A Letter to My Mum

 

[Article written by yours truly :) --  originally written for and published by THAT MAMA CLUB . Reposted on my own blog with permission!]

To my dearest mother:

I am sorry that I did not understand.

When I was younger, I did not fully understand the impact of pregnancy on one’s body. I was

not aware of the ways in which your body and mind had to stretch and grow in order to

accommodate the growing child (me!) within you.

I did not understand the fatigue you felt as you recovered from your deliveries and then

comforted and fed babies all day and then overnight. I didn’t know the effort that went into

bringing me into the world and the length of time required to fully recover from that

momentous event.

I did not understand the psychological, emotional, and physical exertion involved with feeding

your littlest loves. I wasn’t aware that women struggled so much with the decision (or lack of

decision) to breastfeed or not to breastfeed. I didn’t know about the heightened sense of

responsibility you felt as you were the primary nourishment for your child.

I did not understand the tremendous amounts of energy that you poured into your daughters

every day. I didn’t realize how much effort it took to make sure your young children were well-

fed, had diapers changed, went potty, went down for naps, and stayed safe from all hazards.

I did not understand the worries you felt. You worried about whether we were happy, healthy,

eating enough, kind to other children, and grateful. Most of all, you just wanted us to know

how absolutely loved we were (and are!).

I did not understand how you could feel isolated and lonely while home with your three tiny

beings. It would not have made sense to me then; there were people around you, only these

people required your time and attention. We couldn’t give back to you as much as you were

giving to us.

I did not understand why you awakened at 5 am each day to squeeze in your prayer time and

coffee in the silence. It sounded strange to me to set an alarm so early just to have those

precious moments to yourself.

I did not understand the sacrifices you made in your own career and personal life so that you

would be as available to us as possible. I didn’t think about how, in becoming a mother, you had

to give up some components of your life before children.

I did not understand how your heart hurt when one of us was sick. I could not yet know how

one person’s body and being could be so intertwined with another’s.

I did not understand the cognitive effort that went into planning every meal, carpool, vacation,

holiday, playdate—and the list goes on and on. I saw you working, but I just didn’t comprehend

the vastness of the to-do list.

I did not understand the communication and attentiveness it required to stay on top of the

school, work, and activity schedules of our family of five. We were absolutely busy, and in my

eyes, it was easy to have it all fall right into place. It felt seamless.

I did not understand your frustration when you had to remind us over and over again to do our

chores and to participate in the family responsibilities. It didn’t seem to be a big deal to me

then.

I did not understand how hard you and dad worked to ensure your marriage remained strong

and everlasting. I didn’t know that it took a conscious effort to be sure you were not drifting

apart amid the chaos of everyday young family life.

I did not understand, but still, I was grateful. I was thankful to have you as my mom and to have

dad as my dad.

And now I am a grown woman and wife, and I have three young, vibrant daughters, myself.

And I know.

I do now understand more of how you may have been feeling.

I wish I would have been able to know it then, but that, of course, is not how life works.

So, please know how utterly grateful I am to you for the decades of your life that you’ve poured

into nourishing and loving me and my sisters.

And of course, amidst all the craziness of having little children, I do now also know the absolute,

unconditional love that I feel toward my own children. And I know, without a doubt, that you

cherished (and cherish!) that love, too. I know what an incredible impact each of my children

has had in my life and how each child allows me to love greater and greater. I know the

precious feel of their snuggles and the delicate sound of their voices. I know so intimately how

these little people are helping to fulfill my life’s mission and to make my life more full and

complete—in such a beautiful way. And I know that you know all of that, too.

I love you so much.

Aren’t we the luckiest?

About Mental Health and Wholeness...

One person I am grateful to know in 2021 is my mental health therapist.

I recently read an article during which the author mentions her therapist and follows that up with "Yes, I see a therapist, and you should, too!" I laughed and thought, "You go, girl!"

While I understand that seeing a therapist is not for everyone, I do believe it is worth every person at least considering.

Could you benefit from seeing a therapist? If you answer yes to any number of these questions, perhaps it is worth considering in 2021:

• Are you a human being?
• Do you have family members who are human beings?
• Do you interact with human beings on a regular basis?
• Are you raising tiny human beings?
• Have you been living through 2020 and now the first 10 days of 2021?
• Do you push emotions down deep into your toes?
• Do you have a history of trauma or abuse?
• Have you ever lost someone you loved?
  
• Do you feel overwhelmed by your to-do list at home or at work?
• Do you have problems with boundaries?
• Are you not sure that you know what boundaries are?
• Would you like help in learning to live the whole breadth of emotions and life?

One of the main things (of thousands, of course!) that first drew me to my sweet husband was his emotional intelligence. Seriously. If you know my goofy and light-hearted Kurt, you may laugh at this. But truly!  He is (mostly!) a wise man. I credit some of this to his decision, in his late twenties, to seek out a therapist for himself. He didn't totally connect to his first or even second therapist, but he kept persevering and did find a great match. I am so proud of young Kurt for doing this. Good job, Past Kurt!

[If you're still reading this and are looking for a funny story about a therapist: The first time Kurt went out to dinner with me and my parents, he secretly pointed to a table next to us and whispered to me: "This is a little awkward, but that's the lady I used to see." I looked over and saw a woman, probably in her mid-sizties, who was beautiful and graceful. I was pretty confused throughout our meal, as I admittedly didn't know everything about Kurt at this point but was surprised he hadn't told me about a much older girlfriend. It turns out 'the lady he used to see' was his therapist. We have come to affectionally call her 'the cougar.']

It doesn't have to be about mental illness, friends. It very well could simply be about mental health and wholeness. 

Not an ad for therapists, just a PSA from your self-care-loving friend!

BEing in 2020.

Teaching the lady to be.

To be:

Resilient.

Resourceful.

Powerful.

Calm.

Steady.

Assertive.

Empowered.

Persistent.

Tenacious.

Dearest 2020:

There are so many things I'd like to say to you, but I will stick with a simple 'thank you.' 

This year, we were forced to become so much more, to be pushed outside of our comfort zone, to press pause and assess what matters most. We have redirected, shifted course, and adapted again. We have waited-- patiently and not so patiently. We have been forced into difficult conversations and decisions. We have disagreed, we have been angry and hurt, and we have persevered. We have trudged on despite the hardships. We have clung to what matters most. We have mourned. We have sat alone. We have stayed inside. We have been creative and adventurous within our limits. We have been benevolent. We have been courageous and selfless. We have prayed and worshipped in our homes. We have cared about the other. We have worn our masks, we have volunteered, and we have fought. We have gotten into necessary trouble. We have worked together while standing apart.

We have rested in ambiguity and unease.

While I was feeling particularly overwhelmed and exhausted in 2015, I started writing more in my journal and in this little blog. I was running around doing all the things, and I just needed to learn to sit and BE. I was quite literally teaching the lady-- me-- to be. And now, five years later, I am blessed with the opportunity to teach three more little ladies to simply be. To be resilient, strong, empowered, tenacious, and persistent. (Among other things, of course! I'm all for compassion, empathy, humility, patience (eek!), and gratitude!)  What a chance I have had-- we have all had-- to practice all these things in the year of 2020. In a year where we can't do much other than simply BE, we have found much more strength within our beings. 2020 is the mascot of 'teachingtheladytobe.'

I am very aware that this process of learning to BE is an ongoing endeavor. Each of us, until we take our last breath, is a work in progress. In the early weeks of 2021, I am planning to reflect more on how I have been stretched in 2020. How have I grown and shown resilience, and how can I best carry these attributes into the new year-- and years/decades-- to come? Of what have I let go? What have I breathed out, and what have I embraced? How can I continue to positively impact my own being, my family, my friends, my community, and my world while simultaneously giving myself rest, grace, and time and space to simply be? What do I need to hug more tightly, and what do I need to kick to the curb in 2021?

Cheers to a new year, a fresh start, and a stronger, more resilient YOU, friend!  I believe in every piece of you.

And SO LONG, 2020. Thank you for teaching us that we are mightier than we think.

Sincerely,

Lizzie

Calling All Saints!

To date, during these pandemic times, I have not yet felt comfortable physically returning to mass. Initially, my family and I were stellar home-church goers. We would line up our chairs for our 10 am mass service, just as we were, in fact, preparing to physically go to mass. More recently, though, sadly, our diligence of attending Sunday mass has wained. Early in the morning, we talk about watching mass online but instead eat a big, slow breakfast around the table and go on a walk through the neighborhood. Kurt and I will plan to watch mass while the girls nap, and by the time the girls are asleep, we are so exhausted that we also snooze on the couch.

We are making plans to do better, because we want to do better. We are SO missing mass.

In the last few weeks, though, while it's not exactly the same, I have been listening to the recorded Three Holy Women masses during my commutes to and from work. It has been lovely. Just the peace (piece!) that I am craving.

During last Sunday's mass, which was the Feast Day of All Saints, Fr. John Baumgardner gave such a beautiful introduction to mass. I've listened to it over and over again, as I feel it is a beautiful way to capture how we want to-- and try to!-- live our lives. 

Fr. John began by sharing this quote from St. Mother Teresa: "Holiness is not the luxury of the few, but rather, it is the simple task, the simple invitation, for all of us." He then went on to say, "Please know, especially in the times in which we find ourselves in, that your efforts to live holiness, often in the small and creative and hidden ways of life, that they're noticed, they're appreciated, and that we just pray that all of us may persevere joyfully in that call and that pathway to holiness."

Your efforts to live holiness, often in

the small

and creative

and hidden 

ways of life--

they're noticed!

They're appreciated!

And let us persevere joyfully!

Oh, what a gift from Father John! I just adore this. Since hearing his introductory prayer and welcome, I have been thinking about ways in which I, personally, can weave in creative ways of holiness and about ways that I see others secretly and graciously living out their call to holiness.

I see holiness in the city bus driver who enthusiastically waves and honks at my toddler who is yelling "BUS!" and flailing her arms in his direction with all the excitement a 2-year-old can muster.

I see holiness in my colleagues who are bringing their A-games and suiting up in goggles and N95s before each new client that we greet and (hopefully!) lift up.

I see holiness in the man who pulls Junie's scooter out of the street after she has a mini wipe-out coming down a hill. (Of note, a little boo boo on her knee, but she is otherwise just fine! And has further learned about the kindness of others!)

I see holiness in my 7-year-old neighbor boy who comes over and sits in our front yard to read books to his tiny neighbor friends.

I see holiness in the middle school students singing songs and riding down the street on their bikes. 

I see holiness in the elderly woman at the grocery store, smiling at me through her mask and wishing me a happy day.

I see holiness in the teachers, discovering new ways to teach, motivate, and support their virtual learners. 

I see holiness in each of us, respecting one another and striving to understand one another's perspective.

I see holiness in my sisters, as they awaken at 11 pm... and 2 am... and 5 am... to feed and comfort their hungry little newborns.

I see holiness in my dad, singing praises and songs of thanksgiving to God while enduring his immunotherapy treatments and awaiting his next scan results.

I see holiness in my mom, awakening at dawn each morning to sip coffee, read her devotional, and pray for her family and friends who are in need of God's comfort and nourishment-- and then continuing on to provide immense support for her family in every tangible way.

I see holiness in sweet Kurt, busting it during the day and coming home to dote on-- and cook for!-- his four ladies.

And I see holiness in you. 

Yes, you. :) And all of your little creative and hidden ways that you are loving on yourself and on others.

As Father John and Saint Mother Teresa so beautifully pointed out, we are all called to sainthood. You are invited to be a saint. And what a beautiful job you are doing!

[Please enjoy the below photos of Saint Naomi, Saint Rose, and Saint June just shining their lights and doing their things!]

Celebrating Grands!

Scrolling back through my old photos, videos, and memories, I was touched by all of my documented happy memories with Grandma, Grandpa, Papa, and Nana. We are so lucky. Both at work and in my personal life, I see so often the incredible impact grandparents have on the lives of their grandbabies. I've met grandparents serving as guardians, as friends, as teachers, as chauffeurs, as cheerleaders, and as role models. Grandparents are seriously the real MVPs.

Here are 26 reasons why our grandparents are number 1:

1. They break into tears upon hugging you after 4 long weeks apart.

2. They put the Puffs directly into your mouth so that your 6-month-old fingers don't have to work too hard.

3. They crochet you baby blankets and hats for your baby dolls.

4. They grow flowers so that you can smell, pick, and adore them.

5. They babysit so that Mom and Dad can catch a break!

6. They walk on their hands to entertain you.

7. They surprise you with a new playground in their backyard.

8. They buy you a life insurance policy. :)

9. They put your picture on a billboard.

10. They have converted their office into a spare bedroom for you.

11. They have your name (and the names of your cousins!), as well as your artwork, decorating an entire bedroom wall. 

12. They teach you how to hit a baseball.

13. They wear your picture (and all of your cousins' pictures) on their tie.

14. They make up games to play with you.

15. They bake warm chocolate chip cookies with and for you and your parents!

16. They come watch your gymnastics, soccer, swimming, and music classes.

17. They buy you a bike 4 months before your birthday just so you don't miss out on an extra summer of fun.

18. They wear your picture (and all of your cousins' pictures!) on their mask.

19. They lay on the floor to play puzzles, "Super Baby," and "See-saw" with you.

20. They fill their fridge with chocolate milk and their freezer with ice cream before each visit.

21. They take you on long kayak rides through Lake Michigan.

22. They throw on their bathing suits and hop in to make bath-time even more fun.

23. They place shoes, bibs, and stuffed animals on their heads to make you laugh.

24. They read you story after story after story after story-- until you fall asleep.

25. They sew your pants when you rip holes in the knees.

26. They teach you about Jesus' love for you and for all!

                                                   

Resting in Ambiguity

In light of recent (non-COVID-related) challenging news that I have received, I have been thinking more and more to myself: “Man, everything is so darn ambiguous right now! I just want answers!”

 And, YES, everything today IS certainly ambiguous.

In the midst of [im!]patiently waiting for the world to return to a more predictable, more comfortable state, I found myself Googling [Shout out to Merriam-Webster and Oxford English Dictionaries] the definition of “ambiguity:”

Ambiguity (noun): 

• A word or expression that can be understood in two or more possible ways.

• Uncertainty  

• Inexactness       

I’ve read and have heard on many accounts in the past month that we are living in ‘uncertain’ times, and that is true. But the word ‘inexactness?’ THAT resonates with me. Everything feels so inexact, and I, for one, am not particularly a fan.

·      When will an effective vaccine be ready?

·      When will tests become more readily available for our community?

·      When will owners be able to re-open their restaurants, shops, and salons?

·      When will surgeries and other medical appointments, which have previously been considered quite urgent, be scheduled?

Hey, COVID!
Naomi has a message for you.

·      Are my young children noticing these changes; are they confused?

·      When will I be able to visit my relatives again?

·      Is a second wave going to come? When? How intense will it be? How can we best help mitigate the risk?

·      What will our economy look like in 2 months? 2 years? 10 years?

·      For how long will the (AMAZING! INCREDIBLE! HERO!) frontline workers be able to maintain this pace, and how do we best support them and their mental and physical health?

·      I just sneezed; could this be Coronavirus? 

The list of questions goes on and on.

Years ago, when I was feeling particularly stressed about a decision, my MUCH older and wiser husband (haha!) lovingly reminded me that part of life is learning to sit in the ambiguity. Is it comfortable? No. Would I prefer to be sure? To have clear answers? For things to be stable? Heck yes.

My sweet husband reminds me that:

1. The past is finite.
2. There are infinite possibilities of what the future may hold.
3. Today-- this current moment-- is what we have.

To stress about what may happen... to invent hypothetical scenarios in my mind... to marinate on worst-case scenarios... just is not a very healthy or helpful practice. In Luke 12:25, this question is posed: "Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to your life?" 

So, while I would prefer to have more answers, I will instead muster my courage and rest in the inexactness of the present day. Here is my resting-in-ambiguity quarantine to do list:

• Continue my social distancing/curve-flattening efforts with my family.
• Choose joy.

• Focus on gratitude.

• Be gentle with myself-- and with others.

• Connect with my loved ones frequently.

• Take deep, grounding breaths.

• Move my body.

• Give (and receive!) at least 11 hugs per day-- the magic number, I hear!!

• Play.

• Seek peace through prayer.

• Spread love where I am able.

• Believe that WE CAN DO THIS.