I’m back friends!!!!! It is week 21 of our journey, and I hope you all are hanging in there. I needed a little reset to get myself ready for the adventure ahead. For our family, this means return to school, some activities, an increase in work, and lots of unknowns. The timing couldn’t have been better as I have six zoom calls and a volunteer activity next week outside of work. It’s deep breathing time.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, my son just finished his first stab at his college application essay. Even writing or saying that makes my heart feel equal amounts of excitement and sadness. His theme is about a time of loneliness, and I am in pieces. We spend this tremendous amount of time laying groundwork with our kids to help them develop and mature. We want them to learn from mistakes, to guard them against dangerous cliffs, and to prod them along this journey without lawnmowing or helicoptering. We should be doing the same thing for ourselves. After all, even in adulthood or even more in adulthood, we need the work. If we could only bring our best self into every interaction we have, there is no question; our lives would look very different. Our relationships would be better, our communication more transparent, and our stress levels lower. But this among the list of impossible asks (like expecting a regular school year). It’s re-framing time, or in my case, I like to call it, lower the bar time. This usually changes my perspective just enough to better roll with the punches and give myself and others the grace they need and deserve. Maybe the fact that I didn’t always have the right words, or respond the ideal way, is actually why my son can write an essay about loneliness. After all, loneliness is a normal and inevitable experience. It helps us to realize why we work hard for love and connection. Reading a 17-year-old reflect on moments of joy and moments of loneliness will either a) take you under or b) force a re-frame. I’m going with B Pat (Sajak).
I read a newspaper article many years ago about a family whose father was elderly (over 85) had survived his wife, cancer, and a myriad of other things. He had all the conditions that are common in older adults, beginning memory lapses, poor balance, a long list of medications, high blood pressure, and neuropathy. He had come in the office with his son for a re-check. His regular physician was out of the office, so he had some fresh eyes. The new doctor recommended another medication and some rehab. The elderly gentlemen looked apathetic and didn’t say much while the son took charge in a sort of, I love you enough to take charge, kind of way. Noticing the tune out by the elderly man and the zealous nature of the loving son, the physician said, “What is most important to you, sir, at this phase of your life.” The man turned, brightened, and said, “I want to stop going to the doctor and enjoy my life at home with some visits from my family.” The son was amazed; he had not heard his father speak so directly about what he wanted. The physician said, “Okay, let’s see what that looks like and make that happen.”
Life is a lot about laying groundwork, having the best of intentions, and realizing we can’t always get it right. No question the son loved his father, so much so, he was taking him for his doctor visit. But for the elderly father, what did love look like? Love is about intention and mistakes, more intention, and more mistakes. Love looks a lot of ways, but more often then ever, it looks messy. For me, love looks like looking at a homeless person in the eye and smiling, visiting with a neighbor that I do not politically agree with and offering to help, wiping the food off a dribbling elderly parents mouth, hugging your teenager although you are not proud of the way they are acting, answering the phone call when you don’t have the time for the conversation, forgiving yourself when you get it wrong, bringing in “c” level participation sometimes because you needed a breath to regather, more than you needed to show up with “a” level involvement, showing up for someone who you know is slipping when there are 1,000 other places you’d like to go and not apologizing for whatever way it is that you are doing your best. Love looks like listening to your elderly parent when they say that they are ready to do this differently and not personalizing it when your child reminds you that they are not always happy or grateful. When things are falling apart, love looks like standing there and sometimes watching them fall.
There was a part of me, the idealistic section, no doubt, that believed that start of school might bring a fresh new wind to us. We would have something else to focus on and maybe even be excited about. Except it doesn’t look the way we’d like and unknown equals scary, which translates to reactive for most of us. It helps me to call a spade a spade in these moments. The start of school is going to be bumpy and frustrating. We are going to debate, argue, and see every single thing politicized until November (and likely after that). We will continue to get thrown statistics that paint only part of one story, listen to leaders tell us their version of what we should believe, see a LOT of fake news, wonder who took the masks out of the car as we turn around to go back home to get more and still have to figure out what is for dinner as we stare a big pile of laundry in the face. Financial instability is staring lots of people right in the face right now, work status is changing, schooling must be navigated differently, and life is reaching a new level of hard. Adding to that, my typical 5-day late birthday cards, will surely now be EVEN later because I can’t seem ever to make that happen on a great timeline when our postal system is working seamlessly. It might be time for adorable e-cards. This is a moment our love is tested, and we cannot turn away, we must turn toward.
Turning towards does not mean solving. It does not mean having all the answers, not acknowledging how hard this is, or beating ourselves up because we didn’t get it right. It does not mean feeling guilty for your privilege or not feeling tired and overwhelmed. Turning toward means we can say, this is the worst, what do I need to do to get through so I can operate at my best capacity (which maybe 50%). Turning toward can mean, just wiping the food off someone’s face and not worrying about who is going to do it next time, taking the phone call, thanking the teacher even though it isn’t the one you wanted, not reading the Facebook post, cereal for dinner, reading some fiction, watching a comedy, lowering the bar or reading your son’s essay or listening to your father speak about what he wants and realizing that it’s not personal.
If we spend our time running away and dodging, we will miss the genuine moments of love, where we find ourselves among it, sitting with it and learning from it. Running your father around to 100 doctor appointments isn’t more loving than sitting quietly with him at home. Publicly throwing shade on your school, your workplace, your leaders, or your family doesn’t mean you care more than if you decide to write an email, make a phone call or find a way to channel what you are looking for. Love doesn’t have to be public or loud; it doesn’t have to look the same, but it does have to be intentional, and it also has to be cultivated for your own self.
What if we instead just welcomed the discomfort for a while in the act of love. We wear the mask even though we hate it, we leave the person in the grocery store alone who isn’t wearing one, we give our school system some grace, we look at our change in finances as a place to re-prioritize, and we don’t keep raising the bar for ourselves or others. We don’t stop talking, but maybe our voice is quiet and intentional instead of overwhelming and demanding. What if we don’t equate doing more, to loving more. Looking at our nation’s history is like me looking at my parenting history, full of mistakes, twists, and bends I’m not proud of but also full of apologies, work to do betters, and moments of great joy in growth. In the words of the great Maya Angelo, “When we know better, we do better.” In the words of the also great Dolly Parton, “And you just do stuff not realizing, but as soon as you realize that it is a problem, you should fix it. Don’t be a dumbass.”
Love means we can disagree and still love each other, that is turning toward. Love realizes that no one can know how we feel unless we tell them what we need. Love makes me look my son in the eye and say, this was hard to read, I am proud of you and I love you. Love does not require us to solve, but love does not look away. If you want to do better, start with loving yourself. Whatever that looks like can be intentionally shared with others.
Advice From A Friend: Love starts with you
