Abundance #5

Abundance #5

Tonight I had a conversation with our children’s 1^st grade teacher who we have been blessed to have in our lives for many years now. The topic of conversation eventually led to homework. She is well aware that our kids, except for our first born, have been terrible at completing homework in the early primary grades.

I hold a strong belief that homework for young students is essentially useless. I believe that a certain amount of myth surrounds the need for the completion of homework. “It will build study skills,” they say or “It will reinforce core concepts.” I actually think homework in the early elementary years is meant more for the parents than for the students. The only caveat being reading to children, which I find to be one of the most important things parents can do at home.

Every week I sit in meetings and listen to teachers admonish parents for their child’s homework not being done. My heart sinks for these working poor parents who are often times holding down two jobs and I worry for the kids who might also be saddled with the stress of what I perceive as educational establishment hoop jumping. I internally roll my eyes and think, “Well, my kid’s homework isn’t done either and I should know better.” Or should I?

I think my distrust of the usefulness of homework comes from having been homeschooled Kindergarten through 8^th grade. My parents chose to educate me from mail order curriculum at a time when homeschooling was considered potentially illegal. No enrichment classes with peers. No drop-in PE to exert some energy, no art classes to socialize in. It was just the basic information you needed to get to high school.

My early education consisted of between and hour and a half to two hours of instruction with a small amount of individual work. This was a consistent pattern except on days when my mother was too depressed, tired or sick to teach me. Then I did nothing but play in my room or outside.  Needless to say, I never had homework because it was all homework.

As a mother who very much wants my children to succeed academically others have outwardly wondered why I have thumbed my nose at giving my kids more than a feeble, “Do you have homework?” on any given school night. It is difficult for me to remember only completing two hours or less of school related tasks on any given day and still ultimately doing well in high school, college and graduate school and then expecting that my children attend school all day only to come home to do more school work. On an intuitive level this is the stripping of abundance.

I want my children to grow up knowing that it is ok and preferable to not work all of the time. I would love for them to have interests outside of school and work. I want them to believe they can be whole, happy human beings whose purpose is not solely to “succeed” or spend inordinate amounts of time away from what nourishes their souls. I pray they can find abundance and not an abundance of homework.

Abundance #4

Abundance #4

I love to write. Ideas stir inside me and demand to be expressed. But there is more. It is not just processing my inner thoughts, which could be done verbally. The progression of writing drops me into an otherworldly space. An out of body sensation is usually present as I phrase and rephrase the content and word order. I like things to sound just right as I attempt to reveal my mental and emotional life to others.

The vulnerability in writing thrills me. Anxiety and excitement, two sides of the same coin, play themselves out whenever I publicly share my works. I wonder if this is how gamblers feel, a mix of the fear of loss (in a writer’s case criticism or rejection) with the potential of a big win. But what constitutes a, “big win” for an amateur writer?

A couple of years ago when I first started to blog a friend at the time asked me in a rather negative way, “Why would you think anyone would want to read what you have to write?”  This question haunts me every time I click the, “publish” button on the Blogger website.

My answer to that friend’s antagonistic remark has changed since I initially responded. At the time my response was a self-protecting, “I write for me and no one else.” Although, when I think about writing now, especially through the lens of nurturing abundance in my life, I know that writing isn’t just about me. My soul longs to positively impact at least a few people through my written word. Whether it is presenting a new viewpoint, offering a funny story or perhaps showing others that they too can write.

So, I will continue to write with abundance and hopefully some self-love and compassion.

Abundance #3

Abundance #3

Sometimes Mary doesn’t show up.

I had a rough meeting today. Not that this is totally out of the ordinary. I have grown accustomed to the daily possibility that things can go south in the types of emotionally charged meetings that I either lead or attend. Angry, sad or confused parents are common and so are school staff members who want clear, professional answers about students. I’ve learned to open myself to the fact that anything could happen: good, bad or otherwise.

I’ve learned to open myself up, take my time, breathe, relax and most importantly listen. The other thing I do is invite Mary into the space. Yes, as in the Mother of God or as I like to think of her the feminine divine. I notice a grounding when I do this and possibilities seem to present themselves where doors seemed closed before. This practice also helps me to remember there is something greater than our educational team sitting around that table and in a very real way I feel that I can more easily keep the students’ and families’ needs in mind.

Today, Mary didn’t show up.

As today’s meeting progressed not only was it hijacked by the largest ego in the room, the needs of the student were being pushed to the side. Inexperience, ignorance and a lack of professionalism took over. I attempted to regain control. I failed. I attempted to gently add meaningful input. It was blocked. All of my strategies failed and to make things worse I started to get mad. Then I knew I needed to sit back and breathe and focus on something good and positive.

I felt I needed to give up on Mary and hope for a rainbow and unicorn.

Then, I looked at the student’s mom. I realized that I had always liked her and I can tell she truly cares for her child. As the ill-advised participant was capitalizing the meeting, I focused on the mom and my angry, rapid heartbeat settled. I considered my word, “abundance” and mustered ways to manifest abundance right there and then. Self-love, compassion (even for the ill-advised one) and letting go of control swam through my mind. I smiled and thought about how this meeting was not about whether or not my professional knowledge was being recognized but rather it was about the child and her mother.

Mary showed up.

Abundance #2

Abundance #2

I made a mistake. Not a big one, mind you but I admit, I did screw up and not in just one-way. My error was that my previous blog entry was not actually the first time I had written about abundance yet I titled it, “Abundance #1.” I also noticed that I missed a couple of typos while I was editing.

“Why does this matter?” you might be wondering and to be honest I really don’t think it does. However, my reactions to the mistake(s) are signposts for me that point to growth. Perhaps emotional, perhaps spiritual, perhaps both or maybe neither.

Let me clarify. I have spent some time reflecting on what makes an abundant life. Since this is my word and my vision for the year, I thought it would be useful to parse out what helps to build abundance and what strips life of it. One of the first things I had to face was that perfectionism, in any form, simply is not part of the equation. Attempted perfectionism is at best futile and at worst miserably destructive.

I had to examine the fact, that at least within me, the desire to be perfect was and is fear-based with hints of superstition. “If I do this right and that right and make no errors than nothing bad will happen.” I am fully aware that this thinking is firmly rooted in my dysfunctional upbringing but others along the way have contributed to this neurotic, life sucking cauldron of non-sense.

Interactions with those who feel the need to elevate themselves through corrections of my grammar, spelling or semantic prowess have left their mark. Snide remarks about my behavior at a social gathering or worse yet highly intense interactions about updated, high-end cabinetry that I do not have my house (and never realized I needed) have caused me to be on high alert in regard to the way I speak, act and the material items I should or shouldn’t want.

Well, I am here to tell you that this silliness is stopping, because I am choosing abundance over of the useless pursuit of perfection. I am choosing lightness and abundant self-love over trying to be smarter, better behaved or more stylish than others. Attempting to achieve the later might be either the definition of insanity or hell.

So, my friends I apologize for the redundant blog titles, the typos, the fragments, the swear words and the 1980s cabinets. To me embracing the mess is the fastest path to abundance.

Abundance #1

Abundance #1

Today was Easter, the end of Lent. In the Christian tradition this signifies resurrection of Jesus. I like to think of it as the symbolic marking of all of life’s rebirths. Since the beginning of the year I have been focused on a vision and with this vision is a word for the year and this word is, “abundance.” I have taken the time to draw out a vision board and process through this idea both physically and mentally. I am not going to pretend to know what this activity might hold for me going forward but I do know what I have seen in myself thus far and I am fairly certain that the concept of resurrection is very much in the forefront.

As I walked into church today a regular parishioner who I know somewhat well asked me how tall I am. I thought this question was interesting given the fact I usually only get asked when I am wearing heels and my height towers to 6’. “5-9” I answered. She wondered if I had to wear flats when I was married. Again, this questioning was off putting given that fact that I am by no means a newlywed. “Yes. I did wear flats,” answering as if I was citing from a history text. She dropped the questioning.

My height has been an intermittent point of both pride and frustration since high school. I was always slightly taller than the other girls, reaching 5’7” by my senior year. There were always the petite girls who would cheep, “The boys like me because I am little!” This was always off putting and confusing because the boys liked me too. By the time I got to college I had grown 2 inches and felt looming and difficult to miss. I was blessed with friends who equated my height to that of fashion models but when I look back through pictures I notice I slumped or threw a hip out to better match my contemporaries; in essence to make myself smaller.

When I started having babies, I was more concerned with what my body could do than how vertical my body stood. I gained pride in the fact that I could birth these strong, healthy souls. For more than a decade, my focus (in regard to my body) had been health and performance (as in, can I lift the filled Costco box from the cart to the trunk of my minivan). Then I began to notice a phenomenon. There is something that happens with middle-aged women. It is a kind of second adolescence. All of the sudden I have noticed an uptick in comments about bodies: short, tall, fat, slim, strong, flabby etc… And with this rekindling of concern regarding physical appearance, my height cannot be left alone.

My frustration with these comments is real but I believe they do not deserve the time to even address them. The same goes for any dialogue regarding human bodies unless there is concern for that person’s health (either too thin or too heavy).

So, here is the resurrection part: My word is abundance. My vision is abundance. My dead younger self tried to make herself smaller. My re-birthed abundant self will be tall and strong. Abundant in height and abundant in self-love. Just the way God designed me to be.