Lay down Sally, Rest here in my arms

You cannot fully appreciate the phrases “utter hopelessness” or the “depths of despair” until you’ve watched a flustered sixth grader stare into the soulless black eye of their very first combination lock.  “Why?”, their defeated little souls cry out as they drown in a sea of lined index cards, 3” 3-ring binders, and unsharpened number two pencils, “Why has life suddenly lost its meaning?! Why am I powerless to this contraption whose impenetrable complexity must surely rival that of Ft. Knox?  And who in the world thought it wise to go PAST the second number the first time around . . . WHAT does that even mean?!”.  

We’ll call her Sally because there just aren’t enough of those anymore.  My heart must have seen her there in the hallway seconds before my eyes registered her presence.  If ever there was a casting call for the part of “eager 6^th grader”, Sally nailed it from the humongous bookbag that made her look a bit like a turtle right down to her brand-new tennis shoes with the scuff-free white soles.  She had the tip of her tongue clenched between her teeth in utter and complete concentration as she tried for what was probably the 742^nd time to gain access to her locker.  She couldn’t have been more appreciative when I stopped and offered to help, and was all smiles as she ran off to her next class – in the complete wrong direction.

That was Monday.  I didn’t think of Sally again until Wednesday when I saw her there in the hallway once again bravely doing battle with her locker.  This time, however, something was different.  Sally wasn’t standing quite as tall, her face wasn’t quite as determined, and – now, I might have imagined this part – her tennis shoes weren’t quite as shiny.  When she saw me stop next to her, her eyes met mine, and her sweet face crumpled.  “This is hard, and I’m tired of trying.  I’m just, I’m just tired.”  She turned back to the lock and was surprised when I put my hand over it.  I think she expected me to open it for her and looked so very confused when I made no move to do so.  I left my hand where it was and asked if there was anything that she needed from inside her locker at that very moment.  When we’d determined that she, in fact, had all that she needed for her next class, I kept my hand firmly over the lock and said, “I know it’s hard and it’s ok to be tired. I also know that you CAN do this.  It doesn’t feel like it right this minute, but you can and you will.  But for now?   Just leave it.  You’ll come back and try again later.  For now, just leave it.”

“This is hard, and I’m tired of trying.  I’m just, I’m just tired.”  And it was, and she was, and life is, and sometimes we all are. I’m not sure exactly when it became unacceptable to just admit that we’re tired.  Of course, there is something to be said for perseverance and pushing through, but sometimes we are just plain tired of being all that we can be and just doing it and going the extra mile and reaching for those darn stars.  You won’t hear it from Tony Robbins nor find it on a canvas at the Hobby Lobby, but some days mediocre is absolutely beautiful, and enough is just that – it’s totally, completely and absolutely enough.  And on those days when the most positive, life-giving affirmation that we can drum up to whisper to ourselves before falling asleep is, “at least we didn’t have to use the fire extinguisher and the dog’s diarrhea seems to have stopped” . . . well, some days that’s just enough.  Sometimes we’ve turned that lock just as many times as we can stand to turn it, and we just need to walk away.  Yes, we CAN do it.  But for now?  For now, we just need to leave it. 

I find myself asking so often these days “what is wrong with this world of ours?”.  And you know what I think?  I think the author of the Christmas song was on to something.  We ARE a “weary world”.  We’re all just trying so hard to open our lockers, and sometimes it is hard, and we are just so tired.  SO, since it is the season of “Classroom Rules”, THIS is what I would post on the world’s bulletin board if I could:

Rules to Remedy a Weary World

1.  Notice

Look up from your phone and just notice.  Notice the lady whose hands are full and rush ahead to open the door for her just to be nice.  Notice that the seemingly incompetent driver’s license plate is from out-of-state and let them over because they really don’t know where they are going. Notice when a child remembers to use their manners.  Notice when the sky is the most beautiful blue that you’ve ever seen.  Notice lightening bugs that flicker in your backyard.  We miss so much joy simply because we fail to notice.  If we were meant to wear blinders, we’d be horses.  Peripheral vision is a gift; use it.

2.  Find Rest

“Come to Me all you who are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”  It’s one of my favorites.  What a beautiful gift to offer someone . . . rest.  Not just sleep, but rest.  In my mind’s eye I picture a loving Daddy God calling us into His lap where we can just be still.  Jesus knew that the reality of our lives wouldn’t always look exactly like our FaceBook posts.  He knew that sometimes life would be hard and that we would just be tired.  He didn’t offer to fix it for us or shame us into working harder or focusing on the positive.  He simply offered sweet rest.  Admitting that we’re tired doesn’t make us any less thankful, grateful, or blessed.  Sometimes we just need to walk away from our locker.  Sometimes we just need to lay it down and leave it for now.  Sometimes we just need to rest.  And that is so absolutely ok.

3.  Speak kindness and affirmation into others

Last week a dear, sweet lady made an effort to pour kindness all over me with a compliment that my heart needed to hear at that very moment.  She had absolutely no way of knowing that I needed it nor did she have anything to gain by making the effort, but we both walked away from the exchange standing a little bit taller just because she spoke kindness.  Did you notice someone’s new outfit?  Tell them!  Is he sporting a new haircut?  Mention it!  Does someone make you smile just because they exist in this world?  Words of affirmation are a love language in which we can all be fluent. 

4.  Dance with them when they feel like dancing

I remember when the children were small, we celebrated EVERYTHING.  She rolled over – cheer like crazy people.  He used the potty – make up a ridiculous song and sing it in a conga line around the bathroom.  As adults we are so terribly quick to point out failures; if only we were so eager to celebrate successes.  Football players dance in the end zone; we too should celebrate every single one of life’s touchdowns with that same level of enthusiasm.  Nab the closest parking place in the Kroger parking lot?  You jump out of that car, spike that ball, and flap those knees, my friend.  I’ll be right there, dancing with you.

On Thursday I happened to walk by at the exact moment that Sally opened her locker ON THE VERY FIRST TRY.  Our eyes met, and we smiled.  Neither one of us wanted to endanger Sally's cool points, but in our minds?  Oh MAN did we dance!

I saw you, Mama

Last week was Nurses Week.  My Mama is a nurse.  Lord knows she deserves to be celebrated often and much, so it only seems fitting that Mother’s Day fall right behind providing back-to-back reasons to cheer the biggest cheerleader I’ve ever had.  Mother was a nurse long before the pin and diploma that made it official.  I think she must have been born to take care of others.  It’s her love language.  She was born to be a Mama, of this I am absolutely certain. 

The pin and the diploma?  They came later in her life.  She went back to school.  She had a husband and two children who were extremely used to and jealous of her time, and she went back to school.  And she did it with such selfless grace. I’m so proud of her; I always have been.  I don’t know that I ever told her so.  Now, looking at it through my own mama eyes, I am not only proud, I am in AWE of her.    I can see her, even now, settling at our textbook covered breakfast room table to start studying as the rest of us went to bed.  There were times that she was still there the next morning.  It had to have been so very hard.  

I saw you, Mama.

Years and many, many labors and deliveries later, she sat at the head of my bed as we tried desperately to coax her first grandchild into this world.  Sandra my mother and Sandra the labor and delivery nurse had quite a battle with each other as she watched the monitors aware of what every dip, every irregularity meant but determined to love me through it with a perfect calm.  She didn’t kill my doctor that day.  She sure wanted to.  She didn’t let me panic or quit.  I sure wanted to.  And when Grace finally arrived, healthy and perfect and ours, when she saw her for the first time, I watched her fall absolutely and completely in love with my little girl.  I had a front row seat to the beginning of one of my most favorite love stories.

I saw you, Mama.

We were all home for Christmas a few months ago, even our dog.  It was utter chaos.  Loud and messy and wonderful.  Mother spent too much time in the kitchen; she always does.  From the den you can see her there listening and smiling, watching the children through the window as they ride by on the four-wheeler, asking what we want to drink.  And later when every gift had been opened and an impressive mound of wrapping paper covered the floor, she was finally still.  And she watched her people.  Soaking us in.  Watching Daddy doze in his chair and her girls trying on shoes and clothes, thinking how big the children were getting, already wondering what in the world she’d get them next year.   She glanced at the mantle to make sure everyone had checked their stockings and thought how there were now 10 where once had hung only 4.  And though she hadn’t gone to bed at a reasonable hour for days leading up to our visit just to make certain that this moment would look EXACTLY like this, it wasn’t exhaustion that she felt, but rather pure joy.

I saw you, Mama.

And now, and I suspect for always, when I question and doubt and just don’t know exactly what to do, I look for you, Mama.  What would my Mama do?  And then I know with a perfect certainty – she’d love you through it.  She’d worry and pray and sometimes cry and send you the most perfect notes and go from soft as silk to tough as nails in the blink of an eye and just love you so big that you couldn’t possibly doubt that everything would be alright.  She’d love you through it.  And then you’d look up, having come out on the other side, and there she’d be, pom-poms in hand – your most loyal cheerleader, your biggest fan. 

And if I can do just a semblance of the job that she has done.  If I can love just half as well.  If I even BEGIN to wave my pom-poms with a fraction of her enthusiasm, well, it will be because I saw you, Mama.

You're Sixteen, You're Beautiful, & You're Mine

You, my Grace, are my fairy godmother, my birthday cake candles, and my genie in a bottle all rolled into one beautiful package, because it was you who granted my heart’s desire, my biggest, most perfect wish – you, baby girl, made me a mommy.  From the moment that I knew that there was a you, I’ve prayed a circle of angels around you, a heavenly hedge of protection . . . “keep her safe, surround her with Your angels…”. And I hope to goodness those guys have a great retirement package; you certainly haven’t made their job easy, and they will have more than earned it when they are finished with you!  You live life big and loud and fun and feisty, and we wouldn’t have it any other way.

Since these days we’re obsessed with all things motor vehicle, I thought I’d attempt to speak that language in the hopes that something might register.  Consider these “Mommy’s Road Signs for Life” (and don’t under any circumstances use any of the following information in an attempt to impress the DMV or any uniformed officer of the law) . . .

"You're Not Going That Way"

I saw a quote recently that said, “Don’t look back; you’re not going that way.”  Truth.  Now, the experiences you have will most definitely help shape the person you are.  Your past, your foundation, it’s important.  This sign doesn’t suggest that you forget those things that have gotten you to where you are, but rather learn from them and keep moving forward.  We can’t go back and get a “re-do” on a bad yesterday, but we can certainly do our best to focus on making tomorrow better.  Concentrate on the view through your windshield, little one.  No need to keep looking back; you’re not going that way. 

"Be Still"

This is so important, Grace.  Life goes and goes and goes and we run with it trying just as hard as we can to keep up.  You buzz with kinetic energy – always on the move, planning for “what’s next” before you’re even finished with “what’s now”.  And busy is good - busy means you’re out there living this one, big beautiful life you’ve been given.  But don’t be afraid to just be still and quiet sometimes.  There is so much wisdom behind “stop and smell the flowers”.  Notice things, notice EVERYTHING.  Find something that makes your eyes go wide and your mouth hang open and then just be still and soak it in – never outgrow awe and wonder.

“Work Hard”

 Dreaming big dreams is fantastic, it’s exactly what we want you to do – the bigger the better.  BUT at the end of the day, when the dreaming is done, go to work to make those dreams happen.  Not getting there is ok; not trying is just unacceptable.  Things worth having are rarely free or easily come by – work hard, Grace.  Look around you, wonder if things could be different or better, and then go to work to make it so.  You were not created to sit on the sidelines.  And when you’re tired, when your tank is empty and you just can’t imagine giving any more, hear us at the finish line cheering you on, yelling like maniacs telling you to give it all you’ve got left.  

“Just Wait”

This one stinks; it just does.  It’s hard and no fun.  I blame cell phones.  We have instant everything now; waiting is a lost art.  But sometimes, baby girl, sometimes it’s just exactly what we need to do – just wait.  Wait for the answer, wait for the wisdom, wait for “what’s next” to reveal itself to you.  And you know what’s so wonderful about this sign?  It’s great friends with “Be Still”.  Oftentimes when you’re “just waiting”, it’s a perfect time to just “be still”.  Worrying about tomorrow robs today of its joy.  Sometimes things just don’t happen on our time.  Trust, my love, that there is a perfect plan and just you wait – every little thing is gonna be alright, promise.

“Be Kind”

I remember being about your age and stressing over what I wanted to “be” when I grew up.  It didn’t help that every adult who I encountered felt led to ask me that very question.  It was as if they had all been given the same script.  Problem was I wasn’t privy to the script, and I didn’t have a clue what my lines were!  This is one of those instances when I could really use a rewind because I know the answer now. 

The play would go something like this:

Adult:  “So Amy, what do you think you want to be when you grow up?”

Brilliant Again 16 year old me:  “Kind”

That’s it.  That’s exactly what I want to be – kind.  And Grace, if you can be ANYTHING (and you can), be kind.  Give that compliment, share that beautiful smile, speak encouragement, love freely, cheer for the underdog, be the voice of those too tired to speak for themselves.  SPEAK kindly.  You don’t have to agree with someone, you don’t even have to like them, but you can always, always, always be kind.

Slippery when wet?  Only if you’re Bon Jovi.  Let’s call this one, “Jesus Take The Wheel”. 

You, my hard headed, strong willed, independent child, you cling to control just like it’s your cold blankie.  You always have.  But sometimes, sometimes it’s (whatever “it” is at the moment) just too much for us to handle on our own.  The good news?  You don’t have to, baby.  You were never expected to.  When things are crazy and life is swerving all over the place, and it just doesn’t seem like things will ever be straight again – Jesus take the wheel.  Turning over the control is hard.  Blind faith is even harder.  It’s ok to wonder and question – that doesn’t make your faith any less.  Faith is this elusive, beautiful whisper that is sometimes almost impossible to hear, and those are the times that it’s most important that we listen, that we listen really, really hard.  Because when your heart finally hears its song, faith will plant and bloom and grow there until its singing drowns out all the other noise.  Your birthday falls on Easter sometimes.  I love that.  He carried the weight of the WHOLE WORLD on His shoulders, Grace.  He can absolutely handle carrying you.  He loved you first.

My Grace, my heart’s desire, my wish come true, I am, every day, in absolute awe of you.  Drive slow, my baby girl, roll those windows down – there’s so much to see, and this world, this life, it’s BEAUTIFUL - soak it all in – and then crank up that radio, shake your imaginary tambourine, and sing at the top of your lungs.  Those people in the car next to you?  Yep, you bet they’re watching.  How could they not?  You’re sixteen, you’re beautiful, and you’re mine.

Happy Birthday, my Amazing Grace!

More than you’ll ever know,

Mommy