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peace
Peace sleeps
Jun 8th
Last night, as my 4-year-old settled down for bedtime, she went over to her little sister. She made sure she was tucked in, that she had her teddy bear, and gave her a kiss. Then she grinned and told me she’d given her a kiss.
After a day of hand-to-hand combat over who got to sit in the Dora chair and other details of life, it was good to see peace play out in their world. Nothing big or exciting, just a moment.
Any examples of peace in your world? I’d love to hear from you.
Swinging At Pitches
May 18th
The other night at my daughter’s softball game, one of the girls struck out. We were all a little surprised. She’s a pretty good batter.
Later, her mom asked her casually what happened. “I know the pitcher, mom. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings.”
Oh.
Her comment hit me like a Greyhound bus.
Good God, I swing at pitches all the time just so I don’t hurt the pitcher’s feelings!
Gulp. Silence.
Wow.
There are so many times in my life when I do what is expected of me. You too? We all do. We have to, much of the time, to keep the wheels of our lives turning. Sometimes we think this is the way to keep the peace.
Instead, we end up with inner turmoil because it’s just out of sync with what we need.
Sometimes, we need to not swing as others expect. We need to let other people be responsible for their own feelings, come what may, and take a baby step toward caring for ourselves first.
This is hard, particularly for people like me who have been brought up with this incredible sense of responsibility and – dare I say it — good old-fashioned Catholic guilt. I should go to church. I should attend my college reunion. I should get involved in every school event. I should have a perfectly clean house. I should cook dinner every night. I should be exhausted from working so hard. The list goes on and on.
It’s hard to do what you need, rather than what you should.
I realize I’ve been hanging on for dear life, swinging away at those pitches, for fear of letting my brother and my parents down in an area of my own life. I’ve somehow relegated myself to status of an observer rather than a bona fide player in the game.
I’ve been terrified of what they might think. That by taking the action my soul tells me to take I might hurt other people’s feelings. I’ve been scared that it might somehow sever ties that I treasure. Scared that my parents (who, incidentally, have both been dead for over ten years) might not respect my need.
Now isn’t that interesting.
There have been so many tears over this issue, and so much angst. I feel like I’ve been in limbo for years, under some strange spell.
An amazing thing happened yesterday after I finally got this into my head that I can make the decision I want. For the first time in a long time, I’ve been able to think about some of the other “elephants” in my life. For me, who has a closet full of elephants that are all really ignored and needy, this is a huge deal.
It’s not what is expected of me, but it’s what I expect of myself that is important.
Take care, and all my love. And don’t swing at any pitches unless you are ready. But if you are ready, get out there and hit a home run.
Happy Peace Day
May 4th
Is it even possible for someone with three children under the age of 10 to write about the word “peace”?
I don’t know. You be the judge.
Last week I was reading a blog — not sure which one, I’ve lost track — and the author was talking about how to incorporate peaceful moments into one’s day. It was a lovely, thoughtful piece, suggesting that everyday activities such as cleaning and cooking dinner could become opportunities for peace and meditation.
That made me scream with laughter. Seriously.
This person has never seen the Playskool crackden I live in. There is nothing meditative about having so little time for cleaning that you have to prioritize carpet stains.
Cooking is not meditative for me, either. I imagine it must be like cooking on a pirate ship that is being plundered. Little people are gonna die if I don’t get that mac-and-cheese out there PRONTO. They’re in the ‘fridge, pulling things out on their own. They’re throwing things off the shelves in the pantry. They’re collapsing, screaming, crying.
See?
Peace for me is, well, different.
Peace is not quiet. It is not meditative.
No, despite all the noise and insanity, I do feel at peace. Sometimes.
Someday it will be quiet around here and my kids will probably be texting me to find out what’s for dinner. I’ll look back and actually miss these days.
Peace, to me, is the moment within all this craziness when I can look at what’s happening and say, “yes.” It’s that satisfying moment when my little one has just learned how to move forward by herself on her bike. Or I’m clapping like mad during a concert in the living room. Or looking at that carpet stain and knowing that it happened during the creation of a particularly great piece of art. Or feeling a little hand squeeze mine.
Those are my moments of peace. I breathe. I take it in. And then I move on to what’s next.