Sometimes, I like to ignore the elephant in the room. I will re-phrase, I want to try to ignore the elephant in the room. This rarely works out for me, even when I try my hardest. Once the wrestle begins, I am afraid it doesn’t end until I’ve either thought my way through, said my peace, or determined it must be paused for more information or clarity. This quality is often annoying but cannot be helped. That wasn’t an apology.

I think we should talk about apologies. If you aren’t amid a silent retreat or social media/news sabbatical (and if you are, I’m so happy for you) likely, you have read and watched the national throw down between Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez and  Ted Yoho. I’m sure it has elicited strong feelings, for me too. This isn’t about what you think about her or him. The part specifically I want to work through today is about apologizing. 

Apologies are meant to be healing for both parties, but why do they often end up contrite and harmful.  Why has apologizing become somehow weak and un-American? In the 1970 movie Lovestory, Ali MacGraw came out strong with the statement, “Love means never having to say you are sorry.” I think she should have said, a REQUIREMENT of love is saying you’re sorry.  But as Sir Elton John sang it, “Sorry Seems to Be the Hardest Word.” 

I am sorry statements are like leafy or bitter greens, so good for us and yet so often unappealing. Their texture gets easier to stomach only by repeatedly trying. The phrase, I am sorry takes so much time for us to get familiar with, to learn how to do it, and even then, there are 100 other ways we’d rather get out of it. There is nothing harder than a TRUE apology. Ironically, a fake apology or in my children’s language, faux-pology (a fake word with a catchy ring ) is very easy. I can faux-apologize til the cows come home; it requires almost nothing of me. Even better, it gives me immediate relief that I have wrapped it up, put my bow on, and moved along. But as is often the case, wrapping it up, doesn’t mean it is done. 

Our “apologetic history” comes from a few things. As usual, our origin story begins it for us. Did we watch our parents apologize to each other? How did they do? Did they apologize to us when they made a mistake or were wrong? What were the expectations of our apologies when we hurt our brother or sister, lied to our teacher, or disobeyed a rule? Were there lots of “rules” about apologizing. Children are often given strict guidelines about apologies, which their parents don’t adhere to at all. Look someone in the eye, speak up, admit what you did, gravel and say you are sorry to name a few. Even after all that, children are often not forgiven in the way they are desiring. Their indiscretion or lack of good judgment is frequently brought up repeatedly in the future as a tool for shaming. Add a little rinse and repeat, and we become adults that often over or under apologize. 

You may be a chronic apologizer, which is more common in women and likely modeled after a parent or because you lived in a household where walking a thin and perfect line was required. This person apologizes for the air they breathe and the space they take up without even realizing it. The chronic apologizer cannot help but to reveal themselves quickly. It speaks not to their education, professionalism, or capabilities.  We get a little tone deaf to the constant, “I’m sorry that I didn’t pick the perfect time for you not to be late. I’m sorry my birthday fell on Father’s Day. I’m sorry my job requires me to travel, and I missed the school event.” It becomes exhausting and distracting, and I’m sorry statements don’t register as apologies because they are not.  They are just avoiding conflict. 

The opposite extreme is often termed the non-apologist. This is the person who believes that it is never their fault. Their rare apologies use language that insinuates their responsibility for the error and the need to apologize.  For example, I am sorry you are so sensitive and misinterpreted my comment.  My friends that is NOT an apology. When you look closer, the non-apologist typically does so to protect themself. Their affiliation with apology ties to a belief that there must be something wrong with them if they made an error that requires apologizing. It is an enormous threat to their self-esteem which is usually a reflection of a very low self-esteem. There is an additional fear that if one apology is made, a thousand others must follow. With an overwhelming mountain of apologies before you, likely the more comfortable option is to not start with one. For the non-apologist, it is the people in their life that learn to live without it. They accept that an apology won’t be made, even when it should. For most people, you can’t live with this forever. 

Then there is what I think of as the most common apologizer, the fragmentary apologizer. This person doesn’t over or under apologize but insists on apologizing for exactly and ONLY the part they are responsible for. If I am 48% responsible for the fight, I want to apologize for my 48% and not a single percentage more.  I additionally want you to apologize for your 52%. I might even throw in an “I’m the bigger person hereby apologizing first” because you know, I like credit. Or, in a recent event, I had never even considered, insist on what I WON’T apologize for to show how awesome I am in the middle of my apology. I won’t apologize for my ability to master my look of inquiry when on the inside, I wonder where the heck you get off. I won’t apologize for my ability to multitask myself into an early grave, or maybe I won’t apologize for my incredible commitment to my faith, family, or love of sugar but it never hurts to highlight a few of my amazing qualities in the middle of a an “I’m so sorry.”   And that my friends is how I like it done. I am 99% certain; I need some work on a proper apology. Apologizing doesn’t mean the wrong is all related to us, but it is taking 100% of the responsibility for the hurt caused.

What does an authentic apology sound like? You certainly know if someone has given you one. You also know if you have labored over one yourself. If nothing comes to mind, we should talk, I can promise you it isn’t because you didn’t owe someone an apology. 

Let’s look closer at a genuine apologies components so we can see how we measure up. There is a beautiful book written by Harriet Lerner called, Why Won’t You Apologize. https://www.amazon.com/Why-Wont-You-Apologize-Betrayals/dp/1501129619/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=why+won%27t+you+apologize&qid=1595790396&sr=8-1  Dr. Lerner says there are nine essential components of an apology. I think it is worth looking briefly at each one.

Number one- a real apology does not include the word “but.” But, are you sure, Harriet? I’m sorry I missed calling you on your birthday, BUT I did bring you a gift. I’m sorry I forgot to bring the salad I promised for the potluck, BUT no one likes salad anyway. I’m sorry I am 45 minutes late, BUT the traffic was terrible. If the word “but” is included, it cancels out the apology. It’s like when you are in a fender bender that is your fault, and you say to the person owning the car you hit, “I’m so sorry I hit your car, but on the bright side, at least you aren’t hurt.” If my car is the one that has been rear-ended, you have just stolen my time and made multiple levels of inconvenience. You can take your “but” and shove it. Thanks, but no thanks for the silver lining. There are no BUT’s in apologizing. 

Number two, a good apology focuses on your actions and not the other person’s response. This one gets a lot of runway miles in the lives of the highly publicized of the world today. After all, if I can get apology credit, but make it about you instead of me, well, that sounds like #winning. Only it isn’t winning because it ISN’T an apology. “I’m sorry you felt hurt. I know you are sensitive. I’m sorry that my joke offended you. I’m sorry I didn’t meet your expectation. I’m sorry that I love this country more than you. I am sorry my financial status is hard for you. I am sorry for your misunderstanding”. These are faux apologies of the worst order. The language we need to use is. “I’m sorry I said something hurtful to you. I’m sorry I didn’t come through on what I said I would do. I’m sorry about the joke I made; it was inappropriate and wrong. It occurred to me that what I’ve been telling you, is not what I have been modeling to you and I’m sorry. I’m sorry about what I called you; it was inappropriate and wrong”.  As you can imagine, this happens so commonly in the workplace, at home, and in the media. It is like taking 25% of the responsibility and laying the other 75% at the feet of whom we have hurt. We would be better off not apologizing at all. 

Number three states that a good apology includes an offer of reparation or restitution that fits the error. Let the punishment fit the crime, after all. Atonement can mean saying, “I will work hard to do better. I will consider your feelings next time. I didn’t value the time of our team, and I’m going to make that a priority going forward”. It can mean replacing something you’ve broken or knowing you have to re-build a trust that is lost. It doesn’t have to be elaborate, it just has to make sense with where you went wrong.

Number four puts a stop to over apologizing. As we discussed above, the over-apologizer cannot help but take something that requires a sincere apology and find 100 different ways to apologize. This forces the recipient into soothing the apologizer to make them feel better.  It takes away from the actual apology itself. For those who naturally fall to a guilty conscience, they desire to be made feel better, but it is an unfair ask. It can look like this. I’m sorry I’m such a bad mother that I didn’t get you what you needed for school. I’m sorry I’m such a bad daughter that I didn’t come to visit you in the hospital. I’m sorry that I’m such a terrible friend that I forgot your special day. This is not an apology; this is a high-jacking of the narrative. 

Number five is one of my personal go-to’s, who is MORE to blame, and who started it? I have trouble owning my piece and who doesn’t like to keep points on all the moments that led to this one. I want to catch you in the middle of the apology with examples of where YOU might have been wrong to head you off at the pass. If you say- “you always,” I will almost certainly site I time when I didn’t.  It becomes a battle of the quicker mind and the sharper tongue. A sincere apology does not require that the other participant know or admit their part. Since we know most fights are about both parties, this makes number five a very humbling task. I can’t bring up the 47 other times when you have been late, forgotten something important, or not done what you said you were going to to flip my apology into being your fault. I can only 100% own what I did. This means I basically have to listen hard and zip it up. 

Number six requires that we try our hardest not to repeat the error. If I have done or said something terrible to hurt someone, but I have no intention of doing it any differently in the future, the apology is a moot point. After all, the goal of the apology is primarily to make the hurt party feel better. It can also make me feel better because it forces me to see myself objectively and take responsibility for my actions. Most importantly, it re-sets our relationship so we can begin again. If there is no actual intention to grow, there is no point in the apology, and our words are wasted. 

Number seven is tough because of my earlier comment about putting things to rest. Our apologies cannot serve to “silence” the other person. We cannot offer an apology, so the person we have hurt will shut up about what happened. A typical scenario related to this is infidelity. When someone has been unfaithful, their apology cannot be with the intention that their spouse has future silence about the cheating and is required to put it to rest. As much as we tire about hearing when we have hurt someone, a true apology does not serve to quiet another.

Number eight coordinates with number seven in whom our apology is serving. A true apology should not be offered to make you, the apologizer, feel better. You may receive this gift after the apology because you have been forgiven.  If you intend to appease your guilt, you are looking at it wrong. The first goal of the apology must be to take ownership and make the hurt party know that you own your error. No matter how guilt-ridden you are, your intention cannot be to soothe yourself.

And at last number nine is that a sincere apology doesn’t ask the hurt party to do ANYTHING. It doesn’t even demand forgiveness. An apology is not a bargaining chip. It doesn’t require a timeline or a process. The hurt party can indeed manipulate an apology with demands, and an absence of forgiveness can send a clear message of the hurt caused.  An apology doesn’t always end the conversation with the neatly packaged bow we so greatly desire. Forgiveness must be disconnected as a requirement of apologizing. 

Apologies are difficult for good reason. When we say “sorry/not sorry,” what we mean is, not sorry. Or for me, I feel guilty, so let me throw together an apology. An apology’s real purpose is to de-escalate, to take ownership as the apologizer, and to allow a relationship to heal. We are told from the time we are very young that we MUST accept apologies when given. That is not true.  We must not use power over when someone apologizes; we must use power with. We must acknowledge when someone is genuinely sorry and recognizes the harm done, but forgiveness is not required. If we can come to a place of forgiveness, we should act accordingly. Keeping someone in forgiveness limbo as a trick is as hurtful as a lousy apology. 

Apologies require us to let down our defensiveness and give up the version of ourselves that imagine that we always do it right. Apologies can explain our behavior without excusing it. Keeping ourselves on a platform of always doing things perfectly becomes a heavy burden and rickety platform that cannot last. It takes a large and steady self-esteem space to make an actual apology.  No apology has meaning if we cannot acknowledge the hurt parties’ pain, even if we don’t understand it.

I’m going to end with this to address my elephant in the room. We all say and do foolish and unforgivable things sometimes. We have our best and worst days, and sometimes the recipient of our worst day is a nameless and faceless victim that doesn’t deserve it. I often find myself making a glib remark and later realizing the hurt I may have caused by my failure to recognize what my statement might mean to someone else. As a nation, we have categorized this as “snowflake” to shield us from the need to apologize.  The language we use in the safety of our homes is often different than what we use publicly. We have spaces to vent in private and areas where more is expected of us, particularly when it comes to family and colleagues. My words to my children about their teachers, family members, and people who help serve our communities matter. My words about my colleagues’ matter.  We teach this to our kids, and our expectations should be the same for ourselves. Using de-humanizing language to anyone at any time requires an authentic and sincere ownership apology. This is a national habit that we must work hard to break. Vilifying someone or a group of people to get ourselves out of a sticky situation or to gain power, is disgusting. This could have been an ask for authentic forgiveness due to a hot headed moment and error in language and judgment. A lesson for ourselves and our children.   The faux apology performed merely attempted to paint the culprit as the victim and force a retort.  I don’t care if you hate that person with every last bone in your body or if you know that person has said as much or worse (see above, there is no scorekeeping).  We are responsible for making better choices than those that have been done to us. Let’s do better.

Do the work, look at it differently, try it a new way

Advice From A Friend: I’m sorry isn’t a phrase of weakness

This week was long and full of bad news, shall we start there? Let’s begin with a life lesson at the expense of none other than me. 

A couple of years ago, I asked each of my children what social issue concerned them most. I like to ask questions like that, and maybe 50% of the time, I get a thoughtful and honest answer. The other 50% of the time, I get eye rolls and these responses, the lack of access to soda in our refrigerator (this remained a problem for them until the extenuating timeline of COVID in which my husband has decided to stock our fridge with each member’s favorite soda.  I continue to maintain a strong stand against, but thank you, Pepsi, for the extra calories and sugar I don’t need because clearly wine and chocolate are no longer enough. I now have a trifecta which only wins in horseracing). I believe I asked the question soon after the Stoneman Douglas Highschool shooting in 2018. There was a ramp-up of practicing safe shooter drills at schools across the country, and the debate on how to keep our schools safe was re-ignited.

I expected the boys to perhaps speak to this issue, but they did not because we can guess all we want what is in our children’s heads and still be surprised by what they tell us. It was my daughter, 5^th grade at the time, who mentioned that this issue was most stressful to her. I shared her pain in the complexity of understanding how this could happen and my inability to relate directly to this form of stress in schools since I did not have it growing up. I work hard at empathy (I hear you) vs. sympathy (look on the bright side) in these situations, but sometimes that leaves them pretty open-ended. Parents want to solve, to find a definitive answer to things that sometimes are not answerable. I’m sure I wrapped it up with some point about doing the good work we can do and not worrying about that which we cannot control (a small nod to childhood anxiety no doubt). She then turned to me and asked, “if you are so worried, what are you doing about school shootings?” GULP enters inner dialogue, “Well, you know I’m crying about it. I’m looking at the beautiful pictures of kids who have prematurely lost their lives and praying for answers. I’m watching vigils and reading Facebook posts from their parents and classmates while trying not to freak out my children. I’m worrying myself to death over it. I’m, well, I’m doing exactly almost nothing. I’m waiting for someone to tell me EXACTLY what to do.” 

I am sure you have heard of the passing of Representative John Lewis this weekend. There are so many beloved words and pictures of him circulating right now. He was well respected and loved by people on all sides of politics and from all walks of life. I knew of him most for his beautiful public nod to Pope Francis regarding a speech he made to Congress and his work in the civil rights movement (I attached him comments at the end of the column). Upon further reading this weekend, I knew only a fraction of all his good works throughout his career. He exemplified a genuine love of serving others, deep faith, and likely his unseen acts towards others were even more meaningful than the ones about which we know. One of his most famous quotes circulating right now is this, “Get in good trouble, necessary trouble, and help redeem the soul of America.” Whether you agree with him or not, he was an action-driven man that certainly seemed to know what to do. Or maybe, he just asked questions and figured it out as he was going along.

I like this idea of good trouble. I’m not relating this to the difference between a protest and a march or toilet papering someone’s yard vs. defacing their property. I’m not even comparing it to one side or another of politics. I’m linking it to the most effective way we collaborate, hear one another, and get things done. It also makes sense to me because I think we can all agree that for meaningful change to occur, some amount of trouble is required. It is tough to look back historically and not acknowledge that significant changes in public consciousness have required some amount of “trouble” whether it be speeches that are tough to swallow, statistics that are tough to wrestle with, photographs you can’t get out of your head, videos that are gut-wrenching to watch or your child calling you out on your lack of action. I am in no way discounting the beauty and necessity of acts like vigils, prayers, or letters to the editor. In the words of Abraham Lincoln, “I have been driven many times upon my knees by the overwhelming conviction that I had nowhere else to go.” And yet, we know Lincoln had to get up from his knees and make difficult decisions and so my friends, do we.  

The questions become: What is an appropriate amount of time to be in contemplation? How do I navigate this in a way that is both meaningful, safe, efficient, and effective? How do I use my voice in the form of “good trouble”? Where do I start? 

Good trouble looks gray because one side will say you are doing too much and the other too little.  In “Three Bears” terms, if you just keep trying different beds, you will find just right, it just might take a while. Good trouble is and should be your own movement;  it doesn’t get owned by a red or a blue allegiance. 

I start by remembering what people in my life I have admired, what characteristics they exemplify, and what actions they have taken. Wrapping our heads around this can help us determine where we are and where we are headed. That’s how leadership can change and get better. The older I am, the more inflammatory our country becomes, the more I reflect on who I have witnessed in my life manage to gain the respect of others, while not compromising their principals and ideals. The easy button has become picking a side because we will undoubtedly benefit from the “leg up” their power and influence can provide. Nothing feels better than agreement. The middle ground or trial and error of trying out the chairs for size feels a little lonely right now because it has been deemed a no man’s land. There are no fancy slogans or soundbites to rely on. How can I get to the answer quickly without a conspiracy theory or news media to feed me? And yet, many of the people I admire in life have done this slow and tedious work without the benefit of a cheerleading crowd.  

What they seem to have in common is, while the spotlight may find them, they are not out looking for it. They have maintained authentic outstretched hands and eyes open and experienced it not as someone slowing them down, but as a necessary component to ensuring their journey is the right one, with all the essential stops and starts. 

Upon deep reflection, (and a Pepsi), I have discovered that what I am looking for right now in myself and others, is humility. It feels grossly lacking in most spaces right now. Though we admire humility and empathy, we teach it to our children and appreciate when one extends it to us or our family, we have specific areas of life where it’s not comfortable for us. Furthermore, we have spaces where we just no longer ask for it. CEO, leader of a large church, medical professional, president of the city council, politician, where’s the room for humility there? After all, they have important work to do.  Well, isn’t that EXACTLY the reason we need it? When did we stop asking for it, and then stop expecting it? Somehow, we decided that humility can be compartmentalized and is only required to exist in the areas where we are acting in a humanitarian capacity, thanking someone for an award or compliment, asking forgiveness, raising our children, or in moments of gratefulness. When we started to give people a “humility pass,” I think we picked the wrong bowl of porridge.

I think in many ways, humility and good trouble go hand in hand. Humility can lead us to a place where we can reflect on what is essential and valuable to us without making it ABOUT us. I think about whom I see as one of the most influential public servants of my lifetime, Mother Teresa. The service and strength that the phenomenal sister and humanitarian showed in her over 40 years of charity are admired by almost all people Christian and non-Christian alike.  Yet, she remained controversial, even in her words and good works. Her words such as, “If you can’t feed 100 people, then just feed one. If you want to change the world, go home, and love your family.” And, “Some people come into your life as blessings, some people come as lessons” are timeless and worthy no matter our circumstance. Her continued works brought her fame she never desired, and with it came people who criticized her intentions. Never did she deter from her work to address their noise, because she wasn’t doing it for their approval.

If humility is a quality that separates the well-intentioned from the powerfully intentioned,  I need to both look for it AND ask for it in others. All the while, understanding that people are, most of the time, doing the very best they can. For me, this means some good trouble. Good trouble often means active struggle and not passive compliance. It means the benefit of the doubt to those whom I don’t know or understand. But, it also means accountability.   If I’m speaking as an authority to or about the marginalized, I better be spending some time serving or participating near those margins because otherwise, I need to shut it. If I’m going to ask the teachers and school staff to teach in a physical classroom in the fall, I better reach out to some educational staff members and find out how they feel about returning and what help looks like. (I encourage you to do this if you have school-age children and are not a school staff member, I have learned a LOT by doing this). If I’m going to authentically commiserate with my daughter regarding the stress of school shooting drills, I better put my money where my mouth is and do more to prevent school shootings. 

It is also holding the leaders and people I love to the same standard that I work hard to maintain myself. I have the right to ask my public leaders, church officials, staff, and businesses where I shop to treat colleagues, employees, and patrons respectfully and in the absence of name-calling, racist/xenophobic statements or actions, finger-pointing and blaming because I hold myself to the same standard. These, for me, are a sign of insecure weakness and shaming tactics that have no room today. I expect that a compassionate leader will give up not only their camera rolling Thanksgiving to serve at a soup kitchen but sometimes their non publicized Thursday night too. If I’m carving out time between my work and family to support organizations I care about and volunteer regularly, well then, I’m going to support, champion, and elect people willing to do the same.  I expect for myself and others that we aren’t always going to get it right.  But, when I make a mistake, don’t consider everyone involved, misspeak, or hurt someone, I can offer an authentic apology and not pass the buck or retaliate upon correction. I don’t expect perfection from myself or anyone else; this is the tough to swallow part of humility. 

This phase is hard. There is no “ideal way” to return to school safely. There is no “perfect plan” to stop gun violence in schools. There is no “perfect candidate.” I can support people who are authentically trying to get it right and understand that they are going to make mistakes too. I can walk away when the name-calling/blaming and shaming talk begins.  I can reach out to front-line workers like teachers and medical staff to inquire about how they feel about the direction we are going and ask what help looks like. I can try to make my decisions with them.   

 I can show my kids what humility looks like so they can find it in themselves and look for it in others. It doesn’t look like a political rant, a meltdown in Sam’s club, a guilt trip about online or in school education decisions, or demanding agreement on buying or not buying the beans (whoever could imagine that would become a thing). It becomes about doing small daily work, and when life asks, something bigger. Now please excuse me while I drink my Pepsi that somehow found its way from my fridge to my hand while I watch one of my favorite videos of humility (French Open 2014, Novak Djokovic)

Breath deep, eyes wide, listen hard

Advice From A Friend: Find your good trouble

John Lewis response to Pope Francis address to the US Congress (2015):

The Holy Father, Pope Francis of the Holy See, delivered a powerful message to Congress and the American people today.  In his humble, gentle way, he used his authority to encourage us all to simply do what is right to protect the dignity of all humankind.  

“He said, ‘All political activity must serve and promote the good of the human person and be based on respect for his or her dignity…Politics is…an expression of our compelling need to live as one, in order to build as one the greatest common good…’

“These words and ideas speak to the center of our work as members of Congress and to the importance and vitality of our roles as individual citizens. Pope Francis delivered one of the most moving speeches I have ever heard in all my years in Congress.  I loved the way he used the life and work of President Abraham Lincoln, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., Dorothy Day and Thomas Merton as the basis of his lesson for all of us.

“Though I was reluctant to openly shed tears, I cried within to hear his words.  I was deeply moved to realize I had a connection in some way with some of those he mentioned. When TIME magazine, years ago, did a story on “living saints,” they actually included Dorothy Day and I in the story.  Also Thomas Merton was a monk whose words I studied during non-violence training in the Civil Rights Movement. It was amazing that the Pope mentioned the Selma-to-Montgomery march because during the first attempt to march to Montgomery, now known as Bloody Sunday, I carried one of Thomas Merton’s books in my backpack.

“Pope Francis spoke to the heart and soul of Congress and America.  It is my hope and prayer that members of Congress will heed his simple call to respect the dignity and divinity of every human being then we would be better servants of the American people, this would be a better country, and a better world.”              -Rep. John Lewis

I hope this week finds you in cooler temperatures and lower COVID numbers. You are likely in the same position many of us are, making decisions about school, sports, work, finances, and how to maintain personal sanity. It seems the merry-go-round continues to go around. My desire for my kids to return to normalcy is strong and my desire for their safety and the safety of others equally so. There is no easy button here?

I think one reason we are driven to return kids to as normal life as possible is because of the changes we see in their physical and mental health. Some of this is related to their inability to participate and excel in the traditional ways they always have. It feels incredible to win the game for the team, to be recognized with an award, to be singled out by a compliment, to pass a test you were set up to fail, to be told well done, to be gifted at something, and to be genuinely complimented. For some people, particularly achievers, it becomes like crack cocaine when given in a steady stream. We want an IV of it because it feels so good. When we don’t have our fix, we start to get a little lost. But are all things that feel good, good for us? 

Research is abundant in this area right now. Recognition, being deemed as exceptional, winning, being someone’s favorite, it makes us feel worthy and secure, at least temporarily. It is also a common way we parent. We want to raise children that feel loved, secure, and capable. If we are the parent of a child with an exceptional quality recognized by others, even better. Not only does it fill our child with pride, but it fills us too.  None of us are above the feeling of gratification we get when someone in our family does something recognizable. There is nothing wrong with this.  We may think as adults, we no longer desire this, but the research says otherwise. At one of its elementary levels, who doesn’t love a fantastic party trick you can dazzle your friends with (I have no amazing party trick, all I want is to be able to stick my leg up the wall in full on split, answer someone in perfect Japanese or whip out a total obscure verifiable sports statistic amid football talk). Is there any better feeling than making a fantastic complimentary worthy meal for your neighbor, diagnosing the problem of someone’s car trouble and saving thousands of dollars, or conveniently being able to pull the band-aid out of your purse when a stranger’s child is in dire need. The dilemma is, this can become a hamster wheel that we can’t get off. 

For many of us, the COVID virus, fear of contagion, and time at home forced us off the hamster wheel.  Suddenly there was no stage, no court, no arena, no awards ceremony, no championship game, no board members to be physically in front of, no one to dazzle at work, no dinner parties, no amazing surgery to perform, and no use for the band-aid in your glovebox. There was no escape from the S-P-A-C-E, and it was in this way, QUIET.

How was this for you? How was it for your family? Did you learn that going from 100% on to 100% off was a disaster? Did you find the welcome relief you were looking for? Much of this depends on specifics like ages of children and dispositions, but insomuch as it deserves, let’s take a moment to consider the components of its blessings and its unpleasantness. 

For many of us, we are told so many things along our path about how to do it. We are given a checklist early as to how to ensure we will be well rounded, kind, and financially stable individuals that contribute to society and how to raise our children with the same recipe card. In our box-checking, we need a focus on health, competition, education, creativity, service, and spiritual growth. We opt in some earned wins, some substantial losses, and just enough boundaries to keep us all on track. We orchestrate the avenues, look for deficits, and fill the schedule.  We imagine this “Mission Accomplished” banner at the end of this and a full feeling of satisfaction that we have done our job. But when I ask people whose children are grown and moved on, they don’t speak of their children’s long list of childhood accomplishments or busy schedules; they talk more about the challenges in watching their children navigate in a world off the hamster wheel. A desire, in the words of David Brooks, of seeing contribution vs. acquisition.   They talk more about the regrets of doing and worrying too much and missing connection due to the pressure of developing budding talents and the fear of missing out.  

Our desire to raise active, engaged and accomplished children becomes a job in itself. Depending on our track of focus, academics, sports, the arts, and/or leadership, we start to navigate the ways of exceptionality by using tactics like extended time, social positioning, and money. We fill some holes that maybe we lacked in our upbringing, we look to our peers and ultimately, we do the best we can with what we’ve got. We try to connect the dots for our child in the places we see a weakness to ensure their ultimate road to success. Then suddenly our track was disrupted and we were forced home. 

When your child had their center stage taken from them, what was left? When you had it taken from you, how did you feel?  Did it leave you with feelings of insecurity, lack of purpose, or general malaise? Was getting off the hamster wheel a break from the burden of performance or was it a restful space where you figured out that your unique and exceptional qualities have nothing to do with your performance, your A+, your winning of the championship, your promotion, your bonus or your class rank. I do not say that to minimize any of those accomplishments.  COVID was and still is a reminder that our life is not a finite track upward. Our life is more like a windy road that sometimes requires three steps forward, two steps back and a lot of standing in one place.  Our experience is meant to have S-P-A-C-E, and our worthiness is inherent (not earned).

I recently read an article about human flourishing, which reminded me of Rick Warren’s book, A Purpose Driven Life. I remember, as you might too, reading this book in the early 2000s. It was about simplifying, living purposefully, and spiritually. It was about figuring out what the heck you are doing here and living intentionally. In the same vein, the article reminded me that human flourishing is about finding meaning and experience in our life and our work (this doesn’t mean income-generating work, think of it more like vocation). This “work” allows satisfaction and accomplishment through its engagement of our faculties. It forces our empathy, compassion, temperance, grit, and industriousness. It is what we are looking for when we fill our and our children’s schedules with activities and to-do’s, but I fear we aren’t leaving room for the real “work” to begin. 

Space can be a confusing place, particularly for achievers. When life is an endless to-do list of furthering physical skills, intellectual capacity, and creative genius, that daily footrace will keep us focused and ensure that we continue to search for worthiness externally instead of internally. This sounds all well and good until you realize that living your life on a hamster wheel indoctrinates you to believe that without the hamster wheel, you are somehow lesser. 

What did you witness in yourself and your children with a forced stay at home? Did you feel a loss, did your kids feel a loss? Was it a loss in connection, or was it a loss in worthiness related to accomplishment? Worthiness is a double-edged sword. When we believe the hype that we must earn our worthiness or that our worthiness is a direct result of exceptional qualities or accolades, we will never want off the hamster wheel, and too much space will feel daunting. 

In my family, I witnessed losses and wins with COVID. One of the casualties was in connection. My entire family missed our built-in physical connections with friends, teammates, co-workers, and even acquaintances.  Though our family connections grew stronger, and we continued to use resources like zoom and even socially distant gatherings with others, it wasn’t the same. Connection is critical to human beings, and at some level, that means physical presence and physical touch. This, for me, weighs heavily on our decision-making regarding school in the fall. 

The win was in S-P-A-C-E.  My kids had more time to think and consider. Due to the current political climate, we had more time to discuss all kinds of social issues and room to hash it out. Our “work” looked different because it was based more on critical thinking conversations and the joys an idle mind can fill with contemplative wonderment.  We were forced to articulate with our tabletop conversations game because we had no-where to be and no exciting rundowns from our day at home. ( Teen table topics was a gift from a friend, and I love it https://www.amazon.com/TABLETOPICS-Teen-Questions-Start-Conversations/dp/B003BQXDVI/ref=asc_df_B003BQXDVI/?tag=hyprod-20&linkCode=df0&hvadid=312106963599&hvpos=&hvnetw=g&hvrand=2457644541635491722&hvpone=&hvptwo=&hvqmt=&hvdev=c&hvdvcmdl=&hvlocint=&hvlocphy=9026831&hvtargid=pla-526768349252&psc=1 )

There is nothing like a pandemic to make one reflective. I started thinking about why my kids didn’t experience such a loss in worthiness with staying home for weeks on end. Many years ago, when we were in the chaos of children under 12, multiple extensive sports, elementary activities (book fairs, ice cream socials, music performances), church activities and family commitments, a friend of mine reminded me of the importance of what I was “saying” to my kids about their worthiness. His words were gentle but unforgettable. Though I might say with words that my children’s true worthiness and space were not related to participation in activities and sports, their winning and losing, their continued attendance at things, my actions said otherwise. My commitment to this pace of life was telling them that their worthiness came from all of these external things and that space was at the end of the list. Though my husband and I had no shortage of positive words, most of them were related to their activities and often, how they could do just a little bit better. There was not a lot of room for thoughtful conversation or idle thinking because we had A LOT to do. 

What I needed was a reminder that I could change the hamster wheel experience in a variety of ways. It was hard to see because I was too busy surviving it. It didn’t have to be a hamster wheel; it could be a treadmill that I could speed up and slow down. I didn’t have to give it all up, but we had some decisions to make. These decisions weren’t just related to our kids and their schedule, they were associated with Mike, and I’s too. We were all a part of this family, and we each needed room for what we wanted and not at the sacrifice of one another. For those that run to the defense that the club sport, study time, or activity where you spend a tremendous amount of time is developing your child in exceptional ways, I’m not in disagreement with you. But, we also have to consider the sacrifice in the same way we consider the positives and negatives of quarantining at home.  For us, the sacrifice was too high; we needed a move and a change in the way we looked at it. Through the years, we started looking at each commitment individually and its effect on the entirety. What would that commitment mean for my child, for the Uber drivers (Mike and I),  for our time together and for their development into what we were moving towards?  I started talking more about my kid’s worthiness related to their internal qualities (I call them spiritual gifts). I started focusing not their baseball swing, their foot speed, their A’s, their theatre performance and more about how much I love the way they can patiently wait for me when I tell them 2 minutes when they know it will be 10, or how much I appreciate they are not intimidated by defending themselves in a disagreement, or about how I love that they want to step in when another openly mistreats a classmate.

This has been pretty life-changing for our family. The switch from a high-pressure conveyor belt to the treadmill allowed us more time to choose dedicatedly. It allowed us more control over speed, and it allowed us space to decide when we just needed to jump off for a while. It also allowed us more time to talk about what a purposeful life might look like and how finding what we are meant to do can be rewarding in ways that don’t have a price tag.  What I saw in my kids was a new power in their agency to make decisions like, I don’t want to go to summer camp, or I did that club sport for a couple of years, but I’m ready for more time to try something new or take a break. I want to try this youth group for a while; I think I want to sit that activity out because I just need a little time for myself. This required some give-ups for my husband and me and for them. Sometimes, it was pretty infuriating. This space eventually revealed in them a level of gratefulness and more maturity than what we had seen before.  It allowed a deeper awareness of their self-image and their faults, limitations, and strengths.  These became less scary and more an accepted part of self. They started to look at friendship and relationships differently. They began to look more at who they were suitable for and who was good for them. This can take a hit in terms of popularity and relevance. It’s tough to be popular when you are less involved and give up being the harmonious cheerleader when you have figured out someone is not good for you. It can mean a shorter list of accomplishments on the college application, less willingness to be a self-aggrandizer, a lower GPA, and a higher bs meter. It means you must learn how to recharge yourself, and that time to recharge is good (and doesn’t mean via electronics). 

This sounds conflicting because it is TOUGH. I will tell you that more than once I have wondered if we made the right choice here. I am not saying that our kids can’t be committed and full force members of club teams or multiple activities, but I’m saying that not to weigh it all out and make the best decision for your entire family is short sighted. To believe that raising a person with addiction for external worthiness won’t need to be reckoned with later is naïve.  To not recognize that we can define work in ways beyond income or status is more relevant today than it ever has been. 

As my oldest enters his senior year, I sometimes wonder, maybe we should have gone full force high-level accomplishment.  We could have easily forced the stacking of his college application by demanding more. But then I think of the countless examples of our intentionality in not doing this and how it changed us. I will end with one of my favorites. 

A few years ago, my oldest child won an award at school. His wall is not busting at the seams with awards and certificates so I was feeling pretty good for him. When he found out he had won the award and who had given it to him, it took him about 5 seconds to say- “I didn’t deserve this award mom. Honestly, there were about five kids in my class that deserved that award before I did.” Clearly, I did what every mother does in those situations, I said, “Of course you deserved the award, who gives an award to someone who doesn’t deserve it?”. But then I thought about it, I thought about the times he has won something deservedly. He always knows the difference because, well, kids know these things. So, I altered my testimony later and said, “You know, sometimes in life we are given something we don’t deserve, and sometimes we aren’t given something we do. I like to think it evens out, but I’m not sure it does for everyone. Perhaps she saw something in you that you did not see yourself, something uncommon, or maybe she just felt like she needed to throw you a bone. It feels really good when you earn something deservedly, and I’m proud you know the difference. Either way, let’s be grateful, take a picture, and celebrate.” And laughed and said, “Yes, we both know it could be a while before this happens again, so it looks like ice cream is in order.” My pride became not about the award, but about his maturity in knowing he didn’t earn it. That meant more than a wall full of awards. 

Take a moment, be intentional, look at the whole picture

Advice From A Friend: You don’t have to be on the hamster wheel

Happy 4^th of July weekend everyone! I hope your weekend was full of good food and festivities. For most of us, this 4^thof July was so different than what we might typically do. This still feels hard. 

When you were young, did you experience the “scare the living daylights” parenting strategies when it came to potentially dangerous situations?  If you are in your 40’s-50’s, maybe you would just be driving along in the car with your mom and see some old refrigerator sitting outside in someone’s front yard. She would pull over the car and say something like, “Don’t you ever even go near an old refrigerator. Do you know it will grab you, pull you into it, and the door will close, and you will never get out? No one will know you are in there. You will die in a refrigerator.” If you are like me, you would have never considered putting yourself in a refrigerator (who does that?), but you recognize that this is a fairly supreme hiding place. Your mom was protecting you from the cliff. She heard a news story about a child being trapped in an old refrigerator; she had a parental responsibility to scare you away from the fridge. 

Another example from my childhood is the “stranger danger” movement. This movement was massive. People were coming for you; it was real. The ice cream person was going to lure you in with a free push-pop. Any van that wasn’t your friend Kathy’s was to be feared. If you saw a van, especially a creepy white van, you should just run the other way because the driver was sure to lure you with candy and a puppy. Walking home after school in the rain, some nice lady stops to offer you a ride; you better be READY.  We practiced this at school, use your safe word, run away, make as much noise as possible. Our fear was used to help us avoid danger. 

These measures were effective for kids like me because I believed and trusted my parents. I was, in general terms, scared of dangerous things. When you grow up in a small town, you know most of the people. It’s pretty easy to spot a stranger when you know everyone. When you went to larger cities, you put yourself on high alert; this is where the danger was. We have talked before about actual danger and discomfort. The difference is sometimes a harsh lesson. 

When I first moved to Texas, I got a flat tire on my way home from work on a rainy and dark night on a busy highway. It was around a time when there were reports of men hiding in the back of women’s cars to abduct them. I had already checked all my safety boxes, looked while walking in the covered garage parking lot at work for anyone lurking under my car, clearly glanced in the backseat as I approached the vehicle as instructed by the news. I was safe on those fronts, but here I was with a flat tire, on a highway, at night.  I called my husband; he was about 40 minutes away from me. He offered to come, but I knew how to change a tire (and I’m impatient), so I decided to change it myself. I don’t know if I didn’t know about AAA, or if I didn’t have it, but it didn’t occur to me to call someone else to help. When I was about half-way through, a man stopped to help me. I went on high alert; this man was a stranger and was out to get me. I told him that I was fine, and he needed to get back in his car and drive away immediately. He looked flabbergasted and apologetic as he hurried back to his car. I continued, in the rain, on the side of a busy highway, to change the tire by myself, upset that I hadn’t made my husband come but too prideful to change my mind. If you look up idiot move in the dictionary, this was one of those.  My discomfort with a stranger helping me or just waiting for my husband was stronger than the actual danger of changing a tire at night on the side of a highway. I would do that one a little differently now. 

For my kids, the methods are similar, but the issues different. I find myself addressing drug addiction by telling my kids stories of perfectly healthy people who had an accident, tried hydrocodone, loved it, and then became addicted. While this scenario is actual (and I’ve seen it happen to teenagers more times than I want to know about), the reality is, most people take pain medications after surgery for the appropriate time to control their pain, stop taking them and return to their very normal lives. Probably the bigger one now is the reality of sex trafficking. The internet is lurking with pedophiles just waiting to set up a meeting time with our kids, pick them up, and swipe them into a world of drugs and prostitution.  It is sickening. I’m not making light of it, not at all. We have statistics to prove it and even examples in our communities. Our collective response in all of these dangerous areas has been an education in how to prevent this from happening.  Online gaming with strangers? No chance. Social media? Not without hefty supervision. Keep your kids off pornography sites (no computers in your room), fears about teenage suicide (lock up your medications and guns and monitor for signs of depression), bullying (keep a pulse on your kids, their friends and report any questionable behavior at the smallest of indications that your child is bullied at school). It’s a wonder how we sleep at night; it seems the landmines are everywhere. All of these issues are very real and happen every day, all over, to all families.  That’s what makes this so hard. How do we manage all of this and sleep soundly at night?

Feeling like every next step is off a cliff is a hard way to live.  It is a hard way to parent, to work, to be in a relationship, or to lead. I fear that what we have done is planted more and more landmines for ourselves EVERYWHERE. These have seeped into all aspects of our lives. 

There is a constant source of fuel to this fire on the news, social media, print articles, in conversations with family and friends, and in policies.  There are Amber alerts, daily briefings, graphs and charts, statistics, and studies continually bombarding us with information to consider. We feel this need each time to stop and say, am I worrying enough, too much, should I do this or that or NOTHING. There is a constant sense of danger and urgency that turns our discomfort to fear. Why not scare other people too? At least then we won’t be alone.  Nothing feels better than when you are super freaked out about something, and you find someone to join in your plight. 

I wonder if that is why we seem to have turned in the direction of labeling and assumptions? We have this unusual attraction now to assuming that every conservative is a white supremacist, that every liberal is a socialist, that every Christian is a sheep in wolf’s clothing, that every non-religious person is out to remove our ability to worship, that no politician can be trusted, that if you support Black Lives Matter, you are a Marxist, that if you support All Lives Matter, you are racist,  that if you kneel you are anti-American, if you stand you don’t support minorities, that every common-sense gun lobbyist is anti-gun (I am a common-sense gun law supporter, AND we have guns at our house so am living example that this isn’t the case). This seems to have become our easy button to name call, compartmentalize, and make quick decisions on who and what we label “safe” vs. “dangerous.” It elicits the same reaction as the refrigerator in the front yard. Common sense would say I’m not going to jump out of the car and hide in a fridge, but the voice from the newscaster paints a different story. 

I don’t think this is serving us well in many capacities anymore.  We are all real people. We aren’t in a movie (though it feels like we are) or a part of some political commercial. We have risks to weigh, decisions to make, and things to thoughtfully consider.  From the teenage example above, I have to weigh the risk of my child becoming addicted to drugs or being abducted, make some decisions about safety that make sense, do some real parenting and re-evaluate as I get more TRUE information. If someone tells me the story of their child and addiction, I have to listen hard and glean from the wisdom of that person’s experience. However, me coming home with a natural assumption that my child is also addicted to drugs is not helpful.

In the same way, I can’t look at my co-worker, store manager, or pharmacist and because I saw them wearing a MAGA hat determine that they deserve the worst of me. I can’t decide that the person I’m following with the BLM bumper sticker deserves my middle finger.  These small acts plant a landmine and make significant ripple effects. 

Let’s start, as we usually do, with the facts. A Hitler like character is not going to resurrect and take over this country (no matter which party wins the upcoming elections). We aren’t going to suddenly become a socialist nation or become a country like The Handmaid’s Tale, where we march around in red outfits and keep our eyes downcast if we are women (under his eye). My teenager isn’t going to wake up tomorrow and seek out drugs because it’s Monday. Though these threats may FEEL real, especially when someone tries to paint them as if they ARE real, these threats are no more real than the refrigerator jumping out and locking me in. We have far more ability to navigate this process with eyes open and confident steps than we would like to admit. We misread people, situations, and have unconscious biases- not particular people, all people. This is our human nature. 

Marketing works, what we hear and see impacts how we shop, what we say and how we think. It is why companies and lobbyists still spend millions of dollars a year on advertising; we are not above this despite our political views, families, wealth, or education.  Our messaging that the cliff is always one step away, is a convenient message for organizations and people at extremes to convince us of whatever they would like. If we are scared, we will listen (I was a reasonably savvy kid, and I was afraid every time a stranger rolled down a window to talk to me). 

Living takes a balance of weighing what we know (facts), wisdom we have gained through successes and failures, advice from people we trust (accepting instruction at times), and sometimes we still get it wrong. When we don’t take it all into consideration, we move toward allowing others to convince us that what is right for them is right for us. If I pretend like news sources are giving me 100% of the story 100% of the time, I’m discounting what I know.  In the same way, if when I hear every harrowing story from another parent, I jump to the conclusion that inevitably we are sure to experience the same, I’m not helping myself be a better parent.  The news media make decisions related to ratings, power, and money. I’m not criticizing this, it’s true in healthcare, in government, in business, and in most churches. They are employers; they have stockholders, bottoms lines, and money to make. This doesn’t make them the Darth Vadar character in the narrative.  It doesn’t mean they can’t provide me information or services, but the idea that they are leading with selfless concern for my well-being is not practical or accurate.  

This information isn’t actually scary; it’s strangely freeing. I don’t want to live like every step is right next to a cliff.  I can trust part of what you say and not all of it. I can use what you tell me and consider it before I decide what to disregard and what to use. I can agree with my church/political party/ company on some things and not all things.  I can take control of my media/social media. I can block, snooze, follow, or unfollow without guilt or obligation. I can disregard reports or statistics that don’t make sense to me, ask questions, and grapple with it. I don’t owe you immediate articulation as to why I’m changing my mind. I can bring some people in closer because I need and trust them more right now and move other people to arms lengths.  I can do this as much as I want for the rest of my days. It doesn’t mean I have to exit; it doesn’t have to be an all or nothing. I can say I don’t want to talk about a particular topic with you or I can ask you ten more questions because I do. My discomfort doesn’t mean I am in danger. I can still believe that we are a world full of good humans who love, care for each other, and though we do not agree, want the best for all of us. I can still believe that, with a MAGA hat, a black lives matter sign, a science is real t-shirt, a Love Jesus bumper sticker, at a women’s rights march and with a mask on or off. 

Walk with assurance, stretch wide, practice compassion

Advice from a friend: Living in a state of fear doesn’t win us anything