Stage Fright

About a month ago, I happened to be scrolling through the blog of one of my favorite authors, Shauna Niequist, and happened to notice that she was scheduled to speak at a neighboring Presbyterian Church.  Amazingly, her speaking engagement fell on a day that was empty on the calendar.  I quickly emailed the leadership of the Mothering Together event and asked if I could “infiltrate” for the day and sneak in to hear Shauna speak.

I have shared many of Shauna’s thoughts and quotes on the blog (here, here, here, and here, to refer back to a few…) and find that her books are classics for me.  During my last book purge, I sold or gave away about 80% of my “collection”, but Shauna’s books were MUST SAVES and kept a prominent space on the shelf.  In fact, I used some of my credit from selling the many books to purchase her newest, Bittersweet, for my mom for Mother’s Day.

In my packing frenzy last night and this morning, I managed to get both books in my bag, hoping to ask Shauna to sign them.  One for me, and one for my mom.  I also wrote her a little card too….I’m seriously such a geek-a-zoid fan.  Well, I started saying silly things to my friend Val (who came with me to the event) and felt my pulse racing as I waited to meet Shauna and have her sign the books.  And in the freak-out “I’M MEETING SOMEONE I ADMIRE AND AM SO INSPIRED BY” moment, I got confused on which book to have her sign.  Cold Tangerines, the one I’ve post-it noted, dog eared  and underlined and highlighted is addressed to my Mom and the new, crisp, clean copy of Bittersweet is addressed to me.

Classic Me.  Deer in the Headlights.  Anxiety Ridden.  No eloquent words when needed…..Gulp.

Needless to say, she was so gracious, even agreeing to take a picture with me.

She read three excerpts from her upcoming book, Bread and Wine, “a collection of essays about life around the table, and the sacred and surprising things that happen when we open our homes and open our lives and connect with one another over food we’ve made with love and with our hands”.  It won’t be out until the Spring of 2013, but the essays she shared today were so good!

There were many memorable moments today, but the centralizing message was based on the truth of Paul’s letter to the Romans, the reminder that Life is better TOGETHER.  That we are called to choose honesty and truth telling vs. comparison, competition and isolation.

Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep.

~Romans 12:15

One of the three excerpts she read was also recently shared on her blog (Safety Goggles) and today it brought tears to many eyes in the room.  Please take a moment to click on the link and read it.  It was a reminder that we must manage the complexity of Joy & Pain.  As Paul said….to rejoice and to weep with one another.  When we are experiencing times of joy, it is hard to know how to reach out to those in grief.  And yet we are called to this as friends.  Called to enter in, into tender, weak and fragile places, and walk alongside each other.

I realized how deeply grateful I am to have amazing circles of women in my life who provide these safety nets for me.  I don’t think it’s irreverent to say that female friends are a key survival tool for parenthood.  Obviously, your spouse is crucial; the most important partner in crime for the journey.  But my women friends?!?!  Well, it’s just different. Yesterday, I received an email from a friend I met in 2006–our friendship forged when put together in a dorm room for a retreat.  The first night was a night of silence and we had JUST met and were told to be quiet for 12 hours!  WHAT!?!?  We broke the rules many times that weekend and I believe that forged our friendship.  She wrote, “You are in the thick of it with parenting.  You are in the most physically demanding time when you have to account for every second and care for every physical need – wipe that butt, make that lunch, read that bedtime book. It is so exhausting!“  On Monday, I chatted with a friend of eighteen years, and was given the gift of twenty minutes of connection time.  Over the phone connection, yes, but an oasis for me, nonetheless.

The lesson in all of this knee knocking, arm-pit sweating stage fright?!?  To reach out.  To share the truth of our experience with someone else, whether it be joy and celebration or deep sadness and grief.  To push through the fear and cling to the reality of connection found in true vulnerability.  I messed up today….Shauna’s signatures are inked permanently, incorrectly in my books.  But what can you do but laugh, knowing that I pushed through my stage fright, entered in, messed up as I am, and was present. It was a reminder—may we all take Paul’s message to the Romans and delve into it head first…..to rejoice WITH those that rejoice.  To mourn WITH those that mourn.

“Everybody has a home team: It’s the people you call when you get a flat tire or when something terrible happens. It’s the people who, near or far, know everything that’s wrong with you and love you anyways. These are the ones who tell you their secrets, who get themselves a glass of water without asking when they’re at your house. These are the people who cry when you cry. These are your people, your middle-of-the-night, no-matter-what people.”
― Shauna Niequist, Bittersweet

Bold & Dangerous

Kelly Corrigan writes an incredible love letter to her daughters in the book “Lift” which I just finished recently.  “Lift” isn’t all rosy.  Corrigan recounts her friends’ bouts of infertility, and compares that heartbreak to her own with cancer.  She remembers her daughter’s hospitalization and her fear, summing it up by saying that the hospital stay “marked the beginning of how I came to know what a bold and dangerous thing parenthood is.  Risk was not an event we’d survived but the place where we now lived.”

Some days it just seems like the sheer fact of moving and being is an act of danger and boldness for our youngest.  Bruises and scabs cover his knees and shins, hinting at the escapades he’s gone through.

I happened upon this scene just last week.

I had left him unattended for 3 minutes and was greeted with destruction and mess upon my return.  These “small, fairly harmless incidents” are par for the course with raising toddlers, especially boys.

But man alive, parenthood is certainly dangerous.  Dangerous in the sense that parenthood mirrors back to you what your own fears, insecurities and hang ups are.  You can never prepare for the risks that are parenthood.  As Kelly eloquently stated, “Risk was not an event we’d survived but the place where we now lived.”

Many days I have to remind myself of this fact.  Not to fall into apathy, but more to have a dose of reality.  We  are not just meant to survive the moment.  We live for the long haul, long term, in a place of risk.  Parenthood is bold and dangerous and there are no guarantees.  My friend lost her sweet baby girl three months ago and her reflections this past week were so raw and real.  Her post was a moment of truth telling, that despite the Hope we hold, death and pain and parenthood is hard. That parenthood is bold and dangerous.

Today, as I’m home with my youngest, I am reminded of the bold and dangerous (and FOOLISH!) concept of running errands with an eighteen month old.  I’m sure my chiropractic adjustment was completely void and null after 2 hours of completing the to do lists.  Stroller in and out.  Child unbuckled, lugged out, strapped in and restrained.

Trying to hold onto the bold, dangerous and foolish moments, though….because something happened yesterday.  Matt created a video via Picasa’s face recognition capabilities.  This video pulled pictures of Alex from birth to today, almost at his 5 year mark.  And in 4 minutes, I saw 5 years quickly fade in and out.  Five years of bold and dangerous living.  It goes fast.

So, the balance continues.  On one side, Bold.  On the other side, Dangerous.  The scales tip between the two realities.  Neither are polar opposites, but rather chances to trust.  Opportunities to rely.  Instances to fail and mess up, but remain present.  To sit in the bold and dangerous place and be, not escape.

“If John Lennon was right that life is what happens when you’re making other plans, parenthood is what happens when everything is flipped over and spilling everywhere and you can’t find a towel or a sponge or your ‘inside’ voice.”
― Kelly Corrigan, Lift

p.s.  And then there’s THIS, my current read….Bringing Up Bébé : One American Mother Discovers the Wisdom of French Parenting by Pamela Druckerman.  Maybe it will be the last frontier on all wisdom needed to produce “astonishingly well behaved children”!

You. Are. Loved.

Today, I’m guest posting over at First Day Walking, my dear friend, Mihee’s blog.  She is doing a wonderful series on Motherhood Mantras and I had the gift of being asked to share.  

When walking down College Avenue in Oakland last month, we popped into the cutest store, Nathan & Co. It was one of those “DANGER! DANGER!” moments after crossing the threshold—seeing WAY too many things to tempt my meager resolve. This beautiful reminder, though, was free, and painted on the wall…You. Are. Loved.

Go here, to Mihee’s space, to read the rest. (and poke around and read as much as possible—-she’s an incredible writer & thinker!!!)

Expectations

We had the treat of attending an incredible night of music and speakers at the third annual Notes & Words event last night.  Each year this event brings together authors and musicians to benefit the amazing Children’s Hospital of Oakland, —this year’s show included CAKE, Michael Chabon, John Hodgman, Anne Lamott, Kelly Corrigan.  Kelly Corrigan is one of my favorites and if you haven’t seen this video yet, grab your Kleenex and hop to it.  So many wonderful pieces read and songs sung.  It was truly a perfect combination.

Michael Chabon introduced Anne Lamott and shared four quotes from the MANY one could have offered.  The one at the top, about expectations, hit me the hardest and got me thinking.  As Michael said, it’s one of those quotes that you have to let sit for a minute to really process and take in.

Expectations.  Yes…expectations and so so tricky.  Without expectations, I find that my students and my own children won’t perform up to the level I know they are capable of.  If we don’t push and encourage and prod and create visions, those we work with might settle for “less than” or mediocrity.  Sometimes “the middle place” is a good thing.  I pushed myself way too hard in high school, ending up with an ulcer, attempting to perfect my resume and transcript.  My parents, high school teachers themselves, often pushed me to lower my expectations.

Anne’s quote, though, “Expectations are resentments under construction”, rings true.  When we hold onto a hope for something, anything “out there” in the future, it can often lead us to despair, depression and yes, resentment when things don’t pan out as planned.  Entering into marriage eight years ago and into motherhood almost five years ago has given WAY too many opportunities to list of times when unmet expectations led to resentment.  It’s par for the course, I guess.

Expectations, like anything, have to be born in balance with reality.  This week, I decided to spring a little plan on my students.  We have the ***DREADED*** standardized STAR test coming up in a week.  I thought it would be fun for them to get a little encouragement as they enter into the process.  A reminder that their worth in wrapped up in so much more than a grade on the exam or their performance.  Yet balancing that truth with knowledge that they can do well.  They can push themselves.  And that they can push to do better than they dream possible.

So the STAR Buddy Project was born.  The kids set about writing their letters to their “yet unknown to them” buddies.  I enclosed a picture I took of them back in December, and we sent them off on Friday.  They sat and wrote and wrote and wrote on Friday.  Most wrote 1-2 pages.  This accomplishment felt miraculous.  I told them I was teary eyed over their focus and hard work.  One quipped, “MRS. GOUGH, are you going to CRY!?!?”   No doubt, yes, as any former student or summer staffer can attest to.  I’m a sappy crier.

Again, I attempted to set the expectations high for them.  And they truly rose to the occasion.  Now, the STAR buddies out there (many of which, are YOU guys!!) are receiving their letters and writing back.  I already have two in hand.  One of my friend’s freshman class of college and career readiness students is writing to my class.  Another friend who teaches kids locally has a surprise up her sleeve that’s coming as encouragement.  I can’t wait to start unleashing things, Oprah style.

I don’t want to set myself or my students up for resentment.  We are, on paper, an underperforming school.  We are in program improvement.  There is a lot of pressure to work hard and help the kids show what they can do.  We saw our kids’ multiplication automaticity scores go from 13% to 89% this year.  That took hard work.  Constant practice.  But they did it.

So I keep sitting on the fence on this issue.  Keeping the expectations realistic.  And not sinking into resentment.  These two of our own give a perfect training ground to test and try these theories of expectations.  The more and more I observe and watch them, though, I realize that my expectations are usually blown out of the water…..on both ends of the expectation scale.  They often severely disappoint and many times, surprise and amaze.

I often feel like we are called to be set designers.  To set the scene.  Create the backdrop.  Perfect the setting so that the actors in our midst can be free to shine and grow and take the stage.  And be waiting in the wings to offer grace when the performance doesn’t go as planned.

Memory Is An Extraordinary Thing

Almost a year and a half ago I started writing in this space, trying to find an outlet for processing the world I was inhabiting.  I shared here about why I chose the name These Stones for this place.  And as this week perfectly exemplifies, sometimes I use this blog as a space to share recipes.  Other times, daily antics of my children are the focus.  Some days I process my faith journey, my questions and thoughts about following God.

For me, though, I so easily forget.  And I want so desperately NOT to.  To remember.  As the quote shares so eloquently, much more clearly than I ever could, “God instructed His people on their journey to erect physical markers ‘along the way as aids to their memory.  The idea was that they were to remember His gracious provision and protection for them in the past, so that they might be encouraged to trust Him in the present.”  

So today, I’m sharing two incidents that happened yesterday.  I managed to see them and capture them on my camera.  I was actually looking for a way to “erect a physical marker”…an opportunity to keep these two moments as something more than a fleeting happening.

My children push my buttons REGULARLY, as I’m sure my neighbors can attest to.  I can’t even imagine what they think of our household as they hear my RAISED, TEACHER VOICE or Drew’s sobbing or Alex’s temper tantrums raging.  That aside, today, two little miracles happened.

First, Drew’s.  Matt’s Dad does some printwork.  (aka MODELING).  I like to give him a hard time about it.  Here’s one of the latest ads he was in.  Go, Lipitor!

When I was taking some photographs for him, “head shots”!, he brought his last page of pictures so I’d have an idea of what he needed.  Alex, my eldest, quickly snatched it up after our photoshoot for his own special papers collection.  Well today, Drew came across it.  Drew is only 18 months and can’t talk, per se, but it was CLEAR he knew who those photos were showcasing—-MACHO POP!  Check out this sequence and sorry, in advance, for the blur.

Did you catch that?  Those adoring looks of love for Grandpa?  The kissing of the photographs?  I mean, geez, Louise!, you seriously can’t script that.  And I will shout it from the rooftops again and again, WE ARE SO LUCKY TO HAVE FIVE PHENOMENAL GRANDPARENTS IN OUR KIDS’ LIVES.  SO  SO SO SO LUCKY.  I am so glad Drew “gets it” too.

And the next moment today, number two on “Memory List”?  This one’s Alex’s.  My dear friend, Julie, did something Pinterest worthy and amazing a month ago.  Alex’s preschool class was having a St. Patrick’s Day party and she made a rainbow fruit plate/concoction of amazingness.  I didn’t see it as I was teaching that day and not at drop off or pick up, but Alex has been going on and on about it for the last 4 weeks.  He took matters into his own hands and declared that we needed to recreate Julie’s rainbow platter for dinner.

Trying to curtail and contain Alex’s never-ending STORM of ideas is a full time job for me.  Last night, some dam broke and I just gave in and let him go for it.  It seemed the lesser of two evils.  I mean, how destructive can an almost five year old be with FRUIT and VEGETABLES!?!?  He was also quite convincing in that it was a perfect vegan-friendly meal for Matt and me too.  How thoughtful….especially with those dirt and sand covered hands we forgot to wash until we were 80% of the way into the project.  Yum.

Here’s what he came up with.  And you’ll see Drew’s delight over it all.  The blue food coloring in the cream cheese on the bagels….???? Weak, I know.  And a HUGE mess.  Oh, well.  You win some.  You lose some.

Of course the rainbow-filled sky would not be complete without helicopters, airplanes and birds….thus, markers were fetched and additions were made.

These two moments weren’t life-changing by any means.  But they both were, for me, reminders of the gift these two boys are.  Markers I can look back to, to remember when I’m pulling my hair out.  Lines drawn in the sand to say, “Don’t forget when….”  I could chalk it up to fruit, vegetables and a piece of paper with some photographs, but today, I’m clinging to these things, seeing them as the reminders they are of God’s extreme goodness in my life.  The ways in which God seeks to love me and show me himself in the world that surrounds me.

“What do these stones mean?

He did this so that all the people

of the earth might know that the

hand of the Lord is powerful and

so that you might always fear the Lord your God.”

Joshua 4:22b,24

Postscript:  Today, Micha Boyett Hohorst at mama::monk writes about Dishes and Litany and all that Beauty.  Go there and read her post.  SO eloquent and hits on the same notes I was talking about today.  And secondly, thank you so much for your generosity, love, support and encouragement after my words here yesterday.  So much love.  Thank you. 

Anxiety Confession

Each week, as Thursday morning draws near, I feel my heart beating faster. My breath coming shorter. My palms sweating. My mind racing. I had two dear summer staffers at Westminster Woods who dealt with these same symptoms, in a much stronger and more forceful way too. I remember a few instances of sitting with them, holding their hands. Talking softly. Offering encouragement. Stroking the hair off their foreheads. Giving them chips of ice. Talking them through taking one breath at a time. Slowly.

In the moment, I felt strength coming from a place other than inside of myself to help others. I might have my OWN anxiety attack afterwards when my body caught up with the scenario I just walked through with someone else. Usually, though, in the moment, I was fairly centered and calm.

Unless it’s ME that’s feeling these emotions.

And my confession is that my current teaching placement leaves me in this state of anxiety each and every week. Usually once I’m there, in the moment, I’m fine. My breath slows. I move 100 miles an hour, teaching, grading, managing, lining up, shh-ing, encouraging and working alongside the kids. But there are many moments where I feel so very inadequate. Times when I wonder, as I often do as a parent, who thought I’d be enough?….that I’d be capable to do this job? Many days I wonder what took over my thoughts, just 4 years ago, when I thought teaching was “my thing”. That I had slogged through the especially challenging first three years, and now, had been given the title of “master teacher” while working with student teachers. I sat on committees. I worked as a BTSA mentor. I was able to expand on and engage students with higher level thinking discussions and share such special moments.

Now, I feel like each day is a practice in hanging on for dear life. A moment for re-framing everything I held dear, each truth that previously felt “tried and unchanging” seems to be thrown out the window. I was optimistic just months ago and so dearly love the 28 students that enter that sacred space each day. They seek to encourage me with misspelled notes and cards regularly.

They hug me tightly at the beginning and end of each day. But there are a few that are so very tough. I feel deep fear for their future. I have moments of thinking I can help or save them. I want to encourage them, rather than expect the worst. I seek to wear my fancy “princess” shoes, as Alex calls them, hoping their shiny goodness will make the harder days easier. And yet, each day is often a hard slog.

Vocation is a tough nut to crack. I have written about it often in this space over the last 18 months. Some days I was longing for vocational fulfillment. Other days I was wondering what vocational fulfillment might look like for me. Sometimes I feel guilt over not being home with the boys full time. Conversely, there are days where their antics and crazy shenanigans lead me to want FULL TIME, in fact OVERTIME employment, figuring it might be the least draining option!

Deep down, the grass will always be greener somewhere else. Or maybe not greener, but at least a different shade. Often a more desirable shade of green. On the hardest of days, where the classroom feels like a battlefield, I often feel, palpably, the lifting up of my needs and emptiness by friends and family. I feel the prayers. I feel the support. I feel the chocolate offered as balm. Even typing this now, I have tears in my eyes. Not tears of fear or despair, but of memory. I could post email after email. Facebook post after post. Trail mix and chocolate offered. Phone calls where the person on the other end of the line only rang me up to listen and give a space for venting. Vocation, and for me currently, teaching, can be a moment by moment opportunity to be humbled. You can’t hide. When things are hard, there are usually 30 others in the room, witnessing each and every move you make.

What keeps nagging at me, tugging at my heart, though, is the knowledge that many of my students don’t have that lifting up crew of cheerleaders to go home to. I find myself brought to tears as snippets of their stories come out in conversations or things they write. When I think of the gift of comforting summer staffers going through anxious, chest gripping fear or overwhelming expectations, or the times I’ve just held my own crying boys as bad dreams wrack their sleep, I realize many of my students don’t have that support.

I know I can’t save them from that hole. I know that my worth isn’t bound up in my vocation. I know that I will make it to the end of the school year, even when some days, that seems impossible.

But, knowing these things doesn’t take away my human responses. My anxious thoughts. My sadness over the disrespect many students display to each other and to teachers. My fear of the “not knowing” how things will unfold each day.

So I offer the unresolved thoughts here today. I offer my desire to control it all. I give up my attempt to display a slick veneer. And instead speak with honesty. This specific teaching placement is hard. I am anxious. I need support. I often cope by pushing the realities out of my mind and burying myself in Pinterest.

And more importantly, I want to offer a place for you to share those places of anxiety and fear. Are we not often stronger when we admit our weaknesses and angst?

My friend Gail posted this quote today on Facebook. It’s a quote from Henri Nouwen and maybe it speaks to you too, especially in the midst of feeling anxious and inadequate….

“Patience is not waiting passively until someone else does something. Patience asks us to live the moment to the fullest, to be completely present to the moment, to taste the here and now, to be where we are. When we are impatient, we try to get away from where we are. We behave as if the real thing will happen tomorrow, later, and somewhere else. Let’s be patient and trust that the treasure we look for is hidden in the ground on which we stand.”

– Henri J.M. Nouwen

And just because Nouwen is so amazing and wonderful and thought-provoking….here’s three more for you.

Hanalei Bay in a Bowl

Deep down, I am craving a little Hawaii time in a bad way.  Sand.  Fruity drinks.  Waves crashing.  Tropical breezes.  Ah, yes.  Glory Hallelujah.

So this morning, I set out to create a little Hawaii for breakfast.  As in “Hanalei Bay Oatmeal”.  Yes, I’m crazy.  It didn’t quite take me to the beaches of Kauai, but it was still yummy, especially with some extra strong coffee.

Here’s the recipe if you want to try your own tropical oatmeal.

Hanalei Bay Oatmeal

• 2 cups of water
• 1 cup of gluten free oatmeal
• 1/2  cup of coconut milk (we used the light coconut milk from Trader Joes)
• 1 cup frozen mango (diced)
• 1 cup frozen pineapple (diced)
• 2 bananas, sliced
• dash of cinnamon
• 1/2 t vanilla (I highly recommend Madagascar Bourbon Vanilla)
• 2 T flax seeds
• (optional:  shredded, unsweeted coconut and walnuts)

Directions:

Put water in a pot on the stove.  Bring water to a boil.  Add remaining ingredients and let simmer on medium for 8 minutes (ish).  Serve with shredded coconut and walnut pieces.  It’s extra yummy to drizzle a little of the leftover canned coconut milk or Coconut Milk creamer on top.

and yes, this was happening in the adjoining room while the oatmeal preparation was happening….

where are those tropical beaches?!?