Failure and Success

My son is struggling in school. I think in the back of my mind I knew this would be a possibility but he's always been considered by his teachers to be a bright child. We've never really had to deal with the effects of his diagnoses in the academic realm. But things change. The inevitable is happening. The struggles we have seen at home for several years are now branching out into school.

I am thankful that his behavior still seems to be on track. His major difficulty, as with many children who share a diagnosis of ADHD, is in focusing on the work at hand, completing assignments, and keeping up with the class. The fact that he has extremely poor auditory processing skills only makes things more difficult. This aspect of his disability makes it very difficult for him to process verbal information at the same speed and accuracy as you and I do. Middle school moves faster than elementary school, and children are often required to work more independently, with more verbal direction. So he's struggling.

Currently he's failing a subject that he's incredibly gifted in. The reasons he's failing have to do with organizational issues--not writing down due dates, forgetting to complete his work, that kind of thing. The kind of thing that I know he'll struggle with for the rest of his life. He doesn't want to have to write things down. He wants to be able to remember and prioritize like everyone else. I can relate to that want...the desire to have everything in me working exactly like everyone else. But as most adults can identify with, at some point or another you begin to realize that we all have our own "issues" that make us unique...whether you have difficulty retaining information or you have a medical condition that requires ongoing treatment, you start to realize that "everyone else" isn't so different from you.

Our son isn't there yet. After an open and honest discussion this morning in which he collapsed into tears, he admitted he's angry with himself and that something needs to change. We've outlined those changes and laid expectations out to help him be more successful. Hopefully he will follow through with little resistance. He wants to succeed, and that's a good thing. I think he also knows, deep down, that sometimes he is the one who stands in the way of his own successes.

Nelson Mandela once said that it is not our darkness that scares us; instead, it is our potential to shine brightly. We are afraid of our own light, our ability for greatness. I believe there is tremendous truth in that statement. How often we shy away from opportunities that would encourage us to shine! How often we set ourselves up for failure, because coping with failure's disappointment is easier than imagining the rippling current success might bring.

What I want to say to my son is what I need to say to myself, and it is this: Don't be afraid of who you are. Your light is unique to you, and a gift from God. If you use your failures wisely, they will lead to your successes. And those bring light not just to you, but to everyone.

What would YOU do?

This has been a stressful few days. First, I contracted some form of a stomach virus which has put me in a cranky space. It's very difficult to be loving and patient when you feel like your body is imploding. Reading the stories about the pain and devastation in Haiti has hit me hard as well. Those images are never far from my mind, and despite my donation of money, I feel helpless and small in this world right now. My mom has been having health difficulties and yesterday received some potential diagnoses, one of which is quite serious. Then I got to get up this morning, achy stomach and all, and go to work with my new boss. The two of us are the only ones working in our school, and this is going to bring about the all-dreaded word: change.

Last night, after speaking with my mom, I lay in bed trying to imagine life without her. I know that eventually that day will more than likely come, and I'll have to find a way to handle it. My anxiety was pretty high. In those moments, I want to be close to those I love. I fought the urge to go snuggle with my daughter, check on my son, track down my husband. Instead, I pulled Gabi close and petted her for awhile. Sleep finally came around one a.m.

This evening I saw an article on AOL news about a journalist who faced severe depression several years ago, to the point he contemplated suicide. On that day, as he made a choice not to end his life, he asked himself, "What would I do if this were the last day of my life?"

This seems to be a popular question. Songs are written about it, books are penned, poems focused on how we would choose to spend our last hours on this planet if we knew the end was near. It seems a basic, simplistic philosophical question, yet still one worth pondering: what would I do if I knew it ended tomorrow? What parts of my life would I be content with and what would I regret?

I know in my gut how I would spend my last day. With my family. What would I do? I have no idea. It doesn't matter. I would kiss my husband and tell him all the things I hold back from sharing. I would hold my son and reassure him that he is perfect in God's eyes--and in mine. I would snuggle my daughter and let her know that I could not love her more if I had given birth to her. And I would kiss my dog and chase her through the yard, playing catch.

I would be content with the fact that I have touched many people's professional lives. I would be proud that I have influenced many young teachers and the way they interact with children. I would reflect fondly on all the children I have taught and have a last, wonderful giggle at all the funny things they have done, and gratitude for what they have taught me.

I would call all of the people I love and tell them so. I would go back to writing poetry and leave a mark for each one, so they have a piece of me written indelibly for them. I would thank them for all of the wonderful moments we spent together and encourage them to spend more, to make more memories. To build love in their hearts and their lives.

I would take a walk through my neighborhood and see--really see--the wonder of God's world around me. I would smell the flowers, lie in the grass, watch the clouds. I would sit in wonder of all the things I tend to pass too quickly.

My regrets? I would have a few. That I haven't been able to give as much of myself to this world as I wish I could. That people still suffer and I can't take it away. That there is so much need and such limited resources. Activism. That would be my regret.

Ironically, here's what I wouldn't regret: I wouldn't regret not having my own birth child. I wouldn't regret having an unusual family, or the house I live in, or the job I have. I wouldn't regret having a messy house or not doing laundry on a daily basis, or not cooking a homemade meal every night. In comparison, those things seem inconsequential.

So, just something to ponder. Sometimes it's good to prioritize all that we have, all that we're given. The things that seem so important that aren't. To focus on who we are, spiritually, versus who we get bogged down being in our daily lives. I am God's child, and He has his finger on my life. Trusting that he knows where we're going is important. Recognizing that I don't have the answers, equally important.

I can't heal my mother, take away the horrific pain in Haiti, solve the economic crisis, or even smooth over transitions at work. Some of it will be scary. Some may be depressing. Sometimes I will cry and be anxious and need to snuggle my dog or kiss my kids or get a reality check from a loved one. But I can be me. And I can bring my gifts to the table every day, to the best of my ability. I can be the best mother, wife, daughter, teacher, person I know how to be. And I can keep learning and growing and trying.

What would--and can--you do?

Help for Haiti

One of my favorite things to dabble in is frugality. I know that sounds strange ("dabble in frugality") but I really enjoy reading tips and tricks about saving money. By nature I'm a penny pincher. I got it from my dad, who was born right after the Great Depression. His parents owned a dairy farm and were extremely frugal...so much so, that when my grandmother passed away ten years ago, she left both her sons a sizeable inheritance. I love challenging myself to spend the least amount at the grocery store; to shop at thrift stores for things that don't need to be new; to teach my children the value of a dollar. We've been fairly successful. We have a small income yet are blessed enough to pay our bills and occasionally take reasonably priced family vacations and enjoy some nice things.

Charity has always been important to me as well. I want my children to grow up learning that money does not multiply when you hold on to it so tightly. My daughter has internalized this message well and is quite generous with her money. My husband and I have both tried to stress the importance of good works--whether it be through money or service--to our children.

Often times when disasters strike, my first response is shock and denial, as though the event is somewhat surreal. Such was my reaction to the earthquake in Haiti earlier this week. I was involved in my own daily routine and took notice, but not enough notice. That embarrasses me. My daughter brought it to my attention later the next evening, telling me there had been an earthquake in Haiti and the Red Cross thought there were "lots of people" who had died.

And this Haiti perched itself on my shoulder.

With my husband out of work currently, our money is tighter than usual. I thought about what I felt comfortable with being able to donate. Then I thought about my kids, who both had been given a tidy sum of cash at Christmas. We held a meeting and agreed that we would all contribute, then we read about different nonprofits who are working in Haiti. Together, we chose Doctors Without Borders to donate our small sum.

I feel guilty that our sum wasn't larger. I wish I was comfortable at this time being able to donate a larger amount. But my heart has been warmed as I have been visiting many of my favorite frugal websites. So many frugal bloggers are making donations to various charities to assist in Haiti. At a time when so many Americans are feeling the economic squeeze, it is amazing that literally thousands are banding together to give whatever they can. Some bloggers are donating a certain amount per comment or link. Some are giving what they would normally spend on entertainment in a month or vowing to eat from their pantry and give up their grocery money. Our personal donation came from money that was saved by eating at home the last few weeks, combined with savvy shopping.

When I was twenty-one, I traveled to the Soviet Union for twelve days. That experience made me realize how incredibly fortunate we are in our country. We have resources and protections and money that provide us with the ability to call luxuries "essentials". I think of the people in Haiti at this moment who are struggling to survive, being dug out of rubble they've been buried in for days. I hope that our donation helps a little bit. But I'm confident that our donation, combined with yours and those of so many others, will make a significant difference.

Growing Older

Over Christmas, I was fortunate enough to be able to visit my parents and brother in another state. My mom and I are very close, and I miss her through the year and look forward to our regular visits. Christmas, summer, and usually spring break are the times we get to see one another. This year, for many reasons, our Christmas visit was much shorter than usual, and seemed to zoom by. This was the first year that we were not with my parents on Christmas Eve--we flew in Christmas night--and my son did not come for the visit. So things were different.

Several years ago, my father's health began declining slowly. He has some good days and some less than good ones, but on his good days, he still has his sarcastic wit that makes me laugh, and he always has the spirit of willingness to do what he can to help me, however I need it. It has been hard to watch the physical decline of a man that I once saw as my protector. My role has changed in our relationship, and most days he is willing to accept help from me when it's needed, even if he would fight others over the same help. He humors me, probably because I see him only a few times a year. And I'm grateful for that.

This visit was especially poignant for me, because my mother is currently ill. She has been sick for two months now and the doctors have a variety of theories but nothing definite. My mom has always been an on-the-go type of person. She's in her late sixties but still runs her own business, is active in her church, and has lots of friends and outside activities. My mom has lived by schedules for my entire life. Her favorite phrase is, "So what's on your schedule today?" I'm sure she had no idea what to do with me as a teenager, when my response was often, "What schedule?" She's extremely organized in what she feels needs to get done each day and sets off to accomplish it. But this visit was different. Being sick as she has been, she was incredibly exhausted and slept much of the time. Her waking time was often uncomfortable, and I felt so helpless in trying to think of ways to make her more comfortable. This trip, instead of asking me what was on my schedule, I heard her saying the following repeatedly: "I'm so sorry I'm not able to keep up."

I guess some people might have the response of, "Yeah! Me too! This sucks!" I can't imagine, though, feeling that way. Instead, I felt helpless and scared. I know my parents are growing older. But much as I feel as a parent, I want to make things better for them. I want to make sure Dad takes his medicines on time, sees the doctors when he needs to and has someone who understands what the doctors are explaining about how condition. I want to help my mom feel better, to be able to eat regularly and sleep regularly and not feel so exhausted and uncomfortable. I want to be able to go to appointments with both of them to keep up on what's going on and make sure their needs are met. The hardest part about leaving them this time was knowing there was no one there to do those things on a regular basis.

I look in the mirror, and at forty, see my own crow's feet and gray hairs. I notice that I'm not as flexible as I was five years ago, that body parts hang a little lower and I'm definitely not passing as "cute" these days. But the funny thing is, I still feel like I'm younger. I don't think of myself as forty. I think of myself as...well, me.

I wonder if my parents think of themselves the same way. If their souls are separate from the bodies that are changing. If their spirits still feel young even if their bodies are experiencing limitations. And I wonder what all of this is going to mean for all of us. Even though things are changing, my parents are still, at their core, the human beings who raised me and I know and love and cherish. Nothing will ever change that. Not only do I appreciate them as Mom and Dad, but as the people who taught me tremendous lessons that I needed to learn, and the good, compassionate, decent people that I would be proud to know under any circumstances. Those characteristics are at their cores.

Finding a way to balance my family responsibilities at home and my family responsibilities over a thousand miles away is tricky. It's going to take some careful reflection and creativity. Time changes everything, and if I've said it once I've said it a million times--I'm not a girl who does well with change. Our society isn't respectful of the elderly. We are dismissive and fail to recognize that these people who are older are also wiser too, and carry our history with them. I don't like seeing my parents growing older, but I am determined to face these changes head on and God help me, to maintain the dignity of these people who love me no matter what.

Ironically, even as she is sick, my mom is worried about me--if I'm worried for her, if I felt like Christmas wasn't as good as it should be, if everything is okay at my house. No matter what, she's my mom. We'll all be okay, because we have each other. Growing older is hard, but it's the price of life experience and wisdom. And Mom and Dad, don't worry about holding my hand...because I'll be holding yours.

Baby, it's cold outside!

I live in a part of the country where weather events are hugely broadcasted. Coming from a more metropolitan area, I used to think the people in this part of the country had no life! Before moving here, murders, rapes and robberies were the primary focus of the news each night. I really thought tornadoes occurred so rapidly that you were pretty much toast if you lived in the midwest. It wasn't until I moved out here that I began to understand that a) not every area of the country has daily or even weekly murders; and b)weather broadcasting is super-big business. Back in my hometown they had come up with this thing called "Super Doppler Radar" that was supposed to narrow in on specific streets to tell you exactly what was going on where. I never really saw the point of that technology in my hometown. True, we would sometimes have severe thunderstorms, but nothing that I would consider life-threatening overall. Every TV station tried to outdo the next with their super doppler stuff. It go so bad that one of the radio stations created a comedy sketch about "Big F**king Doppler"--"We can see Ms. Mabel Kincaid is putting out her laundry at 123 Brewster Avenue...how's the wind today, Ms. Kincaid?" Crazy.

So now I live in the midwest, or more precisely, tornado alley. My first encounter with a tornado warning was spectacular. As the winds picked up and the rain poured down, I was trying to unlock the door but my hands were shaking so badly from fear that I could hardly make the keys work. Both of my kids--then four and two--were with me, as was my husband and our dog. The sirens were blaring and I really, really thought for a moment I was going to die. Of course, we got in, got settled in our safe place (the shower--the most interior room) and waited while my husband listened to the report. Thankfully, the wall cloud (for you people anywhere else in the country, that's the cloud that spins off tornadoes) passed to the south of us without the funnel touching down. Our littlest one fell asleep in the shower despite the commotion. Since then, we've been through a variety of interesting weather experiences, including the tornado that passed right over our house and landed down the street last summer. It was a small one that caused minimal damage, but I heard it when it went over. Too late to gather the kids and to worry. God was watching over everyone--no one was hurt and that's what's important.

Suffice it to say, though, that weather coverage is a big deal here. If there's any POTENTIAL for unusual weather, we hear about it over. and. over. On every channel. Round the clock coverage. It's like watching your very own exciting mystery unfold before your very eyes. "Well, we're getting reports all over the metro that snow is falling! Yes, that's right folks, snow is FALLING. It's on the ground. And you could fall if you leave your home, so experts warn that you be extremely careful should you encounter a snowflake. We're going to go to John Joe out on 36th street...hello, John? Have you encountered the snowflake yet?"

The problem with this kind of reporting is that every little thing gets blown into a natural disaster, and then people don't take it seriously. Two weeks ago, on Christmas Eve, we had a blizzard here. Of all days--Christmas Eve. Fortunately, I finished my shopping by nine a.m., just as it was starting to sleet. I said to my son, "We're not going ANYWHERE today." The half-mile drive home was dangerous enough. But I knew in my gut people would risk it. And they did. A fifty-car (yes, fifty!) pileup on one road. Vehicles abandoned left and right all over the streets. Interstates closed down throughout the state. It was a madhouse. And yes, John Joe the weather reporter was out, measuring the snow in the parking lot and talking about being stranded at the station. This was news worth reporting. If only the news would report THIS, then maybe people would listen when somebody says, "Hey, stay home!"

We are currently in the middle of what they're calling an "arctic freeze". It's seriously cold outside. Our average winter temps are around 40 degrees, and with the wind chill it's easily below zero right now. Some public schools have closed, but not my kids'! I would have much preferred a day snuggled in bed, drinking hot cocoa and making soup instead of schlepping two kids off to school at 7:30 in layers of pants, shirts, socks, outerwear, and all. I even considered keeping them home. Why? Because the "experts" say to stay inside today! Because the roads are "slick and hazardous"! Where did I get this information? From the news, of course.

Well, it's definitely cold outside (and inside too). But the kids made it to school without losing a limb to frostbite or collapsing from hypothermia. I managed to drop them off, go to Starbucks for my coffee, and drop a couple of prescriptions off at the drugstore, all without losing control of my car. Now granted, I wouldn't send my kid walking to school in this weather and I wouldn't encourage people to take a road trip today. But do we really need to shut down whole cities and put the public on panic alert? Because it's cold?

So yeah, baby, it's cold outside. But I'm snug with my coffee, enjoying one of my last days off, watching Gabi sleep on the comforter. I appreciate my meteorologists, especially during tornado season when they save huge numbers of lives every year. But guys, can we lay off the drama a bit? Grab a blanket, a mug of cocoa, and let's all settle down. Who's up for an episode of the Price is Right?

Blessings

Tonight I am snug in my bed, working from my laptop, as my son watches tv with me. My daughter is munching on toast and my dog is desperately trying to catch the crumbs. My husband is adjusting our new tv set in the front room, rejoicing in the fact that I finally got around to purchasing the gift that we've sworn we would buy for the last two years.

I am prone to be a "glass half empty" type of person. I have always struggled with anxiety and depression, and I believe this automatically programs me to look at things from a pessimistic viewpoint. It's what comes naturally to me. Besides, if you already expect the worst, you can't be disappointed, right?

Wrong. One of the biggest life lessons I've learned is that curve balls can be thrown in every direction, in ways that you never imagined. There's no sense in trying to predict the future when you can't. It's impossible.

Today I finished my official work in my interim position, and felt tremendous relief to have that potentially finalized. I say potentially because there is the possibility that there will still not be another person hired to fill that spot when we begin back in January. But for now, things are good. My work looks good, and I'm proud of what I've accomplished.

My son and daughter are both here, ready for Christmas with their dad and me. We've made Christmas cookies and seen lights and gone shopping and wrapped presents and decorated the tree. We've enjoyed each other's company. Gabi is happy and finally flealess, which is a cause for celebration in and of itself.

My family is anxiously awaiting our visit in a few days, and I am so thankful for the opportunity to see them. It will be a time to spend together, building memories and bonding again. My friends are close and healthy. My husband's foot is healing and his mood is good.

Today I went out and did something completely out of character--I purchased a brand new LCD HDTV. A smaller, economical model, but still, a new TV. I worried about the purchase the whole way home and then, after my husband hooked it up, we all rejoiced in a beautiful picture. And I wished my family Merry Christmas, and my husband Happy Birthday, and both of us Happy Anniversary...all of the occasions we have been planning this purchase and never followed through.

My cup is half full, like most people's. But I'm blessed. And I am determined, as I continue on this journey called my life, to recognize the half-full blessing of the glass God has given me more often. I am blessed, and so thankful.

God bless us, every one.

The Christ in Me

Like many people, the holidays are a bittersweet time for me. Some days I am immensely grateful for all that I have, and others I feel overwhelmed and burdened. Today was a day that seemed difficult to feel grateful. I recognized the depression and vowed to pull myself out of it. So, mustering as much excitement as I possibly could, I roused my children and we decorated the tree. Hubby put on his version of christmas music (cue Cartman of South Park trying to sing O Holy Night!) and we hung our ornaments. After, my daughter and I decided to take a ride to look at Christmas lights. I had found a CD of christmas music I purchased last year that hadn't been opened, so we opened it up and sang along as we drove and admired the lights.

We were nearly home when one of my favorites, "Breath of Heaven" recorded by Amy Grant, came on. I'm not a huge fan of Amy Grant by any means, but this particular song strikes me every time I listen to it. The fear, the humility, the need that Mary feels to live up to God's expectation of her is extraordinarily captured in the lyrics of the song. As we listened, my daughter commented, "This is so pretty, Mom."

Tonight, for the first time, I came to understand this song in a new way. Here are a portion of the lyrics (again, so I'm not infringing on copyright, this is from Breath of Heaven recorded by Amy Grant)

I am waiting

In a silent prayer

I am frightened

By the load I bear

In a world as cold as stone

Must I walk this path alone?

As I listened to these words, I began to cry. These words so describe my experiences with my own son. The responsibility that I bear in caring for him, in worrying that I will not be able to fulfill God's desires for him. That I will fail him, and fail God. And in that moment I suddenly realized that we all are carrying a bit of Christ within us. The part that we view as our role in this world, our responsibility to God, is the Christ within us. We can all relate to Mary and her frightening, painful journey.

Do you wonder

As you watch my face

If a wiser one

Should have had my place?

But I offer all I am

For the mercy of your plan.

Help me be strong

Help me be

Help me.

The prayer I have whispered so many nights over the last nine years. Certainly my child is no Christ child. But he IS God's child. And I worry desperately that I will fail him. That I will flounder and fall and come short on God's yardstick.

Mary prayed to God for strength. For hope. She relied on God to hold things together when it got rough. She trusted that He hadn't created this miracle for nothing. That despite the pain and stigma it was bound to cause her, she would be protected, "mother of all mothers". And it occurs to me, if Mary could trust God with her son, why can't I trust Him with mine?

Certainly my son is not the only bit of Christ I carry with me. There are many other things that I nurse inside my heart, that I feel God is guiding if I let Him. Letting someone else take the wheel? Well that's the hard part, isn't it?

Many years ago I attended a Unity church. Every Sunday when it was time to greet our neighbors, we would say, "The Christ in me greets the Christ in you and we work together for the glory of God." Tonight, for the first time, I think I truly, truly understand what that means.

Who or what is your Christ child? And do you trust God enough to lean on Him for strength to bring His plan to fruition, or do you flounder like me? Trust is hard. But in a season of miracles, maybe it's possible.