My Son’s Gift

My Son’s Gift

William just celebrated his 11th birthday and I’ve been reflecting on how much our relationship has improved over the last 7 years.

I wrote extensively about the transformation in our relationship on my previous blog The Dream to Write (and some of it is covered in my essay collection Winter to Spring) but basically over a turbulent 6 month period when William was 4 and I was 37 we became restored to one other.

I just finished another edit of my unpublished manuscript Falling Backwards Into Grace and this section about William brings me to tears every time:

“William was the catalyst who forced me, kicking and screaming, to my knees. He eventually led me from performance to grace. My gratitude to my son is as limitless as the horizon of the sky; it goes on forever and will never reach an end, but of course I did not know that then.

In order to rebuild, we must first break down. When your faith and your worldview is built out of cards on quicksand like mine was, adding another flimsy layer will not address your mammoth foundation crisis. I had been adding more cards for so long that the whole structure was ready to collapse, and William’s personality was the match to light the flame and burn the whole useless thing to the ground.”

His refusal to bend to the pressure I placed on him saved me from my own invisible palace of denial, perfectionism and rage. He helped me warm up to my neglected personality qualities that had gone dormant but never fully disappeared. These qualities gave me back my authentic self.

I truly believe the best thing we can do as parents is to be open to truth, in any form, and be willing to let go of old ideas and fears that no longer add anything to our lives. This acceptance brings complete freedom, for it allows us to stop working for the approval of others and begin to finally own that right for ourselves.

William gave me this gift. It was the furthest thing from easy, but all lasting change brings agony at first. If you are in this kind of emotional pain right now, I urge you to keep going, for the only way out is through. Don’t retreat, longing for simpler shores. Keep trudging, for one day you will be different and so grateful you did not quit.

Happy Birthday, my wonderful boy. You’ve come a long way. I’m so proud of you. Marvellous things are ahead and I love that we will discover them together. I know that you can do hard things because I’ve seen you face them and conquer them already. It’s okay to be afraid. We are all afraid, but courage is your fear on the move.

If you are a parent, struggling with your beloved child, know that you are not alone. The meaning lives in the hardship and in the not knowing. Be open to owning your mistakes. Look for the truth beyond your limited interpretation of the events. Know that you and your kid are both good enough. You’ll make it through.

If you knew where William and I had once been – screaming at each other, fighting, fuming, accusing and blaming – you would be amazed at where we are now with our mother and son bond. Change and growth are entirely possible and I’m so thankful.

So Much to Celebrate

So Much to Celebrate

My daughter Ava is turning 14 and like most parents, I’m feeling nostalgic. It’s so easy to get lost in the memories of her big baby grin, how cute she looked in white Osh Kosh baby shoes and a pink-and-white striped dress, or fresh from a bath, snuggly and warm in her fuzzy footy sleepers.

All of these memories are good, but nostalgia is a fairly useless exercise. When we wallow too much in it, we miss what is right in front of us. A 14 year old is a radically different creature from an infant, or the eager 5 year old starting school, or the 10 year old crying about how mean some girls can be.

Ava is, of course, made up of every age she’s ever been, the way all of us are, but the job at hand is to celebrate her 14 year old self instead of pining for what’s now in the past. And there is so much to celebrate.

She was such an easy baby, toddler, young child and older child that many people said to me, “Just you wait until she’s a teenager. If they are easy when they are young, they will be a handful when they are older.” It’s not true yet and I know anything can still happen but all signs point to Ava continuing on this responsible path.

It sounds banal to say how proud I am of her, but the bottom line is that she has always made the whole mothering gig look easy for me. She is her own true self while still being generous to others. She is a fierce feminist with way more courage than I ever had in my teens to speak out about what she believes in.

Helping her reach for her acting dream has been immensely satisfying to me. I feel as if I’m picking up a thread that began to unravel in my early twenties and now Ava is sewing it into something meaningful and worthwhile. Nothing in this life is wasted. It comes back to us, when we least expect it, in a different form. It means so much to watch her find success in this beautiful pursuit of performance art.

As parents, we must continually practice letting go of our beloved children. We do not own them. They are not ours. They have their own lives and dreams and passions. We facilitate, we advise, we stay close for when they need us. But we also practice launching them into their own independence and refusing to be afraid of how it will all turn out.

Mistakes are how we grow, no matter what age and stage we are at. Learning to risk and accepting that failure is tied to success is an important part of the parenting journey. I can’t wait to see where Ava goes next. I love the person she is and is becoming and I’m proud of the relationship we’ve built.

It’s hard to wrap my brain around only having another 4 years where she will be living under our roof for sure. But the goal of parenting is to take a dependent baby and turn them into an independent adult. I feel like we are on our way to seeing this goal be a reality and that is worth celebrating.

Be Bold for Change

Be Bold for Change

Wednesday, March 8th is International Women’s Day and the theme for 2017 is Be Bold for Change. My almost 14-year-old daughter Ava spent time this weekend creating a poster for her school for this important day. The slogan she came up with? I’d rather shatter a glass ceiling than fit into a glass slipper.

BOOM. I’m so proud to be her mother. Frankly, I’m pissed right off that we are still talking about how women should be paid the same as men and receive the same basic human rights as men. We are 17 years into a new millennium, and yet as a world we continue to struggle when it comes to equality, inclusivity and justice for those who did not happen to be born as white men.

This year, I plan to be bold. And when my courage falters, I will look to Ava and her friends, for they will carry this torch on far beyond me. They will not accept the double standard that I’ve seen far too often. They will speak up and be bold and call out the hypocrisy they witness. I’m convinced they will finally get us a fairer world.

Women have issued a challenge on Wednesday to go on strike, in an effort to prove that a Day Without a Woman has a huge impact. I’m all for this concept. I hope it works. As a continuation of the global outcry after the U.S. inauguration that resulted in enormous women’s marches in cities all around the world, I’d love to see this strike concept fly.

But I also know that real, lasting change comes slowly and it starts in individual hearts. Rob Bell recently spoke about the need for a counter narrative to unite those marching and protesting. This message struck a resonant chord for me. What is our counter narrative?

It has to centre on love and peace, the way the women’s march did. But it also needs a bit of fire and boldness to it, like this strike is calling for. I’m grateful that smarter people than me are involved in these matters. Something is crying out in my heart and I don’t yet know exactly what it is.

When I watched Ava hunched over her poster in her bedroom, I felt like weeping. From pride but also an intense grief, that this world is such a damn broken mess for her. I yearn for beauty, kindness, understanding, intelligent discourse, friendship and acceptance. And yet what we are mired in this year is anger, misogyny, racism, cruelty, ignorance and bitter division. I want to believe we are better than this.

Let it begin with me. All change comes from this place. We do not see the world as it is, we see it how we are. So I must be love, peace, gender equality, authenticity and warmth. I must choose hope in spite of my fear and sadness. I must seek out light, for a few brave candles can light up the darkest night. Now is the time to believe that goodness will prevail, especially when we see little evidence of it.

This Wednesday, let’s reach out to one another and say, “I see you and I support you.” Let’s be generous with our kind words and our smiles. Let’s be bold for change and shatter glass ceilings instead of slippers. Let’s do it together, for as a group we are more powerful and effective. Let’s build our counter narrative. We were born for such a time as this.

Ask for What You Want

Ask for What You Want

We often spend far too much time afraid to ask for what we want. But what’s the worst that can happen? The person or company you approached tells you no. So what? Then you can move on to someone else and see what they say.

I used to be so afraid of looking stupid and that would stop me from asking for what I wanted. I was less worried about rejection than I was about embarrassment. But now I’m in my mid-forties and I finally feel more secure in who I am, so I’m willing to look a bit foolish from time to time.

Recently I put myself out there to an editor that I really respect with what I knew was an unusual request but I filed it under the “nothing ventured, nothing gained” category. Well, the response was polite but essentially I was told that what I was asking was unprofessional.

Cue the shame spiral. I started to go down, fast and hard, berating myself about burning bridges and looking like a classic moron. But then I grabbed myself by the metaphorical lapels and talked myself through it, in a gentle, soothing voice. “It didn’t hurt to ask. It’s good to think outside of the box and go for it. A ‘no’ here is not a ‘no’ everywhere. Don’t worry so much about it.”

Giving ourselves permission to fail is just as important as building up our own confidence. We have to know that we aren’t going to get everything we want, but the lesson is in summoning the courage to ask the question. It’s good for my soul to step up, face my fear of doing it wrong in some vague manner, and be willing to accept whatever answer I receive.

Living small doesn’t serve any of us. It’s beyond time to move past that terrified reverence of the gatekeepers to our biggest dreams. The decision-makers in any organization are people just like you and me. I’m determined to keep trying new ideas until I find the right place for them, because the process of trying to innovate brings me life and stirs my passion.

Will I make mistakes? Most definitely. It’s so wonderful to be able to extend grace to myself when I hear yet another no. Asking the question takes guts and that’s worth celebrating. Eventually, somewhere in the future, there may come a yes. And if I never get to the yes, I’ll find another new question to ask and maybe that one will be more successful.

The bottom line is: life is short. We all have things we desperately want. Playing it safe doesn’t inch us closer to those dreams. You may as well ask for what you want. I’m tired of waiting. When I have an idea now, I don’t want to overthink it to death. I want to act on it, and see what happens, for one day it’s going to connect with the right person at the right time and then a new opportunity will be born.

Showing Up is Brave

Showing Up is Brave

Often we think it’s the big gesture that counts as bravery, but it’s not. Showing up is enough. It means we are invested in developing our own courage and that we care enough to be present with other people.

My beloved hero Anne Lamott says, “The people who show up are inevitably the right ones.” The older I get, the more strongly I adhere to this truth. When life is hard and we feel beaten down, we demonstrate bravery when we simply show up.

This week I fly to Edmonton to present three sessions at a teachers’ convention (the first of three I will be speaking at this February and March). I love speaking, particularly when the message I’m delivering is one I believe to the core of my soul, but that doesn’t mean my knees won’t still knock together when I stand in front of 200+ teachers and attempt to keep them engaged and interested for an hour.

When I feel nervous, I repeat Rob Bell’s mantra, “Butterflies mean you are in the game.” I’m challenging myself by submitting speaking proposals all over the place and when I get offered contracts, I have to believe that just showing up is what I’m called to do. It’s brave enough just to do the best I can.

I adore the song in La La Land that Emma Stone’s character sweetly sings for courage in one key audition scene. She sings, “Here’s to the ones who dream, foolish as they may seem, here’s to the hearts that ache, here’s to the mess we make.” So incredibly beautiful, inspiring and true to my experience.

It’s normal for our hearts to ache and for our dreams to seem impossibly big and hard to achieve. But when we take small steps toward our highest hopes and aspirations, these moments are for celebrating. I’m really working on it being enough, exactly as the journey unfolds, instead of keening for better, different, more extravagant.

Does it seem easier just to show up? It does to me, for it means that the analysis of what I’m presenting or writing or creating is not up to me. The audience gets to decide if it meets their needs or fails to meet their expectations. My part of the bargain is to be prepared, to show up and say what I have to say. I’m going to trust that it’s enough.

If you have something to do that scares you, know that you are on the right track. You can do the things you don’t think you are ready for. You’ll never feel completely ready. At a certain point, you have to jump. This is how you stave off boredom and stagnation – you follow your curiosity and stay ahead of your own comfort level. That’s the growing zone. It’s where we feel most alive.

Try it. Believe that you will have what it takes at the moment you are thrust into the challenging situation. You won’t have any assurances while you are thinking about it and preparing for it. You’ll just have to trust that you will be up to the task. That’s what I’m doing, and so far it’s working. Showing up is brave. It feels like soaring when you’ve proven to yourself that you do, indeed, have what it takes.