Wonder of the Season
Hear Ye! Hear Ye! It’s holiday concert time! That means joyful preparation of learning new songs or a new script, choosing holiday outfits, and gathering the family so all can enjoy the upcoming outing. Hopefully, your house will be filled with exuberant singing or lively music as your Little is eagerly, albeit repetitively, practicing new songs. Perhaps you are graced with a preview during dinner. One Little discreetly slinks off the chair under the table, crawls quickly and ninja-like to the adjacent hallway, so she can tiptoe back in slowly with hands covering her eyes while softly singing. 🎶She didn’t see me creep down the stairs to have a peek. She thought that I was tucked up in my bedroom fast asleep. I wasn’t.🎶 Big finish with a deep knee bend, big jump and a landing with arms straight up in ta-da. Dinner and a show, even in your own kitchen, is merry and festive. Maybe your preview comes with rhythmic bouncing on the bed at sleep time. Still sweet and cheerful. The bright face of wonder in a Little fully immersed in her music can illuminate any room… makes the mommy heart happy.
Concert season also means a variety of other Littles singing, dancing, playing instruments, and performing skits. Even during the older kid performances which are mandated by school, I find myself thinking, “Well… there’s one only a mother could love.” Snarky, right? I don’t mean to be, but sometimes you hear that tuba squawk and wish you had stepped out a minute to use the bathroom or take a phone call or something. Or that holiday dance was performed without much training. Or the script was almost-memorized. Or the off-key singer has a gift of projection. You’re checking your watch. But spot the family, and, sure enough, they are beaming with delight at their child on stage. My wonder of that performance is different than their wonder of that performance. And though I try not to, on occasion, I do wonder.
My children perform often. My adult life, I’ve been watching my own Littles on stage, and I have LOVED every moment of it. I love the tiny voices, the silly dances, the forgotten words in the poems, the very serious first-grade theatrical renditions of the nativity, the singing angels, the new trumpet carol. I have been witness to holiday productions from the mommy perspective for years. Each time my Little is on stage, I glow. Watching my Little enjoy her own performance as she fully engages warms my heart. I mean, I feel the energy of Love actively flowing, cozy and free. I really think she shines, and not just for me, for all! And, I do mean all of my Littles, in each of their things. I have no doubt that the performance I am enjoying is objectively gloriously entertaining.
Now, I am wondering, what if each parent is seeing her child truly? What if the enjoyment is not a parental bias? What if our special relationship with our child offers a crystal clear vision of the Perfect Creation who is our child? Maybe we have unfettered access to this truth because a parent’s unconditional love lifts the veils and dissipates the illusions. Perhaps our enjoyment of our child is a simple truth. Maybe we do have the ability to see perfect creation in every child, and our own child has just handed us the corrective glasses. Imagine life with the joy of that vision.
Wishing you a holiday season filled with Wonder.
Did the mental thrashing make me a better person? Uh… nope. Made me shrink. Made me dismiss me. Made me not notice my gifts, talents, skills, and treasures learned from the mistakes. What an insane power!
The dysmorphia of our own minds is lethal. While I was trapped there, my joy and brilliance was dead.
Self-love, as a way of being, unlocks freedom, creativity, joy, confidence, competence. It’s a beautiful, perfect idea.
While we’re busy doing life and taking care of responsibilities with self-love on the back burner, we experience surface motion and task checklists, and life is shallow. We’re ankle-deep, while there’s an ocean of life and love to experience.
So, here you are - in the old, lumpy, reclining chair of comfortable dissatisfaction looking at life through a smeared window.
As your legs stiffen, you feel deep in your soul that there’s more to YOU.
How would life change if you were to not only spend time noticing your own gifts, but nurturing them? Those gifts are waiting patiently for your inspiration. What would it be like to live out loud?
Stuck in the midst of a hectic time #prettymuchallday, shoulders tensed, to-do list looming, fingers racing across the keyboard when the phone lights up with the image of your dearest friend as she calls. In a flash, you’re immersed…
The world needs you, and me, and every person, to be authentically herSelf/himSelf. When we live in accordance with our Truth, we love, we connect, we flourish, we shine, we encourage. Each individual’s Truth is just that. Why do we try to alter it? As if some human, during some point in time, knew best. Seriously. It’s time to awaken…
I encourage each of us to witness our thoughts and spoken words today, not just to others, but our self-talk too. Is what you’re saying or thinking really true? Not true to your opinions, but true to the truth of God/Love. If not, catch yourself. Our words become our actions and our beliefs.
Unrealistic expectations simply add stress and anxiety. Rather than moving us toward our best lives, they bonk us on the head repeatedly, until we choose to stop inviting them into our minds and hearts.
As I wallow in heartbreak, I clearly see the intensity of my pain is proportionate to the intensity of my love for my furry daughter. No offense, humans, but yesterday I lost my best friend.
As I navigate the palpable emptiness, my pants are still covered in fur and remind me of the freshness of this wound. Stepping in her water bowl slosh, the puddle reminds me of the free-flowing tears. Turning a corner and seeing her toy where she sat… only yesterday… is a sharp blow.
Yet.
Thousands of walks when we thought each may be our last.
Thousands of cuddles when we thought of the time we’d have no more.
Thousands of nose pokes.
Thousands of puppy dog looks to remind us she’d like some attention.
A thousand days of reminders that our plan sketched on our napkin is only a guide, and the upcoming path is not crystal clear or particularly ordered.
We all laughed, sang and enjoyed our amateur parading skills. We only made it to the end of the block before coming back for bowls of water, a puppy pool and ice cream.
Dear Humans,
As I struggled with the grief over the imminent loss of my pet/furry daughter to cancer, I worked to give her the best final days she could have. 738 days later, I reflect on our family’s Health Reform, with a warm furry head in my lap and healthy ears to scratch. My dog is old, slow and happy. And alive.
Our journey these 730 days, since her imminently terminal diagnosis on April Fool’s Day 2016, has been crazy and unexpected. I’m thankful for every day with her.