Ways to be Brave

I cannot come up with a great blog post today so I will share this one from way back when.  Brave is a lonely game.


 I  spent three hours sitting on the bleachers the other night watching my daughter play two basket ball games. I am a quiet person and  that group of spectators held no close friends. So I watched the games and also people watched. My monkey mind went into over drive.

"Look at all of the grandparents here. I wonder what that would be like," I thought and the big heavy ache of having no living parents arrived in my solar plexus. I squeezed my eyes to push down the tears and tried to bring my focus back to my beautiful daughter giving her all on the court.

I heard laughing and talking among the spectators and my monkey mind headed into a train wreck of feelings and thoughts of being alone, wishing there was somebody with me, missing my parents and feeling like I didn't belong. For three hours I went back and forth from the monkey mind to my daughter. It was exhausting.

We arrived home to a messy kitchen and two teenagers sprawled watching TV. Immediately I wanted to scream about the mess and homework and TV rules.

But I didn't.

My quest to be brave in 2014 includes being braver in dealing with my emotions. Yelling about the mess wouldn't be about the mess. It would be a clever way of numbing the real angst I felt inside. Those three hours of monkey mind gymnastics left me raw. I made tea and decided to sit and breathe and mostly just give myself some space to honor that big heavy ache.

Thank God I did. As I made my tea, I realized that the mess included dinner for my daughter and I. Spaghetti and meatballs, salad and rolls were prepared by my youngest. I expressed my gratitude and sat down with my tea.

 My eldest walked by and said,"You look kinda depressed."

I looked up and realized all sets of blues were on me. I could have said, "I am fine hon."

But I didn't. I chose brave instead. I told them how I felt at the games and that I was still a little sad.

From there a conversation began about times each of us have felt that totally crappy feeling of 'aloneness' and 'not belonging'.  The big heavy ache dissipated. A memorable family conversation about universal feelings was shared.  The homework got done and the house got picked up. I felt brave.

Blessings,
Virginia

Wednesdays "Whats growing?"

Peonies  are blooming!

A garage makeover has been started.

An abundance of flowers.

A mess.

My gardening nails and my moms diamond ring:

Just as I remember it on her garden loving hand. 


Blessed!

Kahill Gibran's Words On Children

I have been thinking of and praying for each of my children more often than normal. Nothing is wrong. They are all healthy. Yet, they are teenagers and each one is in a space of tremendous growth. My role as parent feels vague. I listen. I love. I pray. I try my best not to worry. I get frustrated and snarky. I try to keep my sense of humor and I love more.

This morning I pulled out The Prophet, by Kahill Gibran and reread for the millionth time his words on children. The last four stanzas spoke deeply to me:

You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent fourth.

The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.

Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;

For even as he loves the arrow that flies so He loves also the bow that is stable.