but it's not a deal breaker, and it certainly not worth an argument.   There are too many real, big issues to trouble with, no reason to agree on the tiny things.   

I'm not perfect, I will mess up.  I will forget to pay a bill, wash pants, turn off the hot water valve while installing a new faucet while he naps on the couch so that he can awake to hot water blasting everywhere (yeah, that happened.)  I am a messy human.  I need forgiveness, I need grace, I need  sacred space to be my quirky, dancing, messy self.   So does my husband.  We must offer it to each other daily.  Like I said, our marriage is young, I am sure there will be more trials and trouble ahead but if we keep doing our best and letting go of the tiny junk I think we will make it.  

It's a girl...hey where did everybody go? -My Messy Beautiful

Swaddled in a pastel blanket, there she is on the balcony of my apartment, three stories up from the parking lot.  The railing is there but she is so small that she rolls and slips right under the base, falling quick towards the pavement below.

 I snap back to reality, my heart racing, my breath rapid and frantic, my mind full of fear and horror, why does this scene keep playing in my head.  I look over at my sweet 6 week old daughter laying safely in her bouncy seat and start to calm down as I return to reality.   
A year before this I had longed to be a mother.  I was recently married and filled with excitement at the idea of starting a family.  So why was this happening to me now that the moment had arrived?  Why was I seeing horrible visions of my sweet baby?  Why was I so sad all the time?  Why did I panic anytime I needed to go anywhere or make a decision?  This was supposed to be a happy wonderful time and I was a complete wreck.   

I didn't dare tell anyone, actually writing that first paragraph was extremely hard.  I haven't even told my husband about that horrible vision.  I feared they might think I was a terrible mother, or take my daughter away from me.   I loved her, woke at all hours of the night to nurse her, sang songs to her, and  would do anything for her.  I thought that maybe it was just exhaustion and if I could catch up on my sleep it would go away, then one day I went to buy some chicken.   I went to the drive-thru of a fried chicken place and when my turn came to order I panicked.   I was buying dinner for myself and my husband, I had decided that this would be easier than cooking a meal with a newborn, it wasn't.  I could not make a decision on how many pieces of chicken I needed.   My heart began racing, my chest got tight, I felt dizzy and like I couldn't breath as all the options of combo meals ran through my mind.  I sat parked in front of the speaker frozen and feeling like I was about to die.  This, was my wake-up call that I was not doing OK and this certainly couldn't be normal.   I was suffering from a case of postpartum depression and I needed help.  

Fast forward to today and I am now a mother of two children, ages 8 and 11. (this picture is old, I can't seem to find a recent one.)  I am also a birth doula and now I get to support women as they go through the journey of pregnancy, birth, and postpartum.   This work often makes me think back to those first few months of motherhood and the struggle and pain that came with the joy and elation.   I question how it happened to me, and how I can help it from happening to others.  I am not sure that I can single-handedly stop it from happening but I can certainly start a conversation about it.  Sometimes raising awareness of something helps the people going through it not feel alone when they come to face it.   I think a big part of postpartum depression is feeling alone.   

Prior to having my daughter my husband and I had a group of friends to go out with, outdoor parties by the pool and music in downtown Austin. After she was born our friends stopped calling because they assumed we would be too tired or busy to go out.  When I was pregnant there was rarely alone time.  Strangers at the grocery store wanted to talk to me about my growing belly. Did I know if it was a girl or boy? What name had we picked? How was I feeling, and could they get me anything?  Pregnancy can be a pretty self indulgent time. The world takes notice and stops to pamper you.   Then, you have the baby, everyone rushes in, makes a big fuss and then in about two weeks they all vanish.  Paternity leave, if there was any, ends all too quickly. Helpful grandmothers go back home.  There you sit in a rocking chair, sleep deprived, baby spit up on your shirt, a pile of dishes and laundry, and an adorable baby. Messy, Beautiful.

Now I know that there are support groups like Postpartum Support International so that no new mother has to feel alone.  For myself, I spoke to my Dr, read an encouraging "new mom" books, took some zoloft, prayed, joined some online social chat rooms, and made myself get out of the house.   I wish I would have known there were local support groups and so many women that had been through it before and that is why I'm telling you my story.

How about as a community we decide that we don't just go away after the first two weeks of our friend having a baby.  Let's keep gushing over her, go clean her house, or ask her if she wants to go out dancing.  She might say no, but being invited feels so good!   It lifts you up out of the foggy valley of parenting to see that the world didn't just forget about you.  It is helpful to know that you are more than a milk machine and diaper changer, you are the cool friend that your girlfriends want to hang out with.  I have a theory that small villages do not experience the levels of postpartum depression that Americans do.  Actually 1 in 10 Americans report depression according to the CDC.   That is ridiculously high but I totally believe it.   We are all on our phones, updating our status to say how awesome our life is, and the real community, the hugs from a friend, the sound of their voice in a conversation, the things that stimulate our souls.... are lacking.

I wish I could tell you that I don't feel alone anymore, but the truth is that I do.  Often.  My guess is that you do too.  I'm not depressed, I find joy in my family and my garden and crafting.  This busy America is set up for folks to feel lonely despite all of that.   I have thought it the past that it was because I am the mother of a child on the autism spectrum, or because my son has SPD and all that meant I had to say "no" to doing some fun things for the balance of my family.   I am sure that is part of it but it's bigger than that.  1 out of 10 Americans, it's so much bigger than my situation.   I think it's because things are too rushed to connect.  We drive around, drop kids off places, check our email while walking, and forget to look up and communicate with the people around us.  Also we are daily seeing stories and pictures of moments that we were never a part of.   I look at everyone's facebook updates and feel like I am missing those moments.  The family that is far away having a birthday party, the  friends I haven't seen in 10 years because of all the miles between us.  Part of seeing that is a gift because we do get to stay updated on family and dear friends, but since when does looking at an old photo album make anyone feel less lonely.

I got off track from the postpartum depression, but my point is that the loneliness and depression can happen regardless of life stage.  I think society expects it less from the new mother because "she should be happy with her new baby."  The new mother needs special care, but really we all do.
 This essay and I are part of the Messy, Beautiful Warrior Project — To learn more and join us, CLICK HERE! And to learn about the New York Times Bestselling Memoir Carry On Warrior: The Power of Embracing Your Messy, Beautiful Life, just released in paperback, CLICK HERE!

 

The Weight Of Mercy - Part 2 (making it lighter and filling your cup)

I've been on a journey of exploring this thing called mercy for many weeks now.  I'm still learning but I wanted to share some things that I have learned along the way.   The first thing that I learned was to not hold on to things that aren't mine to hold.  In order to do that I had to evaluate what really was mine and what wasn't.  I absorb the emotions of those around me, so much sometimes that I'm easily tricked into thinking they are my emotions.  Somewhere I know they aren't but my response is to act as if they are mine.    I'm getting better at this now, each time an emotion rushes through me I assess the situation, I ponder on whether or not  it is coming from me, and then I ponder what I am truly feeling.   If you aren't super empathetic this might seem crazy to you, but if you are then hopefully this is helpful.   I'm also finding that physically separating myself from the person who is radiating emotion can be helpful.  I don't stay away too long, just enough to get grounded and figure out how I feel, and how they feel, and then I can move forward knowing what is true.

My dear friends at church met with my husband and I to tell us that they were moving very far away.  I was sad, but also I was happy for them because it seemed that they were embarking on a divinely inspired adventure and I was excited to see what will happen next.  That next Sunday they announced it at church and immediately the room was flooded with so much emotion, a lot of it felt like extreme sadness, fear, and despair.  Our pastor asked that we gather around them in prayer and I knew that I could not be in the middle of that circle.  I wouldn't have known that a month ago.  I would have rushed right up there and become immensely overwhelmed. Luckily for me I was working on figuring this out and so I stayed on the outside physically, reminding myself of my own true feelings and accepting that I couldn't fix or stop the other people from their sadness.  It was still difficult but I was able to acknowledge what feelings didn't belong with me and then pray for those who were feeling the other emotions.

My next lesson has been that my cup must be full.  Full of rest, joy, love, and health and then from the overflow, that is where I can help others.   I'm working on filling my cup, and not feeling guilty about it because it means that when I go to help others I will be so much more useful and I won't break out in a crazy stress rash at the end of the day.

I must sit, and pray, and wait.  My bible study group has been reading a book that I can't remember the title of, but the lesson this week was that not all good things are great things.  Our world has so many good choices, so many things that we can do to help and serve, so many worthy causes.  Not all of them are for all of us.  We must do what only we can do, and let others do what we cannot.   Saying no to something means I can do something else that I'm totally equipped for and I can totally rock it!  That is much better than doing something halfway good that somebody else would have done entirely better.

  This makes me think of Sunday school class.  I signed up to teach last year because we needed teachers.  I didn't realize that it also meant coming up with our own Story Telling lessons for the verse.  I thought that it would be pre-planned.   I must say that I was pretty terrible at it, I struggled with it weekly, and my lessons were OK but I knew they could have been much better. Most of the time I searched online for a lesson plan that fit the bible verse.   This year I am the assistant, I get to sit with the kiddos and help them not fidget so much, talk with them while they color and basically just be spontaneous sharing the love of Jesus while somebody else teaches the lesson.  My replacement is a great teacher, her lessons are wonderful and she actually has the gift of teaching.  I can hang and talk and I love being around kids, but lesson planning.... so not my skill and that is OK because someone else does have that skill.  

Next Lesson: I like to fix things and I hate conflict.  The moment conflict starts to arise I feel very panicked and fearful and try my best to smooth it over and make in vanish.   The question is, am I trying to fix things that need to be broken?  Things that need to be fixed by someone else so that they can learn and grow?   I'm so quick to jump but a lot of times it's to prevent my own discomfort of sitting and observing a mess.  Who wants to sit and stare at a broken glass on the floor when they are could just quickly  sweep it up.  Except, maybe I don't have the proper equipment to clean up and I end up cutting my finger when if I would have looked behind me there was someone standing with a broom and dustpan ready to do the job properly.
( I literally just watched this happen at my kids school in the hallway.  This woman started frantically grabbing pieces of glass and cut her finger all while someone else was getting the broom and dustpan.  So then she was bleeding everywhere and in need of band-aid, a simple mess made into a bigger mess.)    Patience.

So I'm still learning, but overall I'm getting the message that it's not about me.   People feel things, I can sit with them and share that, we need to know we aren't alone in our troubles  but I am not supposed to fix them.   They were never asking to be fixed, just to be listened to and loved.   I think that maybe mercy is mostly overwhelming when we think we have to hold on to others emotions and trouble until they are fixed.   That is not the job for humans, even therapist only hold your troubles long enough for your session and then it's up to you to the individual to go about the fixing.  Of course my own personal belief is that Jesus does the fixing, but we have to ask Him to and we have to want to be fixed.  

 I have been learning a lot on my journey and seeking His voice this whole time.   It's been amazing what has been revealed to me and I look forward to learning and growing more.

"if it is to encourage, then give encouragement; if it is giving, then give generously; if it is to lead,[a]do it diligently; if it is to show mercy, do it cheerfully." -Romans 12:8
Rember, you cannot do things cheerfully if you haven't first filled yourself full with cheer.

The Weight of Mercy? Part 1

this was written several weeks ago and has been sitting in my draft folder as I explore this deeper.  Part 2 coming soon
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"My Yolk is easy and my burden is light."

If that is true then I am doing it wrong.  I have been born with the gift of mercy and it seems the closer I grow to Jesus the more I'm feeling the weight of it.   I looked for some books or articles on how to deal with this spiritual gift but most of what I found was "mercy is so great! woo hoo!"  That was not what I was looking for.  I found secular views of this gift, they tend to call it empathy and being an empath means you feel the pain and emotion of others.  They suggest shutting people out and not embracing the gift but rather sheltering yourself from it.   This doesn't feel right either.  If you are given a gift it seems a shame not to use it.  Why are we here on this earth if not to love and give?

I've been searching the Word and praying for a way to be helpful but not so affected.  See, when I walk in a room I can feel the emotional energy of everyone, and people are drawn to me like magnets to share their worries and uncertainties.  I am drawn to them too, drawn to sit and to listen, drawn to pray.  What I think I haven't been doing is releasing it after I am done.  If the burden is supposed to be light then perhaps I am holding too much of it on my own.   I also used to think of that verse as "My burden is light (the light of Jesus)" that divine spark can be a burden to those who glow,  but now I'm thinking I had it wrong.

Why isn't anyone one writing and talking about this?  I surely cannot be the only one who feels knots in the stomach, headaches, stress, anxiety, and can sometimes actually take on the symptoms of those I am caring for.
   One  blog I read said if your friend is in a well you shouldn't climb down in the well with them, you should get a ladder and tell them to climb out.  See, something in me is saying to climb down there and just sit with them. To assure them that they are not alone.  Be Jesus for a minute, an hour, and just sit with those who need to be healed.

I had a thought the other day about how Jesus must have felt.  If I feel like a mercy magnet then I can't even imagine what He felt like.  All day people came to him and searched him out, thousands of hurting broken people, and I guarantee he felt every single pain and emotion that they were soaked in.  So, if I can't find a recently published article I will look to Jesus and see how he dealt with it all, and it seems he didn't hold it.  He went in solitude and prayed.  His disciples of course were all like "Jesus, hey Jesus, you gotta bunch of people who are waiting to see you, what are you doing all by yourself, come on dude! They need you!"   (Those disciples wore sandals so I'm sure they said "dude")

Even Jesus knew he couldn't do it on his own, he couldn't take all that pain and brokeness without help from the Father.  I bet he used that time to release it to God and let it go.   

I have been hesitant to write about this or even speak about it for fear that people will read this and want to avoid bothering me.  See, I love this gift, although it can be overwhelming, I wouldn't trade it for another one.   This is a gift that has enabled me to connect to my husband, my children, and many others.  I love connection.

*After writing about this I went to a crisis responder training and heard about compassion fatigue... more on that in a future post.  Seek and you shall find

MacGyver Goes To Support Group

After my discovery of the fact that actually I am stressed and not doing fantastic I have decided to take yet another step toward taking care of myself.  See, I read that parenting a child with ASD can lead to the parent having PTSD.  Like a soldier who went to Iraq, I could develop post traumatic stress disorder?  It was hard to believe, but then again, when you are constantly diffusing "bombs" in your family and on the lookout for the next possible explosion then maybe in some ways it is the same.  It does feel like life and death when you are in the middle of it.  For some parents, it really is life and death.  I feel like I have it pretty easy, but at the same time, it can be so hard.   I love my kids, so so much, but I decided it was time to try out the parent support group for parents with kids on the spectrum.

Last year I went to a parent support group at school a few times when I was feeling particularly frazzled.  It was clear quickly that while the people were lovely and kind, they just had no idea what I was going through.  There problems were real and true, but so different that it just made me feel more alone.   I stopped going and went back to husband,  prayer, and my bible study as my support.  My bible study group is amazing, they are the best listeners and so encouraging.  We laugh together, cry together, and best of all, pray together.   When we go on breaks I miss it, and when it's Thursday morning I put everything aside to be there. I also recognize that I needed more time to talk about parenting things and I really need people with children like mine who had been there, or were there currently, and maybe even some who were just beginning that I could help.  

Last night I went to my first meeting, and of course I can't give details but I will say that it felt so right.  They served me herbal tea and when I said how I felt they nodded along as if I was telling their own story.  When they did tell their stories it was so clear that I wasn't alone, and that there are beautiful amazing things about our children too, and we can celebrate those and laugh about the hard stuff and release it.  

Releasing things is the answer, to be there in the worst moments for my children, and then to release it when it's over.  Breath in the new and enjoy the moment I am in when I am in those good moments.  There are so many good moments that can go unseen if I'm still holding the anxiety of the last explosion.  If the bomb has been diffused then it's time to smile at the sunshine and breath deep.  

Notice MacGyver, he isn't holding on to that stress!

This group is going to do me lots of good.  I never felt I really needed it this much before but it's clear that the toxins were building and it's time to have a place outside my home to help me let them go.