We’ve made it half way through this crazy week–this blurry of furry–this ‘just hold on with both hands for the ride’ week–and I’m so thankful for the rain–that has slowed our insane schedule down somewhat. I dream of sleep. It sounds so lovely. I think I could do it for days. Waking up today and thinking it was Friday didn’t help. And our weekends are just as packed as our weeks. But summer is coming soon. Exhale! School will be out, homework will be done (no more math questions for this mommy–yay!!! I can not begin to tell you how happy that makes me!). My kids will begin to get a reasonable amount of sleep once again and all will be less crazy and less insane for a few months. I can tread water and hold my breath till then. I can because I get to. This is an incredible blessing. I know this. I SO know this. I am very lucky. My blessings require a lot of energy, none the less. We’re all in the same boat. The American way of life, no less…
This world is in the business of busy. I try to savor as much as I can from running here to there and back again–and being a quiet, enjoying and treasuring the little things kind of person–the sanctity of the simple–this is tough–because life is loud and NOW and so needy of our everything so quickly–often without thanks and without so much as a ‘how do you do’. So we go about our days–rushing, running, being–but not really being. And trying to be present in this? Well, it’s madness. And that’s when I get a little crazy, sad, and crabby (which all comes from the lack of sleep too)–because I SO want this life for my boys, for myself, to be the authentic, beautiful, majestic, divine, creation it can be. Not just a busy calendar or planner full of check lists–where we truly SEE each other–not just parallel exist.
I got a beautiful message from a friend today. It is SO incredibly uncanny because it’s like she inherently knows when I need these things. She will call out of the blue when I am struggling and tell me she’s thinking of me. Send me cards, gifts, just BE there in ways she always is at the times she always is with such adept timing — I wonder at times if she is more angel than human friend. It’s just so amazing this beautiful soul’s timing. And I so deeply love this girl. My youngest, as it were, asked me last week–“Mommy, do you love me more than Summer?”. And it brought such happy tears to my eyes–and a little giggle (as G often makes me giggle)–because I wish this kind of friendship for my boys. And I am just blown away by the blessing of such friendship — completely. And I started looking around at all the amazing people I have in my life–starting with my beautiful boys–and moving to my incredible friendships–and started wondering–what is it that I want for them, for me–in this mad rush of life? What is it that makes me stop, take pause, take a breath, a moment? What is it that we are often missing from each other?
I look at my boys–and I know for them and many of my friends–and for myself too–it is to be seen. How often do we truly feel seen? As in my beautiful friend’s words and actions, she reminds me that I am here for a reason, valued, appreciated, and loved–and who doesn’t want that? But how many times do we receive that, feel that, connect with that in a human sense? I want to be seen, truly, for me. Intrinsically for who I am. The skin and bones, the nature of the individual–and who has time for that anymore, right? Stopping to tell Max that I love him for the amazing heart he has, the concern and love he shows for others, his thoughtfulness, his kindness, his respect, and his willingness to always do what is right–to tell him that, to show him that “I know this is who you are and I LOVE this about you.” That’s important to him. That’s important to me. To tell Griffyn that I love his endless hugs and kisses, how he makes me laugh–like every single day–that I love how he loves to read and could sit and read books with me for hours and hours and hours and how he loves to makes crafts, to run around with him outside because finding bugs is like finding gold treasure–to acknowledge his loves–acknowledges I know him–his authentic self–what makes him unique, special–to validate his individuality–I’m telling him, “I see you, I know you, I am AWARE of you, and I love you. Who you ARE is pretty amazing. Your makeup, your being, all that stuff inside of you that makes you YOU. I love it. All of it. Phenomenal stuff you’ve got going on. I see it, kid. And I love it.” How often do we do this in relationships? I would venture to say–not enough.
I’ve never been a huge fan of sports. My oldest LOVES baseball. I love him. You see where I’m going with this. We play catch, I go to a million (okay, so it only feels like it) games. The same with soccer, basketball, and football. And I love it because I love my boys. Every minute of it. I kid you not. I’m cheering and yelling with more passion than I’ve felt about my favorite Jane Austen novel. It’s quite crazy really. And my boys appreciate me being there, supporting them. It all goes together. A little digression, yes. That’s something you’d see often about me if you saw me… (smile).
Seeing each other. Really seeing each other. Not just expecting or demanding things from one another. Appreciating. Valuing. Seeing. This takes time. Ahhhh, but the BEST, and the most authentic relationships beget the seeing.
And not all the seeing is pretty. And that’s okay too. Really. Because perfect isn’t authentic either. We’re not always pretty. We don’t always talk nice. Ugly stuff happens. And sometimes things fall apart. But when you’ve been seen, you know you’re allowed, and it’s okay, and you’ll be okay–and you’ll even be helped and you’ll even be safe and you’ll even be this thing called supported–maybe even before you know you need it.
When I was very little until I was not so very little–let’s just say for most of my life or for a very, very long time–I wasn’t seen. Growing up was very hard for me and my childhood was more of a survival than a coming of age story. I can finally, truly, say–I don’t regret it. I don’t understand it, and I don’t have to. At some point, your life has to be lived and absolutely nothing you can do can change what has happened. It’s very sad to me still. I still can’t talk about it without crying. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, but I know it made me the person I am today and I am really proud of that person. One small, yet very big thing I have always taken with me is that I never, ever want anyone–child or adult–to ever feel the way I felt in any of those moments–ever. Ever. And once again–ever. This often starts, very simply, by allowing a person to be seen…
Here’s to seeing with open hearts and with kindness which is always possible. Always.
Much love to you all…