Whale Watching

On a recent trip to Maine, I went on a whale watch tour.  I jokingly, but with some honesty, said to my husband, “If we don’t see any whales today I want my money back.”  Maybe 10 minutes later the marine biologist came on the speaker to welcome us on our voyage and remarked, “Please remember, we are going into the whale’s natural habitat.  We may or may not encounter them. They are not in a tank at Seaworld.  This is nature, and we can’t control it.”

My heart both sank and lept for joy with those words – “This is nature, and we can’t control it.”  The sinking is because I really want to control it. Don’t you?  I’m ashamed to admit it, but it’s so real. And if I break down my need for “control,” what I really want is something I can count on. I don't want the shock or surprise of pain and disappointment.  So I work hard to maintain a needed outcome. I write a lot about my self observations with some sense of shame, and I really want to point out this time that I am human and offer grace to myself in this awareness of control. Of course I want to control things - my past story tells me that chaos is always coming, so I must do my best to avoid it.  I must avoid the conflict and pain.  If I do a, b and c, then I won't have to suffer the hurt or disappointment.  I can give myself lots of compassion for feeling that way and also be aware I want another way.  So when the biologist said those magic words, I  felt released from the burden that “it’s all up to me.”  What freedom there was here on this sea knowing I didn’t have to say, do, or fix anything to make whales appear.  I don’t have that power. I can just sit, watch, wait, hope. I could also trust I would be okay if they didn't appear. But you know what, they did show up. 

I’m thinking about this in all areas of my life – how hard I work to fix, take care of, pursue, achieve, etc. to get a desired outcome and to tackle issues that feel as big as whales because I believe it's all up to me.  What if I pause? What if I wait in hopeful anticipation? What if I rest while the “whales” are swimming through their own forces of nature?  What if I could trust that process?  

We also learned that for every “blow” a whale gave and the number of times they surfaced, when they finally took their dive below, they would usually be under water for about 1 minute per blow they took.  So 5 blows = about 5 minutes under water. This is their breath – the needed oxygen they need to take the plunge and search for food.  They store it up as resources to do their work.  Everything in nature knows breath is the key component for life.  We rest to work.  We receive oxygen to use it.   I have been missing some breaths. I am taking plunges without breathing first.  And I’ve been coming up gasping for air most days. Again, I have compassion for myself in this. I've taken on a lot as a new mom of 3 at once, and I just want to do everything well and keep everyone okay.  It's normal to feel that way.  And it's also exhausting.

I am learning when I sit back and don’t try so hard, that’s when I take a breath.  The more breaths I take, the longer I can function.   I’m aware of my need for control and short temper with my kids when I haven’t gotten enough oxygen.  My body can’t draw on any reserves for compassion and patience.  It’s as if my demand for order is really my body’s demand for rest.  When I frustratingly ask my kids “Why do I have to tell you so many times to ________,” I’m really asking, “When can I get some rest” or “When will I get a break?” And here’s the thing – they can’t give that to me. I HAVE TO BREATHE.  I HAVE TO REST.  That’s up to me – not them.  And I can’t keep expecting myself to take a dive under water if I haven’t stored up oxygen. I’m just drowning.

On our way back to the pier that day, we encountered an unexpected whale surface.  The biologist excitedly shared how uncommon it was to see a whale in this part of the sea.  We were all just enjoying our boat ride back and were given nature's gift of one more sighting.  There is so much joy to experience after resting, waiting, breathing.   I am keeping those whales close to my heart to remind me of my own beauty – that with my breath I can truly see myself and others, and I have more to offer those I love.  I’m not powerful enough to pay money or achieve all the tasks in the world to make a whale appear, keep life predictable, or keep everyone I love free of pain and disappointment. Nature tells me I must breathe before diving, and that I must trust the process of life. It’s not all up to me.

Whale Watching

On a recent trip to Maine, I went on a whale watch tour.  I jokingly, but with some honesty, said to my husband, “If we don’t see any whales today I want my money back.”  Maybe 10 minutes later the marine biologist came on the speaker to welcome us on our voyage and remarked, “Please remember, we are going into the whale’s natural habitat.  We may or may not encounter them. They are not in a tank at Seaworld.  This is nature, and we can’t control it.”

My heart both sank and lept for joy with those words – “This is nature, and we can’t control it.”  The sinking is because I really want to control it. Don’t you?  I’m ashamed to admit it, but it’s so real. And if I break down my need for “control,” what I really want is something I can count on. I don't want the shock or surprise of pain and disappointment.  So I work hard to maintain a needed outcome. I write a lot about my self observations with some sense of shame, and I really want to point out this time is that I am human and offer grace to myself in this awareness of control. Of course I want to control things - my past story tells me that chaos is always coming, so I must do my best to avoid it.  I must avoid the conflict and pain.  If I do a, b and c, then I won't have to suffer the hurt or disappointment.  I can give myself lots of compassion for feeling that way and also be aware I want another way.  So when the biologist said those magic words, I  felt released from the burden that “it’s all up to me.”  What freedom there was here on this sea knowing I didn’t have to say, do, or fix anything to make whales appear.  I don’t have that power. I can just sit, watch, wait, hope. I could also trust I would be okay if they didn't appear. But you know what, they did show up. 

I’m thinking about this in all areas of my life – how hard I work to fix, take care of, pursue, achieve, etc. to get a desired outcome and to tackle issues that feel as big as whales because I believe it's all up to me.  What if I pause? What if I wait in hopeful anticipation? What if I rest while the “whales” are swimming through their own forces of nature?  What if I could trust that process?  

We also learned that for every “blow” a whale gave and the number of times they surfaced, when they finally took their dive below, they would usually be under water for about 1 minute per blow they took.  So 5 blows = about 5 minutes under water. This is their breath – the needed oxygen they need to take the plunge and search for food.  They store it up as resources to do their work.  Everything in nature knows breath is the key component for life.  We rest to work.  We receive oxygen to use it.   I have been missing some breaths. I am taking plunges without breathing first.  And I’ve been coming up gasping for air most days. Again, I have compassion for myself in this. I've taken on a lot as new mom of 3 at once, and I just want to do everything well and keep everyone okay.  It's normal to feel that way.  And it's also exhausting.

I am learning when I sit back and don’t try so hard, that’s when I take a breath.  The more breaths I take, the longer I can function.   I’m aware of my need for control and short temper with my kids when I haven’t gotten enough oxygen.  My body can’t draw on any reserves for compassion and patience.  It’s as if my demand for order is really my body’s demand for rest.  When I frustratingly ask my kids “Why do I have to tell you so many times to ________,” I’m really asking, “When can I get some rest” or “When will I get a break?” And here’s the thing – they can’t give that to me. I HAVE TO BREATHE.  I HAVE TO REST.  That’s up to me – not them.  And I can’t keep expecting myself to take a dive under water if I haven’t stored up oxygen. I’m just drowning.

On our way back to the pier that day, we encountered an unexpected whale surface.  The biologist excitedly shared how uncommon it was to see a whale in this part of the sea.  We were all just enjoying our boat ride back and were given nature's gift of one more sighting.  There is so much joy to experience after resting, waiting, breathing.   I am keeping those whales close to my heart to remind me of my own beauty – that with my breath I can see truly see myself and others, and I have more to offer those I love.  I’m not powerful enough to pay money or achieve all the tasks in the world to make a whale appear, keep life predictable, or keep everyone I love free of pain and disappointment. Nature tells me I must breathe before diving, and that I must trust the process of life. It’s not all up to me.

Reality and Resilience

Most days I wake up with my mind rolling through my schedule like a news ticker at the bottom of my brain.  It’s always there – scrolling and drawing me back to it – like a flashing “don’t forget!”  I find it hard to focus on what is plainly on the screen of my awareness. That damn ticker just keeps scrolling and distracting.  It’s been this way since being baptized by the motherhood fire 2 years ago.  Many messages I heard before the boys came home were:

“You can’t do this – bring 3 kids home and work. It’s too much.”

“You’re bringing 3 children home at once? That’s a lot.”

“How are you going to do that?”

I have always had an “I can do anything” attitude.  One of my mantras was LL Cool J’s “Doin’ it and doin’ it and doin’ it well.” So when people said these things to me, I was like “I got this. Watch me.”  Holy sheet, after 2 years of them home now it’s like, “I clearly don’t have this.  Don’t even look at me.” 

So the scrolling ticker in my brain is the last thread of “nailing it” I have left.  I am thankful because it keeps me going on most days and helps me meet the demands.  And I have also learned how it distracts and keeps me from being present.  I am constantly in schedule mode or “what is next.”  That ticker helps me not be caught off guard or miss something in a family of 5.  And I am thankful for that part of me.  And I have also missed out on a lot of joy and just being alive.  I moved so quickly and fiercely into parenting that now 2 years later I’m looking back and noticing where I missed some really important cues of just being right here, right now. 

Some hard realities I have faced as a new mother:

1    1. My hormones are jacked up just as if I birthed 3 babies. Post-partum depression is a very real possibility for any kind of new mom.

2    2. I cannot just go to work and plan my day as usual. I have soccer practices and games, doctor and other appointments (x3), etc.  There are 3 little men in my care to teach how to boil water, how to drive, and how to treat young women.  No pressure.

3    3. I have lost my identity somewhere along the way. I miss the fun girl I used to be – who dropped plans last minute and went to grab drinks with a friend or packed gear up for the weekend to camp with my husband.  She is still there, but she is in a corner of my mind grieving her lost freedoms.

4    4. I am lonely.  My friends are also in this stage of life, so I can’t just call someone up to go out on a whim. I contacted at least 10 friends last weekend to go see “Bad Moms” with me – NO ONE could go.  They were all out of town or busy being in this same stage of life we are all trying to figure out.

5    5. My marriage gets the shaft.  Conversations are about schedules, meal plans, someone’s health needs, school meetings, homework, clothing needs for growing boys, how to fit soccer club in the budget, and how to manage their trauma and special needs. None of this is in the least bit sexy.  We stare at each other not recognizing the other person sometimes. We are exhausted and hungry for deeper connection.

6    6. My needs don’t get prioritized. And when I do prioritize them, I feel guilty about the cost or time spent. I “should have spent that time or money some other way.”

7    7. Everything costs more, and I have a hard time budgeting for the constant unknowns of raising 3 kids.

8    8. There are more things I could add to this list, but the ticker just distracted me to the other things I need to do today and that I should probably wrap this up.

I am not knocking motherhood.  I am grateful for these boys. I am flooded with joy and gratitude when I remember seeing their little bodies crowd into a hot dirty room for “school” in an orphanage and now see them adorably run down our driveway to catch the bus after having a solid meal.  It’s those moments I let the ticker just roll, and I turn my gaze and attention to the miracle of their being.  I am reminded of who they are and who they are becoming. And I am part of their story. I am reminded of the first time I held them, the time I came home and told Todd I had met our children, the time we held each other and sobbed because we spent 2 blissful days with them before having to board a plane and leave them behind in a different orphanage with new faces, “new” soiled mattresses, and my old Bible with Psalm 139 bookmarked.  I am reminded of the beauty of being pregnant in the wait and then laboring in delivery - even in adoption.  And I am reminded what a toll that takes on parents, on marriages, and on our bodies.  I am in awe of the resilience we can muster.

Today I woke up hopeful. I noticed the ticker scrolling. And I also noticed it was Saturday.  I slept in a little longer. I asked my oldest son about the football game last night and about his time with his girlfriend.  I smelled the bacon Todd cooked for them. I poured my coffee and wrote this blog.  I am living.  I am doing the best I can. And I've got more blog posts up my sleeve about how I am making it in the midst of items 1-8 above.

I’ve got this.  Go ahead and watch me. 

Getting Curious

I could feel the fire deep in my chest after reading the many posts after the Orlando shootings. I always get overwhelmed by conflicts of opinions, finger pointing, scolding, shaming, and statements of “this could have been avoided by…” It didn’t get avoided. It happened.  It hurts. People are grieving.  And when something terrible has happened, of course we all have parts of us that want to get to the root of where and how it all went wrong and STOP the madness.  But the madness rages on as we point fingers at each other and shame the other “side” for their “choices, behaviors, etc.” What if we all got curious about one another? What if we had compassion for another person’s story and became intent on loving in spite of differences?

I’m not trying to bring back the WWJD bracelets, but Jesus seems like a good example to me of loving well…of being curious about someone, showing compassion, listening, and then offering solutions without shame and judgment.  He invited tax collecting Zacchaeus down out of the tree and had dinner with him.  He saved the adulterous woman from being stoned and called out her attackers.  In every story I’ve ever read of Jesus, He loved first.  He got curious.   He had compassion for even the most “unlovable” people. 

No matter what side any of us are on, what if we got curious about the other side? What if we get to know them and ask them questions about their beliefs? What if we kept on loving them no matter their answers and how different they are from ours? I had to take a step back after reading some posts that I strongly disagreed with. I felt the rage. I reached out to my safe people to say I was mad.  I could have blasted them publicly.  But I knew it wouldn’t help.  Hate upon hate, as far as I can tell, has never solved the problem. But more love, again as far as I can tell, goes a long way.  And I feel more settled today being really curious about people who feel differently than I do. I know it is always important to fight for what you believe in – because if you are for gun control, then speak up.  If you are against abortion, then speak up.  If you love people, advocate for them.  If you are for something, say so. If you are against something, fight to stop it. And then set your weapons down just for a second and look at the solider on the other side of the lines and try your hardest to love them anyway.  Love wins the battle.

Picture Perfect

One of the common things I hear from clients, family, or friends is that everyone feels "less than" when they look on Facebook or Instragram and see photos of other people who seem to have their lives together. Or maybe we are only posting pictures of what we think makes us look good? What is it we want to communicate to the rest of the world when we post that selfie, flawless family montage, or our kid’s trophy pic? Are we asking for attention, admiration, love, acceptance? If we are honest, of course most of us are.  As a society we have become lonely, not engaging in real-time, and we draw from the “likes” of almost strangers online to get us through the day.  So we post another picture, story, blog, article to connect with someone.  Connecting with others is so good and healthy…until it isn’t a real connection anymore.  Are we being honest with our posts? Vulnerable? And should we really be that vulnerable with EVERYONE?  What is safe to share and what isn’t?  And maybe we are completely intending to be honest and vulnerable, but what the viewer perceives is not what we intended to show.  An example…

This photo is not the reflection of perfection, having it all together, or marital bliss. Many comments we received on this photo were of course kind and generous, but I laughed thinking, “They have no idea what was going on in my mind when we took this photo!” If I could give the most accurate caption it would be:

This is an image of a married couple who finally got out together for a night out with other adults – to watch an adult concert, to drink adult beverages, and have adult conversation. This is the picture of a couple who fought tirelessly 4.5 years to bring their children home and fights now to advocate for them and raise them in a culture that makes no sense to them.  We are holding each other tight because we know our relationship is the giant thread holding this family sweater together.  On any given day I’m near unraveling.  So is he.  But when we draw close, we get stronger.  Our kids get stronger.  We took a long weekend away recently to go to counseling.  Yes, counseling. Not because our marriage is in trouble, but because we don’t want it to be.  Life is hard, and we have issues just like any other couple.  We are smiling because we know we are going to be okay in the midst of hard…and we are working our butts off for that.

So when you see our “Barbie and Ken” photo on Facebook or Instagram, please don’t for one second believe our lives are easy and perfect. When you see our kids’ photos playing soccer, or read my blogs, or see our family snapshot, my intention each time is to connect with someone out there who may be feeling like I am. And I’ve started trying to see other people’s posts the same way – what if behind every “perfect photo” there’s a deeper story, hurting person, a challenge that has been overcome? And what if we could see that as the most beautiful part of the photo?  Try on some new lenses as you scroll social media today.