This week, my baby girl turns 6! Every parenting cliche fits in right about here, but I won’t torture you with all of the “it seems like only yesterday” s and “I can’t believe how she’s changed my life!” (although it does and I can’t)
Instead, three life-lessons I’ve learned from the little girl who first made me a mother!
1. The days are long but the years fly by: This is something my mother would tell me when she looked into my tired, desperate eyes after a sleepless night or tantrum-filled day. Intellectually, I knew she was right, but I am only now beginning to really understand it. There were plenty of parenting days with Alana that I thought would never end (I’m sure there will be plenty more), but truly, I can not believe that the tiny little girl who snuggled up in my lap and asked me about “You Nork” (New York) is gone from my life forever...everyday she is replaced by someone equally precious but infinitely different and endlessly challenging. I know that these moments are fleeting and so I try to pour as much in and drink as much out of the time we spend together, completely aware and correspondingly in denial of the fact that in a blink I’ll be gray, she’ll be grown, and I’ll be wondering how it went by so fast. (note to self: read this blog around dinner time tomorrow when aforementioned “angel-girl” is whining at decibels that rival dog whistles and begging me to make her waffles for dinner instead of eating her vegetables. take a deep breath. resume stone-faced insistence of eating vegetables)
2. Everything you need to know about relationships can be found in a Shel Silverstein Book: From the giving tree we learn about sacrificial love, from The Missing Piece we learn about being whole on our own, don’t even get me started on “the Big O” and “Hug of War”. Bedtime stories are constant reminders to me of how to relate to the people in my life, and have served as jumping-off points for plenty of deep and meaningful conversations with my five-year-old that I hope will shape who my daughter grows to be...they are definitely shaping me!
3. At its best, love is both simple and unconditional: We were watching the Disney movie “UP” when a line from the movie caught my attention (as I was, ever the multi-tasker, also grading papers at the time) The dog says (well thinks, and the master hears his thoughts), “I was hiding under your porch because I Love You...can I please come in?” Don’t ask me why, but I found this simple and straightforward declaration to be refreshing and adorable. It immediately became a phrase in our house, even my two-year-old son joins in when we say it. It’s our own special way of saying “I love you, I want to be near you, and you make me happy”. I make a point to break it out at special moments, but also at moments where I am completely frustrated and frazzled with my very strong-willed daughter. I know, that she knows, that I love her even in those most unfavorable and imperfect moments, and knowing that she knows this...makes me feel successful as a parent.
I know I won’t always be her hero. She won’t always think it’s cool to dance with me in our kitchen, bury her dad under pillows and blankets, or discuss books with me snuggled up on the sofa. We’re destined to impress and disappoint each other many times through this journey. I know she’s going to encounter obstacles that I won’t be able to move and that she’ll come to me with problems I am not capable to solve. She is and will continue to be the best and worst of me intermingled with the best and worst of her father and marinating in juices that are uniquely hers for better or worse. At the end of the day though, she is the result of a choice that was made, a gift that was given, and a miracle that was entrusted to a very undeserving me by a God who knows what we need better than we do...I am so humbled and grateful and determined to see her shine, help her grow, and love her hopelessly for the rest of my life!
Monday, January 17, 2011
Friday, January 7, 2011
A Modern Day Parable About Perception
It had been going on for a while, the headaches. She turned the business card over in her hands, double checked that she had the right address, and looked up at the brightly striped awning over the dimly lit door. It didn’t look like a doctor’s office, at least not like any she’d ever seen before, but then again, she’d never really come to this part of town before. She took a deep breath, (like she always did before plunging into unfamiliar territory), reached out and opened the door.
The light from inside the office blinded her, assaulted her, and instinctively she lunged back toward the door and searched around blindly for the handle so she could go back outside. She didn’t find the door, she felt a hand on her elbow and a gentle voice said, “You’re okay, give your eyes a moment to adjust, it’ll just take a second.” The voice and hand were calming, so she stopped searching for the handle of the door and blinked her eyes slowly until the light became tolerable. The room she stood in, came slowly into focus. There was nothing remarkable about it-- it sort of resembled the optical stores at the mall. There were well-lit glass shelves featuring various styles of glasses. There was some medical equipment in the corner, and a reclined swivel chair in the middle of the room. The man who greeted her came into focus next. He had a kind face, and an unassuming smile that seemed lined with deep knowing. His most captivating feature though, were his eyes. They looked so foreign to her, other-worldly. They didn’t have one specific color, and looking into them was like looking into mirror in a hall full of mirrors, where you couldn’t exactly tell what you were looking at and what was merely a reflection. She looked down when she realized she was staring into the eyes of a stranger, and so she saw the floor instead of his knowing smile.
She felt suddenly uneasy as he lead her to the chair in the middle of the room. A bit of a nervous rambler, she tried to explain about how she found the intriguing business card, how she thought it was a sign, and how she didn’t want him to waste his time checking her vision, as she has had 20/20 vision for as long as she could remember.
When she said that last part, the man chuckled a little, and the wisdom showed itself in his smile again. She felt suddenly small...but also at ease, she wondered at this strange contradiction.
She told him about her headaches, and without meaning to, she told him other things as well, like how she just felt different lately, how the whole world looked different to her, felt less lovely somehow. She explained how she worried that she might never feel really at home in her own skin again, and how she wondered if the headaches and all of this had anything in common at all. She confessed that she was acutely aware that these problems could not be solved by an opthomologist, and apologized for wasting the man’s time but he placed his hand on her shoulder again and slowly lowered a piece of equipment to her face. “I’m not exactly an Opthomolagist. Why don’t you let me take a look and decide for myself if I can help you or not. As you can see there is no one else here, so I would hardly say you are wasting my time.”
It was true that the place was empty, so she sighed and sat back in her chair as he looked through the scope and made several affirmative sounds. He lifted the scope and sat down across from her. “The way I see it, you have come to exactly the right place. Your lenses are very worn and cloudy, you need new ones, and once we find the right lens, I’m sure you’ll be feeling much more yourself.” She was immediately confused, “I don’t wear contacts or glasses, I don’t have lenses of any kind.” The man smiled that same knowing smile. “Everyone has lenses. We’re born with them and they change over time. The decisions we make, the experiences we have, alter the lenses and how we see the world through them. Most people don’t ever notice the change, most people change their thoughts to match their altered lenses and accept the new view, but for some people, the change in their lenses is so drastic and the new view goes so against their make-up and how they believe the world should be, that they feel the change, struggle against it, and can choose to change their lenses. That, I suspect is what has brought you here today. Somehow, maybe without even realizing it, you have decided that you just can’t stand looking through your altered lenses anymore, it’s not natural for you, so let’s see if we can’t find a pair that fit you better?”
Her mind was whirling, her head was spinning, she didn’t know what to make of any of it. She contemplated running for the door, but she couldn’t move, and she couldn’t dismiss what this man was saying. As if he heard her thoughts, he made a suggestion: “Let’s try something. I fear that your current lenses are hindering you from even understanding what I’m trying to tell you. If we take them off, I think things might become more clear.” Before she could protest, he reached over and rubbed his thumb across her eyes, then leaned in close so that all she could see were his eyes staring into hers. The reality flooded her like a flash from a dream. In the whites of his eyes she saw herself reflected. She saw moments of her life that had opened her up and gutted her like a pumpkin before carving. In the pupils of his eyes she saw the world around her and noticed that as each scoop of pumpkin flesh was removed, the days got darker and clouded, the colors less saturated, the shadows more harsh. Everyone and everything she saw took on a less brilliant hue and the loveliness that she saw at the start wilted away with each loss, shrunk back with each subtle blow.
With this vision came the deep-rooted understanding that had escaped her earlier. All of life is painted by the way we see the world, each experience has the power to change the lenses that we are looking through, and the only way to see the world as we are meant to, is to choose the lenses that fit our philosophy. She almost asked the man if it is unhealthy or deceptive for people to walk around seeing the world through chosen lenses, seeing it the way they want it to be instead of the way that it really is, but she knew at once the answer he would say: perception is reality- the world IS for the viewer the way she SEES it and we choose what we see and how we perceive it...deep down, we always choose.
She followed him over to the display cases and tried on the pair of lenses he suggested for her. Instantly the room looked different. The light was more radiant, the colors more efferevescent. She looked into the man’s mirrored eyes and saw the same scenes she had seen before, but this time instead of a pumpkin being hollowed out, she saw a symphony being written, note by note, changing and growing, and shrinking back. The harsh notes on the page were balanced by gentle rhythms and lyrical refrains, and all together it was a story of growth and triumph and hope and promise. The man walked her to the door, I think you’ll find these suit you just right.” He said. “If they start to get clouded, you can always come back and choose another set.”
This time it was the light outside of the shop that assaulted her senses. Her breath caught in her chest as she saw the color and possibility. With fresh eyes she noticed the purposeful place of everything she passed, the broad smiles of those who passed by her. The clouds came, and rain danced on the pavement creating ribbons of color that swirled down the drains in the street. It kissed her skin and she felt every drop. Night crept up as she walked, and lights lit up the sky. Where last night she saw dark spaces, tonight she saw mystery, where last night she felt fear, tonight she felt power, where last night she was alone, tonight she kept company and shared a solidarity with everyone under the sky. Eyes wide-open the sweet knowing of what she had chosen swept over her and “happiness hit her like a train on a track, coming toward her, no turning back.”
The light from inside the office blinded her, assaulted her, and instinctively she lunged back toward the door and searched around blindly for the handle so she could go back outside. She didn’t find the door, she felt a hand on her elbow and a gentle voice said, “You’re okay, give your eyes a moment to adjust, it’ll just take a second.” The voice and hand were calming, so she stopped searching for the handle of the door and blinked her eyes slowly until the light became tolerable. The room she stood in, came slowly into focus. There was nothing remarkable about it-- it sort of resembled the optical stores at the mall. There were well-lit glass shelves featuring various styles of glasses. There was some medical equipment in the corner, and a reclined swivel chair in the middle of the room. The man who greeted her came into focus next. He had a kind face, and an unassuming smile that seemed lined with deep knowing. His most captivating feature though, were his eyes. They looked so foreign to her, other-worldly. They didn’t have one specific color, and looking into them was like looking into mirror in a hall full of mirrors, where you couldn’t exactly tell what you were looking at and what was merely a reflection. She looked down when she realized she was staring into the eyes of a stranger, and so she saw the floor instead of his knowing smile.
She felt suddenly uneasy as he lead her to the chair in the middle of the room. A bit of a nervous rambler, she tried to explain about how she found the intriguing business card, how she thought it was a sign, and how she didn’t want him to waste his time checking her vision, as she has had 20/20 vision for as long as she could remember.
When she said that last part, the man chuckled a little, and the wisdom showed itself in his smile again. She felt suddenly small...but also at ease, she wondered at this strange contradiction.
She told him about her headaches, and without meaning to, she told him other things as well, like how she just felt different lately, how the whole world looked different to her, felt less lovely somehow. She explained how she worried that she might never feel really at home in her own skin again, and how she wondered if the headaches and all of this had anything in common at all. She confessed that she was acutely aware that these problems could not be solved by an opthomologist, and apologized for wasting the man’s time but he placed his hand on her shoulder again and slowly lowered a piece of equipment to her face. “I’m not exactly an Opthomolagist. Why don’t you let me take a look and decide for myself if I can help you or not. As you can see there is no one else here, so I would hardly say you are wasting my time.”
It was true that the place was empty, so she sighed and sat back in her chair as he looked through the scope and made several affirmative sounds. He lifted the scope and sat down across from her. “The way I see it, you have come to exactly the right place. Your lenses are very worn and cloudy, you need new ones, and once we find the right lens, I’m sure you’ll be feeling much more yourself.” She was immediately confused, “I don’t wear contacts or glasses, I don’t have lenses of any kind.” The man smiled that same knowing smile. “Everyone has lenses. We’re born with them and they change over time. The decisions we make, the experiences we have, alter the lenses and how we see the world through them. Most people don’t ever notice the change, most people change their thoughts to match their altered lenses and accept the new view, but for some people, the change in their lenses is so drastic and the new view goes so against their make-up and how they believe the world should be, that they feel the change, struggle against it, and can choose to change their lenses. That, I suspect is what has brought you here today. Somehow, maybe without even realizing it, you have decided that you just can’t stand looking through your altered lenses anymore, it’s not natural for you, so let’s see if we can’t find a pair that fit you better?”
Her mind was whirling, her head was spinning, she didn’t know what to make of any of it. She contemplated running for the door, but she couldn’t move, and she couldn’t dismiss what this man was saying. As if he heard her thoughts, he made a suggestion: “Let’s try something. I fear that your current lenses are hindering you from even understanding what I’m trying to tell you. If we take them off, I think things might become more clear.” Before she could protest, he reached over and rubbed his thumb across her eyes, then leaned in close so that all she could see were his eyes staring into hers. The reality flooded her like a flash from a dream. In the whites of his eyes she saw herself reflected. She saw moments of her life that had opened her up and gutted her like a pumpkin before carving. In the pupils of his eyes she saw the world around her and noticed that as each scoop of pumpkin flesh was removed, the days got darker and clouded, the colors less saturated, the shadows more harsh. Everyone and everything she saw took on a less brilliant hue and the loveliness that she saw at the start wilted away with each loss, shrunk back with each subtle blow.
With this vision came the deep-rooted understanding that had escaped her earlier. All of life is painted by the way we see the world, each experience has the power to change the lenses that we are looking through, and the only way to see the world as we are meant to, is to choose the lenses that fit our philosophy. She almost asked the man if it is unhealthy or deceptive for people to walk around seeing the world through chosen lenses, seeing it the way they want it to be instead of the way that it really is, but she knew at once the answer he would say: perception is reality- the world IS for the viewer the way she SEES it and we choose what we see and how we perceive it...deep down, we always choose.
She followed him over to the display cases and tried on the pair of lenses he suggested for her. Instantly the room looked different. The light was more radiant, the colors more efferevescent. She looked into the man’s mirrored eyes and saw the same scenes she had seen before, but this time instead of a pumpkin being hollowed out, she saw a symphony being written, note by note, changing and growing, and shrinking back. The harsh notes on the page were balanced by gentle rhythms and lyrical refrains, and all together it was a story of growth and triumph and hope and promise. The man walked her to the door, I think you’ll find these suit you just right.” He said. “If they start to get clouded, you can always come back and choose another set.”
This time it was the light outside of the shop that assaulted her senses. Her breath caught in her chest as she saw the color and possibility. With fresh eyes she noticed the purposeful place of everything she passed, the broad smiles of those who passed by her. The clouds came, and rain danced on the pavement creating ribbons of color that swirled down the drains in the street. It kissed her skin and she felt every drop. Night crept up as she walked, and lights lit up the sky. Where last night she saw dark spaces, tonight she saw mystery, where last night she felt fear, tonight she felt power, where last night she was alone, tonight she kept company and shared a solidarity with everyone under the sky. Eyes wide-open the sweet knowing of what she had chosen swept over her and “happiness hit her like a train on a track, coming toward her, no turning back.”
Tribute to one George Bailey
I think its safe to say that I have had a life-long crush on George Bailey. Since the first time I saw “It’s a Wonderful Life” in my childhood, until today, I was and remain enamored by this character, and happy to see him come around each Christmas season. I’m not alone in my admiration of George, he remains a staple of this time of year and his story is played in houses everywhere in black and white or technicolor and even the most sheltered among us, recognize some of the key phrases from the timeless classic that is “It’s a Wonderful Life”. For me, his story embodies the spirit of Christmas and serves to remind me personally of that spirit, time and time again. So here’s my tribute to George Bailey, a list of the reasons why just like Mary did, I whisper “I’ll love you, George Bailey, until the day I die!”
He is a flawed individual: aren’t we all? He’s not perfect, he’s not some superhero, he’s not even completely unselfish...BUT he does care and he is sacrificial in that care. He looks out for the people he loves and puts many of his own dreams on hold to help them out..not without complaint, mind you, but without expectation or tally of debt! Heroic in my book!
The man has boundary issues: As a boundless girl in my own right, I totally relate to this characteristic/flaw of George Bailey. He’s not very good at saying “no”, he lets people walk over him a bit, but in the long run he turns out all right! ;) Hope after all!
He’s a romantic: Lasso the moon? Need I say more? <3
He just can’t catch a break: at his most desperate moment he is assigned a guardian angel known to have “The IQ of a rabbit but the faith of a child”. We’ve all been there, but this guy just can’t catch a break, and despite his string of bad luck, he still manages to be a devoted family-man, an amazing friend, dedicated community-member, and beloved by everyone he meets.
Priorities: This is a man who knows what’s important. He chooses love over money and eventually realizes that adventure is life itself, and not something you have to chase, but something you have to recognize in every moment.
But I guess what I love most about him is that I see him in so many of the people I know, and even in myself. The George Bailey in each of us does more than we should for the people we care about and then quietly wonders if any of it matters-really. But it does matter. It’s a wonderful life...can you see it?
He is a flawed individual: aren’t we all? He’s not perfect, he’s not some superhero, he’s not even completely unselfish...BUT he does care and he is sacrificial in that care. He looks out for the people he loves and puts many of his own dreams on hold to help them out..not without complaint, mind you, but without expectation or tally of debt! Heroic in my book!
The man has boundary issues: As a boundless girl in my own right, I totally relate to this characteristic/flaw of George Bailey. He’s not very good at saying “no”, he lets people walk over him a bit, but in the long run he turns out all right! ;) Hope after all!
He’s a romantic: Lasso the moon? Need I say more? <3
He just can’t catch a break: at his most desperate moment he is assigned a guardian angel known to have “The IQ of a rabbit but the faith of a child”. We’ve all been there, but this guy just can’t catch a break, and despite his string of bad luck, he still manages to be a devoted family-man, an amazing friend, dedicated community-member, and beloved by everyone he meets.
Priorities: This is a man who knows what’s important. He chooses love over money and eventually realizes that adventure is life itself, and not something you have to chase, but something you have to recognize in every moment.
But I guess what I love most about him is that I see him in so many of the people I know, and even in myself. The George Bailey in each of us does more than we should for the people we care about and then quietly wonders if any of it matters-really. But it does matter. It’s a wonderful life...can you see it?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)