When tornadoes hit

My first clue that something happened was a facebook status that said “praying for Oklahoma”.  My heart and mind jumped to natural and man-made disasters – which would it be this time?  I quickly popped over to my favorite online news source and there it was.  Devastating tornadoes that had wreaked havoc and changed families, schools and communities forever.  Unlike the recent tragedies at Sandy Hooks Elementary School and the Boston marathon, this one fell under the category of “act of God” and not of man.

 I’ve been a mom for 25 plus years.  Yet when these kinds of things happen, I still wonder and ponder, “what and how much do I tell my children?”  We are well past the “just protect them from the bad news” phase of life.  Honestly, that was too much of my modus operandi as a younger, less mature mom.  I didn’t – and still don’t, by the way – know how to fully process and deal with these kinds of things, so how in the world can I help my children do so?  Regularly these days, our ten year old daughter picks up the newspaper, sees a compelling picture and asks, “what is this about?” There are things going on in this world that I’d rather not discuss with a ten year old.  But sometimes I don’t have much of a choice. 

 All children have very active imaginations and come in and out of developmental stages of fear.  At some point, they all realize that this life and place that we live is not entirely safe.  People die, including parents, bad things happen and life is just like that.  Children who have lived through trauma have a heightened sense of anxiety around such losses and the grief side of life.  They have anecdotal evidence in their very own lives that bad things do happen.  And when the event in question is deemed “an act of God”, simple, pithy religious answers won’t cut it. 

 So as much as I’d like to reassure and promise my children that this kind of thing would never happen to our family, such a response would be delusional and dishonest.  Truth is that shortly before we moved into our current home 21 plus years ago, a tornado flattened the Walmart less than a mile away.   We are not immune from the suffering and sadness of this world. 

 With my kids, I am moving from being reactive in the face of disaster to being more pre-emptive in dealing with the difficult side of life.  As parents, it is our job to address, in age appropriate ways, the sorrowful and difficult side of life with our children.  That doesn’t mean that we share with them every awful and horrendous thing going on in our world.  And sometimes they will catch wind of things before we are able to proactively talk to them.  Then we do our best to receive their questions and thoughts and help them through the uncertainties. 

 This morning, I decided to be the one to tell our girls about the Oklahoma tornadoes (chances are very high that they would hear of it in school today) and then answer their questions from there. They weren’t easy questions and I struggled internally with answers.  The truth is I don’t have any “wrap it up in a bow” kind of explanations for this kind of thing.   After a short exchange, I told the girls that I’d like to pray out loud as we drove to school.  After the warning by our rational thinker child to please not close my eyes while praying, I said something to the effect of , “Dear God, please be with the people in Oklahoma who have lost family, friends and homes.  Please send people and resources to help them in this time of great loss and grief.  If there is any way that you desire for us to respond, please show us how.  Amen.” 

 As I drove back home after dropping them at school and heard a brief news report on the Oklahoma devastation, I shed tears.  Just sorrowful tears – not mixed with anger and confusion like when the tragedies are man made, though I certainly would get any “mad at God” tears others may have.  When I returned home, I picked up the newspaper, and skimmed through it as usual.  Because of the graphic picture on the front page – see below – I did decide to recycle it right away so that our girls would not see it, at least not on their kitchen table.  We don’t watch tv news in our home.  God of mystery, whose ways are not my ways, I hope that as a mom, I was faithful on this day.  Amen.

 

We never know the back story

Public encounters with strangers or people we don’t know well can be fraught with misunderstanding and judgments. The reality is that each person in any encounter comes to that moment with a story, a history – it may be full of pain and suffering. We just don’t know.

My friend’s facebook status caught my eye and it pierced my heart. She had been to our local grocery store. Sometimes she walks with a cane – the rheumatoid arthritis pain is just too much to bear. A stranger yelled to her “why are you using a cane – you are too young for that”. It stung. She had been judged right there in the produce aisle.

Going to the library is one of life’s greatest joys for this bibliophile mom and her two daughters. It was a beautiful sunny day. The girls bounded from the car with excitement. My youngest tossed back over her shoulder, “Mom can you grab my bag?”. That’s how we cart out the big stacks of books that we mine from the shelves. I picked up the bag and the stranger said, “NOOOOOOO, she needs to learn to do things herself.” In the past that would have stung and my defensive self would have at least thought – “do you have any idea how hard I have worked to get this child to trust and attach to me. What is the big flipping deal about getting that bag for her?” Thankfully on that day I said, “Is that your perspective? I disagree, this time.” We are working on independence, but it is a careful dance. I was at peace with my choice to help on that day.

Victoria is a beautiful 3^rd grade girl. Being a reading buddy group leader with 6 children in her class is one of my life’s greatest joys. Before the experience of raising children with trauma, I would have had some very strong thoughts and opinions on the fountain of lies that bubbled from this child’s mouth and heart. Knowing what I know now, my response was, “I wonder what kind of trauma is going on in her home?” I don’t know the answer to that question, but I do know that mid-year Victoria told me one of the only reliable things she ever spoke to me – her grandmother had come down from Chicago and soon the two of them were leaving together and heading north. Leaving her mom, who despite what was happening, she loved and idolized. Settling in with Grandma in a cold and distant place. She hoped to be back by 4^th grade. I doubt that is how this story will unfold.

The lesson for me is to offer grace and mercy to those that cross my path. I wonder what led that lady to yell hurtful words to my friend in the grocery store? She certainly wasn’t mindful of the backstories of others. And the library lady. What pain led her to interject herself into my family on that day? And precious Victoria – I bet my heart would break over the details of her backstory. We just never know.

 

Dignity and dementia

When I let myself imagine life possibilities that strike fear in my soul, living with dementia or Alzheimer’s is high on the list. There is something terrifying about imagining the loss of my faculties, especially during the stage when I would realize that something wasn’t quite right but not be able to fully identify, slow or stop it. About a year or so ago, I made a pact with a dear friend that if one of us were ever in a coma or suffering from dementia, we would see to it that any long dark chin hairs on the other were plucked regularly. She and I both have no sister in this world, so we will fill in that family gap if either of us goes down one of these paths. It is a matter of dignity.

Last fall, I read a powerful book on the topic of early onset Alzheimer’s with a group of friends. Still Alice by Lisa Genova is powerful and poignant as it presents the perspective of the sufferer and the people in the close and far out spheres of the one diagnosed with this brutal disease. No one initially wanted to publish this fictional tale, so she self published it and sold it out of the trunk of her car – some things are just too painful to read, the professionals thought. But it has resonated deeply with caretakers, families and beyond. It is a multi-awarded book – some stories just must be told. This book schooled me in the complexities and varied perspectives of so many who are touched by this deadly killer. Still Alice offers a look into the hope and redemption in the lives touched by such a plague.

This week, I had another lesson in how to respond to people who are living with this silent thief. I was spending the morning among close friends and fellow life journeyers. We are a fairly diverse group – with differences in age, stage, income level and race. We are bound together as women, God lovers and ones who know the power and joy of being still and silent in the midst of our busy lives. We share our stories in word and sometimes by just showing up.

There is one beautiful lady in our midst who I assume is somewhere in this struggle for her mind and battle for presence among those she loves. I know her past only by reputation and the stories of others. She is well loved and respected – then and now. Her husband brings her to this special group every month. He holds her arm as she kind of shuffles up to the door and then turns to leave as she makes her way to a close by seat. At our recent Christmas gathering, her closest friends let her share a special piece of her heart as they helped her read out loud beautiful poetry penned in days gone by. We each received a precious gift of a booklet filled with her poetry. Her countenance shining brightly, she imparted to the listeners a little taste of heaven.

Yesterday, she sat down right next to me, and tears leaked out of my eyes. It was her birthday, so we sang happy birthday to her. She smiled brightly. I put my arm around her and soaked in the beauty of the moment. In this place, she is treated with dignity and honor. She is loved. Even as precious pieces of self slip away from her, she still has so much to teach and offer to others. I am blessed to know her.

One day post Bostonbomb

It is always tricky and confusing for me to get on facebook after a national or international disaster. The Newtown school shootings and now the bombings at the Boston Marathon are happenings that slow or stop the heart of most in the USA as well as a high level of international attention all at once. Big feelings and grief are expressed on some level. During events like this that don’t lend themselves to facebook status updates there is a tension and challenge in my mind and heart. Is there an appropriate mourning period before I say something humorous or cute? Or is it best to just go right on with life and somewhat mindless facebook statuses?

Our most emotionally expressive son texted me these words at 3:34pm yesterday: “You watching this? Oh my goodness….” My soul did not know what had happened, but I knew something that would be on the national stage had indeed happened. Our girls were just coming home from school so turning on the tv was not an option. I texted back and as my son described the news with minimal words, I got a vivid mental picture. We have been here before.

My first thoughts jumped around a bit but included: 1) Prayers sent up for any injured or dead and all the people who love them. 2) A compassion for the terror of those in the vicinity and a realization that their lives are changed forever. PTSD will have spread its’ grip a little further on this day. 3) We here in the USA are certainly entering the pain and suffering of the world on a more regular basis. In war torn or poverty stricken countries, the regularity of such atrocities is common. Our long time perceived shielding from such suffering wasn’t good for our souls, but these experiences certainly are sad and devastating. 4) Where is my dear friend Margie and her family – they are supposed to be in Raleigh. I hope she got here. I bet she is reeling right now. 5) Kyle and Lauren – a sweet young couple and good friends of our oldest son – are they ok? Are their friends ok? 6). My friend who is to arrive in 30 minutes with her sweet daughter. She is so grief stricken by the recent loss of her almost full term baby – should I mention this when she shows up at my door? My answer was no, but she already knew when she got here. 7) This is really going to sink deeply into the hearts of our friends Hope and Chris who are both running enthusiasts. This will be extra painful for them.

“Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good”. Romans 12:21

So my response on this day to this tragedy was:

1) Get up, get our girls ready for school. Request an extra long hug from each and receive it with gratitude. Shop for healthy food and cook it for myself and my family.

2) Go by Target to check out the flower girl shoes possibilities – our nephew is marrying in 46 days. Be overjoyed when I found a long sought after pair of white biking shorts in the size of my daughters. You see, in our family, a flower girl must be able to turn a cartwheel – it is a necessity and they are too old to have their underwear show when they do it.

3) Be excited that at the 2^nd Target store, there was a 2^nd pair of white bike shorts size M. At our house, two things that meet a real desire make for a lot more peace than one thing that is desired by two girls.

4) Call my mother in law and sister in law. They are highly involved in the care of their sister/aunt who is awaiting news of a possible cancer recurrence. The last several months have been grueling for this beloved aunt and those who love her and care for her.

5) Look at the wedding registry of my precious nephew and his fiancé. Notice that the luggage that they are hoping for hasn’t been purchased. Ask if this is still desired and get a response that they would be thrilled to use this for their upcoming honeymoon.

6) Take a nap, because the emotional strain of the past several days was catching up to me. Be very grateful for a bed and pillow and a beautiful home.

7) Turn on NPR, be reminded that this marathon is an international affair and listen to the perspectives of people who have lived in Israel, Spain and Russia. Take to heart that these people are very familiar with terrorism and they live each day with more purpose and joy and hope in the midst of such places.

8) Recall to mind two special law enforcement agents that I have watched grow up and marry. Pray for all first responders and ask God to grant them strength, love and perseverance in their work.

9) Hope that investigators will be deliberate and careful and not repeat the ruining of a man’s life, Richard Jewell, like after the Atlanta Olympics bombing.

It is now 4:30 and time to do homework, play and then get dinner onto the table. We look forward to welcoming husband/Daddy home from an overnight trip. This was my response.

Two faces of shame

“A fact or circumstance bringing disgrace or regret” so says dictionary.com as the #4 definition for shame. This 5 letter word is a secret, hidden fire that burns deep within many a heart. It is often hidden under layers and layers of pain, coping mechanisms, and it silently and stealthily robs our joy and rightful place as beloved children of God. Its’ greatest ally is secrecy. It is most potently defeated by vulnerably sharing our shame dwelling stories with fellow life journeyers we know to be utterly trustworthy.

I personally know a thing or two about this silent thief. As a child, the dominant message I heard in church was one of right and wrong, with a heavy dose of instruction on how to behave in a way to avoid the flames of hell. This message seared my tender heart and contributed to making me a person full of fear and unacquainted with true grace – as the shame definition says, I lived in a state of dis-grace. I am grateful that this has not led me to reject God and faith, but I understand those who go down that road. Gratefully, through time spent in valleys of pain mixed with the hard work of climbing mountains of healing, I am getting to know a gentler Christianity that calls deeply to my hungry soul. The path to here has had many twists and turns and unexpected stops. Grace filled Bible teachers, life giving authors and books, a husband and true friends willing to share and receive deep hurt and vulnerability, psychotherapy, yoga practice, times of soul filling silence with fellow journeyers, time spent in God’s beautiful creation, forgiveness of myself and others and being thrown into a sink or swim situation in the world of therapeutic parenting: these are high on the list of places where God has shown up and been healer.

Recently I spent several hours with a beautiful friend of 15+ years. Due to earthquake type circumstances in each of our lives, we don’t get to see each other very often these days. I am not a big fan of the term, “divine appointment”, but I can’t deny that this particular morning was a holy ground time. I unexpectedly showed up at her door with the intent to just drop off a birthday gift and quickly head home to a mountain of tasks waiting for me. The doorbell woke her from sleep yet she graciously invited me into her cozy, well-loved home. This friend has traveled a rough road. Chronic physical pain, a rip your heart out divorce, judgment from a pharisaical crowd, life as a single mom – just to name a few of the recent twists and turns in her life. She has a magnetic personality and is beautiful through and through – in both the internal and external ways. In our heart to heart conversation, her words shed light on the person I used to project to the world and words of grace were imparted about who I am now becoming. She doesn’t know a lot of specifics about my last 8 year journey, but she has a heart that KNOWS others. We were real and vulnerable as we caught each other up on our lives, challenges and joys.

As we were laying open our lives before one another, I sensed and spoke that there seemed to be something deep down in her soul that did not believe she is a beloved and precious child of God. She took a deep breath, the tears began to flow and then she told me the story of having an abortion when she was in college. She is the second close friend to recently share this same story – the incredible pain and suffering in their words and on their faces wrecked me. The deepest source of the pain seems to be in the shame of having such a dark secret with no one to walk alongside and bear the burden. This hidden wound has built up shame, and the kinds of churches that both of these friends are acquainted with are not places to receive grace on this matter. God forgive us and make us your grace bearers.

As I look inward to the shame bearers in my life, they too have festered in the dark, hidden places of life and flow from a place of doubt in my rightful place as beloved by God. But my “go to” armor looks different than that of my precious friends who have felt less than and not good enough as a result of their secrets. Same shame, different response. My shame shield has been much more about building up a wall of pride, arrogance, and self righteousness while trying to make myself and others fit into a legalistic system. I was a Pharisee looking down on things from the moral high ground. The list of boxes I have tried out is long – theological correctness, political affiliation, correct behavior in living, dietary habits, economic systems – you get the point. If I could set up a system where I am “in” and “right”, then anything outside of my box could be viewed as wrong and other. This led to a glittering but false image that I projected to the world. My heart was full of judgment toward others. I lived in a shameful place of great frustration as my inside longings and outside life didn’t match. God forgive me and grant grace to and through me.

As I get more comfortable with the gray of life and the mystery of God, I don’t feel pressure to have all the answers. Healing as well as a joyful pursuit of true abundant life flourishes. My desire is to be a person that can receive with grace and mercy the dark secrets of others, walk alongside without judgment or trying to save or fix , and points them to God as ultimate healer. I want to be a journeyer who can share my own shame and secrets with trustworthy fellow sojourners, embracing Jesus’ words, “you will know the truth and the truth will set you free”. I want to live life to the fullest.

Two books that I highly recommend on the matter of shame and the power of vulnerability to overcome it are: 1) Daring Greatly by Brene Brown if you are interested in compassionately communicated research on the topic. She also has a tender you tube video on same topic and 2) Carry On, Warrior ; Thoughts on Life Unarmed by the wildly popular momastery.com blogger Glennon Doyle Melton if you want a whole hearted, passionate page turner about a life lived in this manner.

We must first be honest with ourselves, God and then with others to get intimately acquainted with the shame that resides within. It takes courage. It will hurt. I leave you with a wish based on Glennon Melton’s writing: Life lived together is brutiful – a mixture of brutal and beautiful. Let’s walk side by side along this brutiful journey. When we do, the power of shame will be destroyed.

Facebook, smart phones and a Lenten lesson

“The fact or condition of being addicted to a particular substance, thing or activity” – so says the dictionary on the topic of addiction. In recent months, I began to notice some life patterns that were beginning to feel an awful lot like unhealthy dependency. They weren’t the kind that require a daily meeting, but nonetheless were working a level of distraction and destruction in my life.

I grew up Baptist. Lent and the practice of “giving up something” were foreign to me until more recent years. After a short stint in the Anglican church and a settling into a Methodist community, Lent more fully entered into my consciousness. This year, I threw about 4 ideas up against the Lenten wall, and one in particular stuck. The commitment was to check Facebook only once a day – down from a level that on some days felt utterly compulsive. Lessons abounded during the 40 days. Here are just a few:

• Owning an iPhone is dangerous for me. There are apps that make life highly convenient – google maps, yelp, to do lists, npr podcasts and an ever available camera sometimes enrich life. Facebook and email access on same device are a huge distraction and can easily tip over into compulsion.

• Facebook has a connecting role in life, but checking it once a day is sufficient. During Lent, I had a genuine, heartfelt interaction with a college friend that I haven’t seen in 25+ years. I learned that her husband had died after battling ALS. Sincere condolences were offered, her amazing faith and spirit were shared – all on facebook chat. Really.

• Limiting my facebook access leads to a significant increase of peace and presence in daily living. Less time is wasted on facebook bunny trails and black holes

• I can feel like the “late to the party” girl when interacting, but 24 hours after a post is not too late to join in a conversation. My true friends are willing to engage at a slower pace.

• Email access on the smart phone is the next frontier. If I start slipping into old patterns, there are options. I can take facebook and mail off of my phone – then there is no temptation to check anything, except an incoming text, while I am driving. Or if I really can’t get a grip, the flip phone is still an option. Putting the phone into the glove compartment or the trunk when I get into the car has a lot of value.

• I have two sets of eyes watching me regularly interact with my phone in the car. If I want to teach them about the dangers of texting and driving, I’d better stop picking up that phone while in the car.

• In a discussion with one of our two 20 something smart phoneless sons, he expressed a deep sadness over the fact that as he rides public transportation, 80% of the people have their heads bowed – not in prayer or meditation, but bowing over their smart phones. That is deeply tragic on so many levels. We are missing the incredible gift of conversation with strangers on a bus, or in a line or in our families. We need to lift up our heads and be with the people around us.

• During this “facebook fast”, my creativity and ability to be present increased exponentially. I have blog post ideas galore and I have enjoyed my husband and children more fully.

So overall, the lesson was that if I don’t thoughtfully manage this piece of technology, it is going to control my behavior on some level. Do I really want a rectangular computer that fits into my pocket or purse running my life? My Lenten answer is “no”. Check in with me in a few months and ask me how I’m doing. I am going to need some accountability and support.

The jewel of trauma

I have fought against and struggled with the problem of suffering in the world for much of my life. I’ve read books, listened to sermons, and engaged others in conversation on the topic. There are no easy answers to the questions.

Our family moves forward these days with lots of professional assistance. Two critical teachers/life assistants are a family therapist who helps us as parents and my own personal therapist who facilitates my journey to become a healthier wife/mom/daughter/friend/community member/self. About a year ago, close in proximity, each of these important people gently delivered the same message to my ears. I was bemoaning the early relational trauma that our daughters experienced before coming into our family. One responded “oh no, it is the jewel of trauma” and the other said, “trauma formed them”. My immediate reaction was a heart and soul rebellion against this message, yet I have spent about a year letting it simmer inside, trying to wrap my head around it. This Holy week, a series of events have led to a greater surrender and peace with this viewpoint.

You see, I am almost ready to surrender to this idea when it comes to adults. I see the reality of this beautiful jewel formed through suffering in the lives, stories and faces of those I know and read and love. People who have known great loss and surrendered to this brutal teacher offer a perspective, depth and authentic walk through life that is magnetic. They radiate a haunting beauty. We want what they have. Several quotes from a variety of sources have recently fallen before my eyes and capture the jewel of trauma thought:

“It’s unfortunate, and I really wish I wouldn’t have to say this, but I really like human beings who have suffered. They’re kinder.” Emma Thompson

“If you had not suffered as you have, there would be no depth to you as a human being, no humility, no compassion.” Eckhart Tolle

“A deep distress hath humanized my soul.” W. Wordworth

“Living means changing and changing requires that we lose one thing before we gain something else.” Jerry Sittser in A Grace Disguised

“Whenever the house of cards we’ve so carefully built comes tumbling down (marriage or relationship break-up, loss of job, health, child, financial crisis), God’s spirit that resides within us is able to show us a greater perspective.” Paul D’Arcy

I embrace this perspective almost whole-heartedly.

But my more recent wrestling matches with God have been over the topic of victims of trauma who are children. Occasionally I argue on behalf of my own children, but more often as a response to the children of the world who reside in some of the darkest places imaginable – brothels, abusive homes, homeless on the streets, uncaring orphanages and the list could go on and on. Is this trauma truly a jewel in their lives?

I’m pretty sure that God does not want us to make complete peace with this tension. Going “there” often leads us to more actively and accurately be the hands and feet of God in this world. Despite the ongoing struggle, there is an internal surrender and faith that is increasing on this matter. What is true for adults must be exponentially true for children. Jesus said it this way: “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.” As I endeavor to make any sense out of this problem of pain and suffering, God’s still small voice whispers, “I understand. My heart is: Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, Silent Saturday and ultimately Easter morning.”

My personal prayer this week mimics words of Jesus spoken from the cross: “Into your hands, I commit my spirit”. A prayer for myself as well as all those children in this world whose lives and stories overwhelm me: “with open heart and hands, into your hands, I commit their spirits. Show me the holy work you have for me on this day.” Amen.

The lie – two portraits

Looking back at the mom I was twenty years ago vs the mom of today elicits various emotions – sometimes I smile, shake my head and get a kick out of the younger me and other times I feel regret and sadness over “what might have been”. I imagine that twenty years from now, I will do likewise about this season of parenting.

A scene from 20ish years ago: It was a time of internal naiveté and unrealistic expectations for my children. The memory is crystal clear of the very first time I knew for certain that our first-born child lied to me. I was crushed and devastated. Our neighbors had an old tree house that they allowed our boys to explore. We received a phone call – things had been broken and destroyed – throwing things from way up high is quite a temptation for a little guy and his friend. Inquisitions ensued – lies were told – mom couldn’t deny the facts. More prone to legalistic parenting -this lying issue was one of the ten commandments for goodness sake – the reaction was regrettable.

I don’t recall the exact response, but I am quite certain it was some combination of shaming, punishment and mom’s sermon # ____. What child, knowing that was on the horizon, wouldn’t give lying their best shot? My crazy fear that we were raising a pathological liar kicked into full gear and led to an unleashing of a series of harmful and relationship damaging words. If I had known more about typical child development and been more honest about my own occasional lying tongue and what situations triggered that, it would have been helpful. But I wasn’t “there” yet.

A scene from last week: after reading enough experts, understanding that traumatized children often have a hair trigger fight or flight response and being convinced that lying in my children is at the foundation a fear response, this scene played out. It was over a simple hygiene issue. The question: have you brushed your hair? – the answer yes. The mom sense activated and knew this was not the case. The big old knot in the skewed pony tail was a dead giveaway. I know from experience that if I “call her out” in that moment, we are going to have an escalating situation. My old legalistic fear was slightly triggered, yet thankfully I remembered to take a few deep breaths, send my daughter to locate the brush and we reconnected in a few minutes. At that time, we then had a conversation about how important it is to tell the truth so that we can trust each other and keep our relationship healthy and strong; I assured her that she would not have been “in trouble” if she had told me no, the hair wasn’t brushed; and the importance of pausing before answering such questions was discussed. Sometimes we tell a lie before we even know what has come out of our mouth – a type of survival skill for some. Children of alcoholics are a case in point on this matter.

At the end of this interaction, my daughter said, “some moms aren’t like that”, expressing that big trouble is often around the corner for those who haven’t brushed their hair (and admit it) or choose to lie about a myriad of everyday mom requests. When I asked her how she knew that, she replied, “I don’t know their names, but I’ve seen them.” What she does, on some level, but doesn’t fully know is that her own mom used to be and can still be among that crowd. My hope is that this interaction put one more drop in the trust bucket of our relationship. It seems that a more gentle and grace filled conversation went a lot further in relationship building than the old shaming, punishment, sermon route. We have come a long way but still have a ways to go, together.

Note: for anyone who wants to explore more fully lying as a fear response, I highly recommend The Great Behavior Breakdown by Bryan Post. It tackles lying plus 26 other problematic behaviors families face.

Attachment style, a kick in the gut and redemption

I studied psychology in college and remember a few vague references to the subject of attachment. I birthed 3 sons and didn’t think much, if at all, about this topic. I wasn’t aware of my own attachment style or the fact that this was affecting mother/infant interactions. Blissful ignorance was the state of the day.

Most anyone who has adopted children hears about attachment and how important it is to the parent/child bond. There is always catch up work to do in this area whether one adopts a newborn or a 12 year old. One of my favorite “adoptive parent manuals” is called The Connected Child by Dr. Karyn Purvis. I read it pre-adoption and have probably read it 4 times since. This past weekend I got to attend a conference called Empowered to Connect – I HIGHLY recommend this for anyone pre, post or connected to adoption or foster care in any way. Dr. Purvis, who has devoted her life and a great deal of neuroscience research to help heal families that include adopted or foster children, was the keynote speaker. Her Trust Based Relational Intervention, TBRI, method has brought hope and healing to so many families. Now onto my blog title and a few things I experienced over the weekend:

Attachment style: we ALL have one. We did not choose it but it is critical to how we interact with others, especially in close relationship. We do not get to decide upon attachment style a, b, c or d – it was passed to us from our parents. We pass ours onto our children. The healthy place to be is in the secure attachment range. But many of us – I heard 50% this weekend – are in the avoidant, ambivalent or disorganized attachment style categories. There is no shame in this, though I will admit I have felt some. An overwhelming percentage of adoptive parents fall into the avoidant attachment range. It was also shared that 90% of NGO, non-governmental organization, aid workers have this type of attachment style. The places we live, work and travel in life are affected by our attachment orientation.

Kick in the gut: In the past several years as I’ve pursued an education in parenting our children and understanding myself, I realize that I indeed have some attachment challenges. Another outstanding book, Attachments: why you love, feel and act the way you do, by Clinton and Sibcy helped me pick out my own style. It helped me identify the styles of several of my children. We aren’t all hanging out in the secure place. I definitely contribute/d to the attachment style of my children – whether I know/ew it or not, it happens/ed. This was addressed and talked about with compassion at the TBRI conference.

Redemption: I really don’t think I would get out of bed in the morning if I didn’t know of God’s grace and redemption. My favorite books/movies/stories/blogs always involve the redemption of the broken human – that would be all of us. And here is the redemptive message on attachment. We aren’t stuck wherever we may be. There is something called “earned secure” attachment. We can change. Our brokenness in this area can be redeemed. I have experienced and witnessed this phenomenon. As Dr. Purvis said there is always hope, but parenting a child from a hard place may cost us everything. It is HARD work – work on ourselves first and foremost and then with our children. But I am one who can attest to the truth that this journey is worth giving our everything. Jesus said it like this, “For whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for me will find it”. A journey of relationship and redemption.

New year present

I am not much of a resolution maker, though my nutrition intake almost always improves in January after a December plummet. This year I desire a different focus. I am going to call it a present of presence that I will give to myself.

I imagine that there have always been distractions in life that make it hard to be fully present to others and truly live in the moments of life. But the ways to distract and interrupt have multiplied in recent years. Smart phones, head phones and a constant bombarding of instant information make the practice of presence a greater challenge. Multi tasking is rampant, revered and rewarded.

A number of years ago, I had a conversation with a beautiful Australian woman who had spent many a year living in a small hut in Africa with orphaned boys. She was receiving an award and had spent several days in a nice hotel. When I asked her what she was enjoying most about her visit to the US, she said, “the hot showers – they are a luxury”.

This year I want to genuinely experience the luxurious hot showers that have become so routine in my life- slow my racing thoughts and really feel the warm water on my skin. When I spend $4 on coffee, I desire to slowly savor the taste rather than gulping it down. At the dinner table, I hope to have more moments of truly tasting the food prepared, sipping the wine and fully engaging in conversation with those I love. This year I am committing to notice when I am talking on the phone with someone and at the same time checking email – or unloading the dishwasher or driving…. How can I truly listen to someone when my mind is split in two or three? And there is growing scientific evidence that all of this multi tasking has some pretty serious long term effects on memory and brain cells. There qare lots of great reasons to slow it all down,

One of the best is that my husband and children certainly know and feel the difference between a totally distracted wife/mom and one who is engaged and attuned to their needs and life. So as I work to be more in the moment, this present is not just for myself but also a gift to those I love most. Hoping for a year of more moments, hours and maybe even days lived out this way. How about you? Any new year desires? I’d love to hear them. To begin again is a gift in itself.