It’s Not Time For Good-Bye, No Matter How Much It Hurts

Many of you reading this likely know what a crazy year 2014 has been for me, particularly the last few months.  Let’s tally just a few of the hits, shall we?

• We lost my grandfather’s cousin, who was like an aunt to my mother and almost like another grandmother for me.
• We lost my husband’s grandmother.
• I started a new job, which while in itself has been a wonderful experience, it was so difficult to say good-bye to my former coworkers and not to be able to work hand-in-hand every day with the amazing people at my (now former) client.
• I caught the flu early in the season, in October.
• I am now fighting another flu strain, because of course I am.
• I unexpectedly wasn’t able to spend Thanksgiving – the holiday closest to my heart – with my kids.
• Traveling to my in-laws’ for Christmas was a true, longer-than-24-hour trains, planes and automobiles experience.
• My younger sister passed away just before Thanksgiving.

And, of course, we all – in this country and in many cases throughout the world – have had to experience and try to get our heads around the events and tragedies of this past year: too many police-related tragedies and too much unrest to enumerate, Snowmageddon, three tragic and almost surreal airplane disasters, unrest with North Korea and Russia, the Ebola outbreak, and the loss of several beloved icons who had a positive impact on our world, just to name a few. It’s been a rough year all around.

Several people have made the comment that I must be ready to say good-bye and good riddance to 2014. But you know what? I’m not. 

Yes, 2014 was rough, and I wouldn’t dream of hoping that 2015 will mirror this past year.

Still, we have a choice in what we do with the difficult events that life throws our way. We can hate the moments that hurt us, or we can learn from them. We can regret them, or we can bear in mind that even as we go through the worst experience, the fact of the matter is that we are here to experience it, and that alone is something to be grateful for.

When my kids were little, my husband asked if we could teach them to say a prayer before bedtime. I agreed, but with the request back that I could write the prayer, since I’m not religious. Here is what our kids learned and memorized and will say at bedtime (when they remember to):

Dear God,

Thank you for today, and thank you for tomorrow.

Thank you for our joy and even for our sorrow.

Thank you for what’s been and all there is to be.

And mostly, God, I thank you for always loving me.

That “thank you… even for our sorrow” bit was very important for me. We forget to be grateful for our moments of challenge and sadness. (Apparently I’m intended to be incredibly grateful for the year 2014!) But those trying and difficult moments mold us and speak to our hearts and help us realize even more keenly how fortunate we are in our moments of joy or even those times of simple peace and calm.

Here’s the thing: I am grateful for 2014. While I hope 2015 will be different and happier and more steady year, sort of a more committed-to-happy type of year, I refuse to just say good-bye to 2014. No, I’m not willing to do that. Instead, I’ll just say “thank you.”

Happy New Year, friends. Welcome to 2015.

Go Play In The Dirt

In order to keep things as normal as possible – both for the tinies and for myself – during my travel days away from home, I try to mirror a couple of our evening routines when I speak with them each night on the phone. One of these routines involves asking each of my children this question: “What was your favorite thing that happened today?”

My husband and I have asked the kids this question almost every night since they were old enough to speak. In the early days, answers included “playing outside” or “lunch” or “going potty on the potty.” As they’ve gotten older and using the bathroom has become more commonplace in their lives, their answers have become more nuanced and varied, such as “getting to spend time with my new friends” or “learning about kinetic energy” (in Kindergarten… what???) or “when you came to have lunch with me, Mommy” (everybody say awwww).

The other night, I asked my Kindergartner this question, and after about twenty ums, she suddenly said, “I know! I had to bring a bag of dirt to school, from our yard. And then in science class, I got to play with it!”

I replied, “What did you learn about the dirt?” to which she cheerily responded, “I don’t remember.”

“So,” I said, “you’re just happy you got to play with dirt. Yes?”

With very clear glee, she emphatically replied, “Yes!”

Her excitement wasn’t all that surprising. My daughter has loved to play in the dirt since the first time she was placed on the ground. She loves to run her fingers through the soil. She is physically incapable of passing a patch of sand or dirt on the ground without bending down to let her fingertips at least graze it, but usually she prefers to at least pick up a handful, to feel the grains against her palm. It’s her passion. It calls to her and brings her joy. She can spend hours – literally hours – sitting on the ground, moving her hands through the earth.

Check out those fabulously dirty fingernails.

We each have our own version of playing in the dirt. Each of us has that one passion, that thing we do that brings us pure, unspoiled happiness and that lets us feel deeply connected to a special part of our souls. For some of us it’s writing stories and poems. For others, it’s creating artwork or getting out into nature. For yet others of us, it’s knitting or hunting or gardening or surfing. It might be bird watching, or it might be rebuilding automobiles.

In rare instances, people make a living with their version of playing in the dirt. But usually these are the things we do away from work, away from the normal day-to-day, when we need to get back in touch with that part of us that hasn’t been beaten down or abbreviated by life, that part of our hearts that isn’t burdened by the need to be productive or responsible. We do these things just… because. Because not doing them makes us feel just that little bit less alive.

If you’re reading this, my wish for you is that you never forget to play in the dirt. I hope you never let the daily grind or the judgment of others or the odd diversions of the world prevent you from getting those hands dirty and soaking up every ounce of pure happiness.

As for me, I realized – while speaking with my little girl the other night – that for a while now I’ve allowed myself to become distracted by things that seemed more important at the time but that, on retrospect, are rather ephemeral. I forgot to play in the dirt for several months. Shame shame. But I’m back. And I’m re-energized. So look out, world… it’s time to play.

Smile, Though Your Heart is Aching…

You know how it feels to have heartache. To be sad or grumpy. To be frustrated or irritated or blah. We can’t be happy all the time. And when we’re not happy, being around other people can feel anything from mildly annoying to flat out aggravating. If your heart hurts or your ire is up or you’re under pressure, you might want to just fold into yourself and become invisible, or you may feel like snapping at the people around you, or you might just feel generally impatient with the world. Let’s face it, sometimes when you’re pissy or hurting, you just want to smack people who are simply in your presence much less present and happy simultaneously.

When that moment happens, learn from the TSA:  make someone smile.

Yes, you read that right. Learn from the TSA.

And yes, I mean that TSA. The airport security people who check your stuff and your body for weapons and other nefarious doodads, such as super-scary containers of liquid that are larger than 3 ounces.

I want a shoulder tag for my shirts that reads "MOM"... image credit to lincaustin.com

Today, as I headed home from my monthly work trip, I watched the TSA agents in amazement. When I passed by the first agent, he gave me a winning smile, a smile he’d been sharing with every single traveler, and said, “Hello there, beautiful!” The next agent – the man checking IDs – kindly teased me about my ID photo. Then another agent walked by, smiled broadly and yelled, “Hey there, youngster!”

This was my experience, and I could see that these fantastic men and women (I'm looking at you, Love Field TSA team) were treating every passenger with this same kind, fun, funny attentiveness. And thanks to them, a large number of the weary, tense, exhausted travelers passing through the security lines ended up smiling and laughing by the time they reached the other side of the security gauntlet.

You see, sometimes making someone else smile is the best salve for a tense soul or hurting heart. Sometimes when frustration or sadness feels like it’s about to overwhelm you, the simple act of giving someone else even a little joy can be amazingly rewarding.

These TSA agents today had no way of knowing their actual impact on any of us, either. For some of us, they might have simply added a glimmer of happiness to an okay afternoon. For others of us, they may have lifted hurting spirits and reminded us to look for good even in the roughest day. And for others of us yet, they perhaps reminded us to pass along smiles to others in our path.

I have several friends right now who are going through rough moments. Some are dealing with significant work struggles that are causing them to ponder what they should do next. Others are managing through illnesses and child rearing challenges. And at least a handful are trying to start the painful process of mending their broken hearts. To each of these friends, I wish them smiles and hope. If I don’t have the opportunity, I hope someone makes them laugh or feel special today. I hope someone today is their personal TSA agent (how often do you hear that said?).

More than that, I hope that each one of these friends of mine brings a smile to someone else today. Because if they do, they will be repaid tenfold with happiness. Or chocolate. But more likely happiness. And with happiness comes healing.  So... smile.