All about the Village, People

Sister, brother, let your village love you.

A year and a half ago, the unthinkable happened to my family.  What my husband and I had thought was a minor ailment – a persistent cough, chest pressure, and difficulty swallowing at times – turned out to be a tumor the size of a dollar bill in my husband’s chest, putting pressure on his heart and compressing his airways. 

In the days leading up to and following his scans and biopsy, confirming that it was in fact cancer, we felt like we were in the eye of a hurricane.  Life was simultaneously so deathly quiet and still, and yet the storm raged all around us and barreled through us at the speed of a bullet train.

For 6 months, we lived in 3-week cycles of chemo, hospital stays, no immune system, and middle of the night trips to the ER.  [It felt like] we caught literally every bug that went around and when you have no immune system, every fever is potentially life-threatening.

Our village was literally the only reason that we made it through those 6 months.

They delivered meals, babysat at the drop of a hat, sent groceries, cleaned our house, and rallied around us with prayer and encouragement.

At many points in time, friends and strangers stood in the gap for me, and held me up, when I didn’t have what it took to keep going.  

I will never be able to repay the kindness that we received, but each time I am given the opportunity, I am committed to trying.

Each time, I encounter a new mom, I volunteer to bring a meal or coordinate meals if no one else is.  When someone is grieving or struggling or sick, I always offer care in timely, tangible, and practical ways.  I try to show up, to actually pray, and to find the language that someone else needs to communicate encouragement.  Because I have received much, I long to be able to draw near others in their times of need.

It is an intimate, beautiful blessing, to be able to walk alongside, and have others walk alongside you.

And yet, I am constantly amazed at how many times people say no.

I think there are probably a few reasons for this – as a society, we are not used to being vulnerable or known in our darkest moments. 

We are insta-perfect, rather than real and messy. 

We don’t want to burden others.

Sometimes we don’t even know what we need. 

Sometimes it’s just hard to articulate what’s happening or what we need. 

And sometimes we fear that people offer help frivolously, without real intention to follow through, or because they don’t know what else to say when we’re hurting.

And yet, these same people often times find themselves hurting invisibly, grieving alone, and unable to carry the load all by themselves.  

My friends, we are not meant to grieve [or rejoice] alone.

I say this with all the love and gentleness in the world, but I think we need to hear it.  When you offer help, do so genuinely.  Do not offer if you do not intend to follow through.  We must be people of integrity.

And when someone offers help, allow them to come alongside you.  

If they offer, trust that they want to help. 

Say yes, and trust that they are being genuine.  Be honest about what you need – and what you don’t – but please, for love’s sake, say yes. 

My dearest friend, Annie, told me when we were at the very beginning of our journey that God is near the brokenhearted. In times of deepest sorrow, we see God the most clearly.  God is near those who are walking the valley of darkness.  And by allowing others to draw near to you, you are not burdening them, but you are allowing them to be nearer to the tangible presence of God.

Trust that help is not pity, but don’t be proud.  Receive the good gift that it is, and when you are able, you will have plenty of opportunities to pay it forward.

It is a gift to be able to love someone.  It is pleasing to be able to aid someone in their time of need.  And by saying yes to strangers, you actually keep yourself from overburdening anyone.

Our American culture teaches us a lot about self-sufficiency, and standing on our own two feet – both of which are tremendously beneficial in their right place. But it does a terrible job in teaching us to allow our village to surround us and care for us in our times of need.  And as a result, it often times leaves us feeling isolated and alone.

Even this week, I had a rough week and on Wednesday a friend offered to help me out by watching my daughter for a few hours.  But I said no, even though she offered genuinely, and it would have been really helpful – I just felt like I should be able to handle it on my own.  That is the isolating myth that our American culture perpetuates - you should be able to handle everything on your own.

We need to learn the humbleness of trusting others in our vulnerable moments.  To be seen by another – stranger or friend – when you are at your low point, is truly a unique experience.  It is vulnerable and feels risky.  But so is all of love.  And the beauty that arises from true community will transform you in ways that you could never imagine.

Everyone wants a village - but to truly have a village, you have to say yes to letting your people help you, love you, and see you.  

You have to say yes when they offer to be your village.

say YES

Maybe you've heard of the new trend - to chose a word for your New Year, rather than making ambitious resolutions.  Originating in 2006, according to some sources, from Ali Edwards "One Little Word Project," its popularity spans from Melinda Gates to Christian bloggers, to a twitter movement.  I'm not typically a bandwagon-eer, but there is something appealing to me in the simplicity of a single word that reminds me of who I am and how I want to live out the year. 

So for 2019, I am jumping on ye olde wagon, and selecting the word "YES" for my word.

[Apparently Shonda Rhimes already did this, and wrote a book about it, but I'm not going for originality here, and I would be thrilled if my year of yes was halfway as exciting as hers.]

Yes, because as I thought about the things that I wanted to live into this year, it kept coming up as a theme... I wanted to laugh more, I wanted to go on more adventures and be more spontaneous, I wanted to take more risks, I wanted to stop feeling small, I wanted to believe that I was/am enough, I wanted to live life more fully, I wanted to build deeper friendships, I wanted to stop being afraid, I wanted to see healing happen in various areas of my life, and on and on. 

And it didn't feel like those things were inaccessible to me - but it often felt like I simply chose otherwise, whether out of fear, or "logic", or need for security.  I say no to things that are life-giving, and continue to trudge away under unnecessary loads of life-sucking ish.  And I'm tired of it.

This year has been a hard one for me - in different ways than the previous one, when we went through the active part of Jon's cancer journey.  That year was exhausting, devastating, and focused on one purpose and goal - it was a marathon, where we put our heads down and ran and did whatever we had to do to survive.  This year has been one of recovery, and realizing just how battered and bruised I was.  It has been one of emptiness, scars, and grief for losses that I wasn't able to grieve then.  Of realizing just how much fear I let in, and how small my world had to become, and how messy I was am. I told Jon the other night, I feel like a hollow shell of myself, no longer able to laugh, struggling to feel like me.  I feel shut down, guarded, and small - doubtful of myself, very keenly aware of the ways that fear, anger, and sadness have a foothold. 

And yet, I know that this is not who I am, if for no other reason than that I remember...  I remember who I am (the good work that God has begun in me is not finished, nor was it in vain).  I remember seasons where I have lived into who I am.  I know what it feels like to be content in my own skin.  I remember what it feels like to feel full and abundant and able to welcome others into a contented presence.  Two steps forward, one step back.  I am continually on the same journey, to be a woman with peace in my presence, a woman who knows who she is, and knows that she is called beloved.

The other night, we watched Moana with the kids and I was struck by (((spoiler alert))) the moment when Moana realizes that the lava monster Te Ka is actually Te Fiti, beloved goddess of the islands, robbed of her heart.  As she walks towards her, she sings

"They have stolen the heart from inside you

But this does not define you

This is not who you are

You know who you are"

I resonate with Te Ka, and the sense of loss (and fear of loss) turning me into a version of myself that I don't always recognize, a hollow shell of the bold, life-loving, adventure-seeking woman that I am and long to be again.   But just as the waters part, and Moana restores the heart of Te Fiti, so too, God promises to turn our hearts of stone back into hearts of flesh.  To remind us of who we are, and bring us yet again into the spacious place. 

So YES, is my way of saying "I will receive."  No, I will not be cowed by fear anymore. 

There have certainly been seasons when I, being the type A driven personality that I am, have needed to say no more.  Where I've needed to do less so that my identity is not based on what I succeed (or fail) in.  In the past, I have needed to cut back drastically in order to focus on rest and purpose and intentionality in my yeses - giving my Best Yes, as it were. 

But this doesn't feel like one of those seasons.  It feels like a season where the invitation is to say yes to life - in some cases with reckless abandon, in others, with intentionality and measured hope.  To expect more, of myself, and others.  To assume yes, rather than preempt a no.  To be open, rather than closed.  To intentionally move out of the bunker and into a wider, fresher place.  Sure there are other words that could describe this as well - more, open, adventure, life, to name a few.  But YES gives me simple guidance, it gives me a starting place, and it indicates a heart-openness that I want to grab hold of.

In some ways, it's a reset button. An invitation into a more spacious place...

I'm expecting it to feel uncomfortable and foreign.  I'm expecting to fail often in saying yes (already have).  But even just in the past three days, having this word in the back of my mind has altered the ways that I respond, on a gut level to different people, opportunities, adventures and invitations - and I'm excited to see where it goes from here.

34 Goals Before 35

Turning 35 has always felt like somewhat of a milestone to me - not quite sure why.  Even more so than 40, although that's certainly another big one as well.  Maybe it's just a number - maybe it's the age at which I thought I would "be totally a grown-up" or "have figured out my life" etc etc.

Whatever it is, it has felt significant and weighty to me for years.

I turned 34 a few weeks ago, and several months before that, I decided that I wanted to make the year between 34 and 35 into something fun by giving myself some adventure/fun/wanted-to-forever goals - to be more precise, 34 goals before I hit 35.  I wrote the list well before my birthday, but am just now getting around to sharing it publicly, because, you know, life.

If you'd like to join me in any one of these, please name it and claim it!  I'd love company, and the goal is for this to be fun.   The goal is for these to be tangible, attainable, adventure-oriented, fun, and not (too) work-related!  No further ado, here's the list:

1) Get highlights - never done it, always wanted to try it, got enough gray hairs to justify it!

2) Eat at Top of the Hub - lived here a decade, and never done it, it's long overdue.

3) Take the kids to NYC (maybe on the train?  They'd love that!)

4) Take a trip with Jon, just the two of us - this is an annual item, but including it none-the-less!

5) Go hiking with Jon - maybe tackle Washington again, but take him along this time!?  We always have good conversations and make good memories when we're roaming, but haven't done it solo in years.

6) Run a half-marathon - the last time I did this was in 2011, and it was a good life discipline as well as lots of fun (except the part where we took the last two months off from training and then ran it cold turkey...)  I'd love to get back on the running horse, and this is a good stretch goal for me!

7) Write a viral-ish blog post - how does one make that happen? can you? It's probably dumb luck half the time?  And other times, it just involves writing well, writing relevant, writing often, and putting your content out there in more than one location - so that's what I'm going to try to do.

8) Release a pattern for Murph&Moose - I've got a few in the works, just haven't actually released them.  Time to make that happen.

9) Plant sunflowers - they're my favorite flowers, but I never actually remember to plant them

10) Buy a house? (hahahaha)  But maybe if I put it here as a goal, that will lead us to begin laying the next steps for it sometime in the next century.  It's one of those things you should do as you become a grown-up, right?

11) Blog or write weekly - it's life-giving for my soul and good for my brain.

12) Spend time each day in reading, quiet time, and reflection, even if it's just 5 minutes

13) Get to know 3 new neighbors

14) Learn how to make a buttonhole correctly - I'm an excellent seamstress, but this is one skill which I am embarrassed to say that I have never mastered, rarely use, and still have to hack when I do.  This is going to be the year that I learn!

15) Go on a monthly date night - same goal as last year, but it's been great, so I'd like to keep it up!

16) Find a job?  Or have a clear career idea that I pursue, as we move toward having all three kids in school in a year or so.

17) Join a CSA - I'd happily take recommendations!  We love fruits and veggies and eating local, but need to not break the bank.  We've talked about it for years, but I think I'd like to do it this year!

18) Get a tattoo - wanted to for years, but have always been broke, pregnant, nursing, or dealing with life, or all of the above.

19) Take a class in something - I like learning, and parenthood has made my brain kind of squishy.

20) Finally go to counseling (again) - the events of this last year make this a really healthy choice for me, and I'm saying it out loud so that I'll actually make the phone call.

21) Go ice skating with Jon - or at least go ice skating without requiring a Bobby the Seal 😂😂

22) Write hand-written letters more often

23) Finish 5 books - this might seem like a low number, but with 3 little kids, a husband, and a small business, it hasn't happened the last several years, and I'd like to change that.

24) Go to Patriots Training Camp for Jon - he's wanted to for years and we've never made it happen. This year, I'm going to try to make sure that we make it out!

25) Get a massage - I have a gift certificate for one, just haven't done it yet and need to use it sometime in the next 6 years! ;)  Time to make that relaxation happen, but making personal pampering time is tricky sometimes.

26) Family trip to DC

27) (Finally) Plan and execute a themed family Halloween costume

28) Drink more water than coffee each day - shouldn't have to be a goal, buuuuuuut it is.

29) Use my serger more Learn to use my serger!

30) Be intentional with one-on-one time with each of the kids

31) Continue watching Oscar Movies - specifically, finally watch 127 hours, so we can mark 2010 as complete on our Oscar Best Picture Nominees list.  For the past 5 years, Jon and I have been watching through every movie ever nominated for Best Picture (all 500+ of them).  2010 is complete except for 127 Hours, and somehow I'm just never in the mood for 20 minutes of sawing off a limb.

32) Create space to go deeper with a few good friends

33) Make a Quark toy - I've been looking for ways to integrate my physics background with my love of sewing, and I've been dreaming about this one for a while!

34) Write out family rules of life - these are very pinterest-y projects these days, elegantly written out values, principles, and rules that we expect our family to be shaped by (e.g. in our house we... say we're sorry when we're wrong... see failure as an opportunity to learn.. clean up our own messes... value the brother over the toy, etc).  But I love the simple clarity that they provide for shaping character and would like to think this through for our family.

What about you?  What goals do you have for this year?  

Do you have a milestone birthday coming up?  What would you like to accomplish before then?

FALSE: God never gives us more than we can handle

This morning, I ran into a dear friend and amidst the usual banter, she was asking more seriously about what to say to another friend who was in a really hard situation and feeling overwhelmed and unable to bear up under the load (because my friend was there with me in my darkest hour that I'll describe below, and knew that I had been there before).  And my friend said, "I just don't know what to say because I know that God never gives us more than we can handle, but she really is overwhelmed."  I shared some of the thoughts I'll share here, and then we went our own ways.

I went home and kept mulling over the conversation because something just wasn't sitting right.  As I pondered it, I realized that it was that phrase...

"God never gives us more than we can handle..."

As I wrestled with it more, I realized - I don't actually think that that is what I believe, nor do I think it's what the Bible actually says...

I'm not a Biblical scholar, but I've never found that one in any of my Bible searches or studies.  Yes, you can find that God will not tempt you, beyond what you are able to withstand (1 Cor 10:13b).  And you can find that "We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed." (2 Corinthians 4:8-9 - but that is in the context of verse 7, that we are weak and the power is God's not ours...)  But nowhere in Scripture does God promise that He will not give us more than we can handle - the closest I can find to it, is an allusion in John 16:12-13 that He has more to tell us than we are able to bear now - but even so, it will be revealed in days to come.

If you can find it, let me know.  I'm willing to be corrected.  But Scripture is full of examples of people who are given more than they can bear - Naomi, Mary, David, Paul - not to mention, many people whose demise is trying to control their own circumstances and "handle" what they have been unbearably given (c.f. Moses, Abra(ha)m and Sarai/h, Solomon, Saul, Jacob, just to name a few...)

But rather than wax theological, let's make it personal.

A year ago, my husband was diagnosed with cancer, at the ripe old age of 31.  At 32, I wrestled with the fear that I would be left a widow, with three young children.  For 6 months, we lived in 3-week cycles of chemo and hospitalizations.  We were in the hospital for 40% of our days and nights.  I juggled being back and forth between home and hospital - struggled with the kids' fears, anxieties and needs, as well Jon's needs, and my own emotions and needs.  We were deeply cared for by our friends and communities - and on one hand, it was a profoundly rich season in its starkness - everything important was revealed and everything else fell away, and that is beautiful in its own way.  But in other very real ways, it destroyed me, overwhelmed me, and has led to struggles with depression, now that we are out of it.

The darkest day for me was two days after Christmas 2017.  Jon had been unexpectedly hospitalized 2 days before Christmas - with one of the more scary infections that he had, and his discharge just kept getting pushed back day after day.  Hope given and then taken away... again, and again, and again.  The kids and I had spent Christmas alone, and then immediately after, everyone came down with the stomach bug - I had gone 24 hours without sleeping at all two times within 4 days, and still had vomit in my hair, from the baby who had refused to sleep anywhere except on top of me, waking up hourly to vomit on me.  I was exhausted and alone.  And then Jon found out that he would not be discharged that day, yet again, because his white blood cell counts were still too low.

I had a full blown panic attack, with three small children surrounding me, needing me.  I was lying on the floor, unable to breathe, certain that I was having a heart attack, phone with barely any battery, sobbing - physically unable to move - while my kids watched and my baby climbed on me and I couldn't do anything to help them or protect them. 

Tell me again that we are never given more than we can handle. 

Even now, when I think about that day, I tear up.  Because that was the day when I screamed at God - "I can't do this anymore. This is more than I can bear..."  And it was.  I couldn't handle it.  I texted my sister and told her I needed help and she called my local friends and they came over and sat with me, held me, until I could breathe again.  Fed my children dinner, and reminded me that I wasn't alone, and wouldn't leave until my kids were in bed and I was stable.  Loved me tangibly and beautifully.  We made it through, but I was undone. 

Because the reality is - God does give us more than we can handle.   We do come to the end of ourselves.  Trials and suffering and struggles that threaten to undo us.  Loss, grief, depression - darkness that cannot be managed, the end of the tunnel nowhere in sight. 

Even today - Jon and I woke up this morning to news that an acquaintance, that we had briefly interacted with on a few marriage retreats and admired from a distance, unexpectedly died of a heart attack yesterday.  One moment she was living her ordinary, joy-filled life - the next, she was gone.  I imagine that maybe today, her students, her husband, and her children feel as though God has given them more than they can possibly bear. 

It cheapens grief - and it falsely inflates our own sense of power and strength - when we insinuate that we, or anyone, should be able to bear up under whatever God (or evil, or life, etc) throws our direction. 

"We can bear up under anything" is never the motto for a Christian because it's only part of the Gospel.

The Gospel is that we are broken.  We are sinful.  We are undone.  We are weak.  AND we are rescued by a God who is holy, mighty and loves us beyond belief.  We are able to do all this (being content in any circumstance)... through Christ, who strengthens us (Philippians 4:13).  We are made enough because his power is made perfect in weakness...  therefore we will boast all the more about our weaknesses (2 Cor 12:9). 

"We have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body." 

THAT, is the Gospel. 

Yes.  You are crushed, undone, and overwhelmed.  But God is not.  But you are not alone.  And where you can't, He can.  We like to focus on the He can part - but the other half is messy and involves a lot more "we can't" than we are comfortable with...

So this morning, I told my friend to tell her friend - and if this is you today, I'll say it to you as well -

It's okay that you can't do it all.  It's okay to be undone.  Because in those moments, God draws near to us, and where we can't, He can.  In those moments, you will have the sweet privilege (when you look back in hindsight) of knowing God far more intimately than most - because you will have to depend on His strength more dearly than most and you will know your own weakness more deeply than most - in the moment, it's okay if you yell at Him and don't feel sweet or intimate at all.  He is there none-the-less, and He isn't going anywhere.

It's okay that you can't do it all - you will have to let go of some things, and you won't be able to do it all - because you aren't God and that's okay - and some days will suck and you will have to ask for help more than you want to.  And other days, you will feel more normal and capable than you want to.  

I told her to tell her friend - "today you can't - so how can I practically help? can I pray? can I pick up groceries? can I babysit? can I fill up the gas tank? can I sit with X for you?"

Because friends, the Gospel is not "chin up, you'll get through it" (aka God never gives us more than we can handle) - but it is the reality of God with us.  Emmanuel. God who dwells among us. The God who says, you don't have to be strong, because I Am.  And you don't have to be alone, because I Am. 
And that is the Gospel we get to reflect to one another, by how well we sit with them, stay with them, and carry their burdens with them.

THNGVBD

I bit a rock instead of a black bean last year and cracked my tooth - but I didn't get it looked at for a year because my husband had cancer and we were a little busy - so by the time I got it checked out, I had to get a full root canal, which was fun.  And when I got to the dentist on Tuesday for a routine cleaning, I checked to see if I had enough insurance coverage to get the x-rays and found out that the root canal had maxed out my coverage until January and so, not only were x-rays not covered, but the routine cleaning wasn't either so I had to get up and leave the dentist - which if you think going to the dentist is bad, try going to the dentist and then leaving embarrassed, it is even worse.

I could tell that it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

We have always said no to x-rays for our 5 and 4-year-old at the dentist because they're 5 and 4 and we brush/floss regularly and we figured why expose them to extra radiation - until my 5-year-old started complaining of a sore tooth.  I thought it was probably just loose - because he's five - but we did x-rays and found out that he not only had a cavity but actually had 4 cavities, including two that needed root canals.  Additionally, our 10-year-old car, which is like 70 years in car-years, needed a new battery because it wouldn't start one day a few weeks ago, and then when it did start two days later, it shook so badly that it felt like an earthquake to drive.  Turns out two spark plugs and an ignition coil solved that problem - but crowns and a car that is almost ready for medicare rendered our bank account nearly insolvent when all those bills came in on Tuesday...

I think I'll move to Australia [good public transportation and universal health care, and also USD are worth more than Australian dollars...?]

After I picked up our kids from school on Tuesday, I took them to the post office before we went to the park.  They threw temper tantrums.  They whined.  They planted themselves on the sidewalk and refused to move.  I told them it would be fast.  I told them we'd go to the park afterward.  I said we wouldn't get a special treat if they didn't cooperate.  No one listened.  

I could tell that it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

Because no one would cooperate, and no one was moving (but the little two were in the stroller), I told the 5-year-old to stay put on the sidewalk and went into the post office without him - because he's five and he wasn't moving anywhere (which was the problem) and there was a huge picture window in the front of the post office so I knew I could see him the whole time anyhow.  I asked two people if I could cut in front of them in line, and just had to drop a pre-paid package, so the whole thing took less than 2 minutes, but by the time I got outside, there was an angry glaring woman who wanted to know whose child this was and why his parent was totally negligent.  Her glare needed no words to communicate that I was not only a bad mom but also a total embarrassment to humanity, despite the fact that my child *still had not moved* from the spot he claimed he planned to live in for the next 16 years.

I could tell that it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

I could tell it was going to be a bad day because we then continued down the sidewalk to the park, but the bridge we needed was closed for construction, so we had to go back the way we'd come to get to the other bridge.  To pacify my now very angry, tired children, I gave them the only snack that I had with me, which was Cheetos.  They all loved those, which helped a lot.  The baby loved them most of all and smeared them all over her face and legs and stroller, which was great until we passed the same angry glaring woman, who now had artificial orange cheesy goop on my two-year-old to substantiate her claims of my ineptitude at motherhood.  I'm sure your kids only eat kale and quinoa neatly without ever getting mess anywhere and never throws tantrums, Glaring Mom.  

Meanwhile, my child is smearing her Cheetos all the way to Australia.

We finally made it to the park and found one of the boys' friends there which made them super happy and they had lots of fun playing together until the mom, who doesn't really like me, started trying to convince them to play with another friend because they were "more athletic" and more "socially of the same status" and my mama heart burned and ached within me for the terrible things that money and status and moms can do sometimes. Maybe it was just her insecurity, or something else going on that I knew nothing about, but to me, it felt like a slap (in my lower class face).  Luckily her kid was kind and kept happily playing with my sweet, kind son and he was oblivious to the whole thing.  But my shame and rage just kept climbing higher and higher.

It was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

That's what it was too, because, after the playground debacle, we headed to sports and I further cemented our lower class status by changing my kids clothing in the corner of the fields behind the stroller, which is never as sheltered as I anticipate it being - meanwhile the baby ran off and I shouted more than I wanted to and the boys long socks got stuck halfway on and they tried to take off their underwear instead of their shirts and then kept saying while half-naked "why can't we just go to soccer practice NOW?! Looks there's my friend!"  "HI FRIEND'S MOM that we don't know LOOK AT MY NAKED SELF!" (not really the last part, but that's what it felt like...)

Now, I said, I'm going to Australia.

On the way home,  I forgot which stop we get off at and was corrected by my husband which made me cross and grouchy and I didn't feel like explaining the whole long story of my afternoon, so I just snapped at him and made him grouchy too.

"I am having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day!" I wanted to shout to everybody.  [But I didn't, because I'm a grown-up, and we don't really do that as much as we should.]

We bickered all evening because quarrelsome moments tend to multiply when two people are tired and there are three little narcissists running around underfoot (and the big two above foot).  The kids spilled bathwater, we didn't have food ready for dinner, we ran out of milk, the baby didn't go to sleep quickly, the boys' bath water was too hot, the PJ's I had picked out weren't the right ones and I lost my temper when yet again naked boys were running around the house and the neighbors were shouting happy birthday downstairs and I wasn't in a birthday mood at all.

It took hours to finally communicate well and talk about the parts of the day that were frustrating because sometimes shamed hearts and weary souls take a while to unpack.  We went to bed late, but we finally reached a healthy place - either that or we both were just so exhausted that we stopped self-protecting and let honesty take over, which is almost always a good thing.  

But then my husband said that my toes were too cold to snuggle and I hate wearing socks to bed.

It has been a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

I've heard that some days are just like that.

Even in Australia.

(Thankfully, Wednesday was much, much better.)

Hope this helps, if and when you find yourself in your own terrible, horrible day.  They do tend to improve with the next.  Otherwise, Australia is always an option.  And if not, one can always write a halfway humorous book/blog post about it.

xo,

KD

* adapted from Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day by Judith Viorst

In defense of the Mom Resume

Dear Potential Employer,

A few months ago, a friend of mine was tasked with hiring a new member for her team (she is in a management position at a multinational company).  Her boss told her specifically to "think man, single, no kids."  While not only is that very illegal, it also represented an assumption that is factually inaccurate - that a woman, much less a woman with children or spouse, would be less committed or less able to complete the job than an equally qualified single man.

As you will soon find out - because I don't believe in hiding things - I am not only a married woman, but I also have children and have been out of the job market for the last four years, caring for our young children.  But rather than seeing this as a liability, as my friend's boss did, I want to share with you today why you not only should you hire me but also why I believe that my experience as a mother actually gives me additional qualifications that would benefit any employer.

Now, if you read my resume, you'll notice that I have excelled in past employment, that I come with excellent credentials and references, and that I haven't just sat around during my four years of stay-at-home motherhood, but rather have built my own small business in my "spare" time, which has doubled in profit every year that I've been in business.  There are many reasons, other than my experience as a mom, that you should hire me and I'd love to talk more about them.

But for the sake of this post, humor me, and we'll just talk about the experience that a *mom* brings to the table (or, if you'd prefer, you can also read from the experts, here, here, or here.)

Ability to manage people | Conflict Resolution
I have jokingly told many people, motherhood has given me a Ph.D. in advanced conflict resolution, negotiation, and the fine art of getting narcissistic people to do what they don't want to do, nicely.

If you're a mother, you are well aware of the petty differences of opinions which can threaten to derail the most mundane of operations - say grocery shopping, eating dinner, or you know, which sock to put on which foot.  If you're a mother of more than one child, you're practically a guru, when it comes to cajoling individuals to go anywhere or do anything, from the mundane of getting dressed slightly faster than a sloth - to the complex of choosing who gets the red plate for dinner between two children whose favorite color is "redder than his."  Imagine those skills applied to (mostly) rational adults.

Mothers by and large are able to lend a human, relational element to the workplace - many are more patient, better listeners, and more capable of juggling competing demands individually, while motivating peers towards common goals.  We are level-headed under pressure and often able to head off conflict before it begins, simply by listening well, while remaining clear on long and short-term goals.

Flexibility and Determination: Not Afraid of Failure
Employees who are willing to step out and dare to fail, and learn from their mistakes, lead their companies forward into uncharted territories (c.f. Forbes, HBR).  If you are a mother, you are categorically familiar with failure - whether it is trying endless strategies to get your little monkey to go the bleep to sleep, or negotiating just one more bite of broccoli, or attempting to fit one more errand in before nap time - mom's know what it's like to fail, and fail regularly.  And yet, being defeated, and not trying again is not an option for us.  We might not like failure any more than the next person, but we also know that it's just part of the game.  We intuitively know when to press in, or when to try something different - we can change direction on a dime if needed. We get creative, we learn from our mistakes, we try something different, and we never give up.  If you want an employee who is willing to think outside the box and take on any challenge - hire a mom who has had to deal with getting a three-year-old to wear shoes when they don't want to.

Humor
I have commented many times to friends, that my number one lesson learned, largely from necessity, from motherhood is to not take myself too seriously (c.f. this story, or this one, or this one). Ask any parent who has had to deal with a poop-explosion in the first hour of a 14 hour car ride, or mom whose child has cracked a full dozen eggs onto the kitchen floor while she attempts to grab a shower - or really any parent of a 2-year-old - and they will tell you that if you can't laugh at yourself, parenthood will make you explode. Moms have the ability to not take ourselves too seriously, to find the humor in hard situations, and to somehow watch that *one* episode of Daniel Tiger 20 million times without losing our minds.  Forbes cites humor as a critical part of leadership, quoting Eisenhower that "A sense of humor is part of the art of leadership, of getting along with people, of getting things done."  An employee with the ability to not take themselves too seriously handles conflict better, bears up under stressful situations well, and in general is just more enjoyable to be around.

BUT aren't moms less likely to be "all in" at work?
One of the largest concerns about hiring a mom is that they won't be 100% committed to the job - they will have limitations on their time and focus and are by nature spread thinner than most.  And also, they might leave, if they feel like their kids need them more.  This is true in some ways (arguably, it's also true for good dads, but somehow that doesn't often seem to be raised as a question... another post for another time).  However, I'd suggest four responses to that:

1.  More and more studies are finding that having balance in life helps makes for better employees.  You don't want someone who is 100% on the job all the time because they lack perspective.  You want employees who have other interests and passions and things that recharge their brains - millennial organizations and many start-ups are leading the way in this, by creating "relaxation" and "play" space at work so that employees can fuel those creative juices. Parents by nature have built in "off-the-clock" time - and while it might not be relaxing at all times (sometimes ever, let's be honest), it does break up the tunnel vision and give you additional perspectives that aren't common within the typical office setting.  Additionally, coming to work *is* our break from parenting - and parents are more likely to enthusiastically welcome the opportunity to succeed and function in a realm that does not include bodily fluids, because it is fresh, clean, and something that we're capable of mastering.

2.  Moms by nature are more effective at prioritizing what really matters and not wasting energy on what doesn't. We know that we have a limited window at work, and we are committed to making the most of it.  We are well-versed in the critical skill of picking our battles and honing in on the central task at hand.  We know that the battle over what clothes to wear is only important on certain days but not running into the street always matters.  We know that hangry temper tantrums after school sometimes fade faster when you ignore them and wait to see what's really going on, but we all know when "that" scream means we need to run to our child immediately.  Better than most, we get that some things are central, while others can be delegated.  We are efficient - because we have to be.  If you want someone who will play petty office politics, don't go with a mom.  But if you want an employee who will get the job done efficiently, without derailing on petty differences or side issues - a mom is a good bet.

3.  Moms, more than any other people group, are capable of multitasking and juggling multiple operations - we have to be level-headed under pressure because nothing can destroy you faster than a 5-year-old who can see that you are folding under the pressure of his onslaught of screamed "logic".  If we are capable of juggling putting the baby to bed, while bathing the toddler, and making the preschooler practice piano, while cleaning up dinner and preparing school lunches for the next day, all the while on the phone with the pediatrician to make sure that that rash really isn't a big deal - there is no challenge in managing a difficult client, while saying on top of the day's tasks and preparing for the upcoming conference.

4.  Yes, moms might leave, if their kids need them more, or if being home is perceived to be more desirable than being at work.  But when companies are willing to support moms with basic needs (a lactation room, flexible hours if the work is done well within those hours, adequate vacation days, good health benefits, equal pay to her male contemporaries so she can pay for childcare, and an environment where she is not ostracized) in my experience, you will find that she is every bit as committed as her male comrades, if not more.  Where women leave, often times it is because those basic needs are not being met - most of which are also needs that men will express (minus the men's lactation room).  So if I may be so audacious, if you are concerned that you will hire a mother and she won't be fully committed to your company, perhaps it is also time for some introspection as to your company policies.

Now, as you might gather from point #4 - as well as the word count - unfortunately, this is not a cover letter that I could ever fully write to a future employer - because who can be that honest and still have any hope of getting the job?  Not many, unfortunately.  But my hope is that in writing this, I will spark some pride in moms, especially moms who have been "just moms" for a period of time - that they actually do bring a lot to the table because of - not in spite of - their experience as parents.  And I hope that as a result of reading this, someone somewhere in a hiring position will reconsider the candidates that they are subconsciously eliminating because of "mom gaps" in their resume or "child limits" on their time.

Also, if you'd like to hire me, I'd be happy to discuss.

Very sincerely,
Kristen

Today is the first day of the rest of our lives...

Today is the first day of the rest of our lives...

[Disjointed, because I'm writing stream of consciousness... sorry!]

Nine months ago, Jon was diagnosed with a PMBCL tumor in his chest.  I've jokingly told him that this is his (much harder) pregnancy - no alcohol, restricted diet, pain, nausea, scans and hospitals.  And now, 9 months later, he is about to give birth to whatever comes next.

You've heard that it was said, "whatever doesn't kill you, makes you stronger" - but I tell you, there's a long part in the middle, before you see the stronger part, where you're really not sure whether you're going to wind up stronger or destroyed.  When what would, will, make you stronger actually does really threaten to destroy you. 

Today is Jon's big PET scan - he went back for the injection about 15 minutes ago, and so I am sitting in the lobby waiting with my very large cup of coffee and empty stomach.  Today is the day when we will either hear the words "remission" or we will hear that the cancer is still there and we're moving into phase 2 of treatment.   We'll either hear that Jon is neutropenic again, or that he appears to finally have a self-generated immune system. We have hunches and guesses, longings and prayers, but really we know nothing.  And so we are waiting once again.

The middle period of waiting is hellish.

For three months, we have waited.  Life has felt normalish - we've gone camping, we've made playdates, we've had dinner parties, we've made new friends, we've gone on dates, we've felt safe enough to have real fights again, we've made plans for further out than the next day - but there's always the specter of cancer, looming in the background.

There are many days now when I feel normal - mentally healthy, sane, and able to be humorous - and then out of the blue, walking down our hill, I will hear my own screams (in my head), grieving the premature loss of my husband and my kids' daddy.  I will find myself watching Jon with the kids and begin weeping, imagining their grief were he not there.  I will irrationally panic over a child with a cough too close to my husband. 

What they don't tell you, when you begin a cancer journey, is that the aftermath of treatment is every bit as trying as the process.  That being a caregiver or family of a loved one, you might not have cancer in your body, but you have cancer.  And when life finally slows down to the waiting period - that you have to begin the process of actually healing and processing all the things you didn't have space to process when you were in the thick of treatment.  And sometimes it's really hard - fighting back the fear is a real battle - learning to live normal life again takes time.  Even small talk has to be relearned - because after something like this, it feels petty - even while it serves a worthwhile social purpose.  I'm sure that, come whatever may, I will need years of counseling to fully process all that has transpired. 

As an aside, don't even speak to me about children separated from their parents at the border - it will make me too angry.  I have witnessed first hand the trauma that occurs when children are separated from a parent and scared that they will lose that parent.  I don't have to imagine their screams because I have heard them from my own children - I still hear them in my dreams - as they were pulled away from us, scared - in a process that we were able to prepare them for, into the safe arms of loving friends and family members, to be reunited with us only days later.  My oldest son has been in counseling for months and is finally seeing healing happen - but the trauma has been real and should *never* be used as a weapon to deter anything.  I try hard to be able to honor multiple perspectives as valid, including ones that are different from my own, but on this one, no, I will not hear it. 

Kids *are* incredibly resilient, and I feel like we're finally seeing the fruit of that in our children - they are stronger now than they were before, after a process that I would never wish on anyone.  They are more aware of their emotions and feelings, they are learning kindness and generosity in ways that they wouldn't have otherwise - and they understand in a much deeper way what it means to be cared for by friends and to care for others in return.  They know that it's okay to feel sad and angry and scared, but what we do when we feel those emotions matters. 

And Jon and I, we are stronger too, even though we might not always feel it.  We have seen firsthand the kindness and generosity of our village - we have literally been carried by them, by you, more times than we can count.  Like Moses in the battle with Amalek (Ex. 17:8-13),  time and time again, our arms have been upheld in battle, when we cannot hold them up on our own anymore.  We know that we are not alone.  We are more open, more willing to share our lives with others, and more honest about what matters and what doesn't.  We understand the value of one another far more than we would have before and fight to enjoy one another even as we see our differences more plainly.  We strive to make the most of each day together, rather than put things off for a more opportune time.  We have learned that gratitude sweetens ANY circumstance and makes even the hardest situations livable.

This has been a hellish year.  But it hasn't killed us yet, so maybe it is making us stronger.

And so here we are today.  The waiting is ending.  Today is the first day of the rest of our lives. 

Does it matter, what the news is?

On one hand, yes, absolutely it matters.  We will be crushed if the cancer is still there.  Our lives will once again be raked across the coals.  Our battle will increase and our trauma to heal from will prolong. We will grieve with real grief.  In the same way that we will celebrate with real joy if the cancer is finally gone. We will laugh and jump and cry and make plans for a big party with all of you - because this is something worth celebrating!

But on the other hand, it doesn't matter.  We will live today the same way, either way.  With gratitude for one another and our communities.  In humble dependence on one another and our village.  We will keep walking forward, not backwards.  We will believe in the same God that we have believed in through this journey - and sustained by His hand, we will continue to walk forward, whether into hospital or home.  We will continue to heal and hope and long for a world in which cancer is not part of the story.  We will run with Dana Farber to see cancer annihilated (please join us on July 22nd!).

We will continue to love one another and live out our vows to one another - whether it be in sickness or in health, for richer or for poorer, for better or for worse. 

Come what may.

Onward and upward.  Further up and further in...

Season may change, winter to spring
But I love you until the end of time
Come what may, come what may
I will love you until my dying day