The words are scattered everywhere. I look at them, twisting and turning them, coaxing them to do something. They are reluctant. I try to pull them together but nothing fits. I’m famished. Craving something real. Something that I can get entwined in with no escape. My heart races. That dry fear sits in the back of my throat with an ache. What if this is all there is? What if I’m done with this? The panic is undeniable. I’m not prepared to let this go.

Several years ago, I stumbled across the poem “On This Day”. It struck me, glued me to my spot as I read it and then read it again.  I think about these words from time to time and every once in a while they are so strongly planted in my mind that I feel that I need to share them.  Perhaps someone else is in need of their wisdom.  Or maybe it is just me that needs to pay closer attention to their message.  Today is one of those days.  In particular I’m struck with the words “examine your demands on others”.

It is very easy to sit back and judge what people have done or haven’t done, where they have let you down, where they didn’t meet your expectations or do what you had hoped or what you thought they should do.  We are so hard on each other. We really are. When in reality, when I stop and think about it, when I take a breath and consider it all, what I realize  is that we are all just doing the best we can. Examine your demands. Speak your love.  And speak it again.

On This Day

Mend a quarrel. Search out a forgotten friend. Dismiss suspicion and replace it with trust. Write a love letter. Share some treasure. Give a soft answer. Encourage youth. Manifest your loyalty in a word or deed.

Keep a promise. Find the time. Forego a grudge. Forgive an enemy. Listen. Apologize if you were wrong. Try to understand. Flout envy. Examine your demands on others. Think first of someone else. Appreciate, be kind, be gentle. Laugh a little more.

Deserve confidence. Take up arms against malice. Decry complacency. Express your gratitude. Worship your God. Gladden the heart of a child. Take pleasure in the beauty and wonder of the earth. Speak your love. Speak it again. Speak it still again. Speak it still once again.

– Author Unknown

I have a 7^th grader. We went to dinner recently, just the two of us. Yes, he is still ok with being seen with me in public. As we sat there talking I loved the ease of our conversation. We flitted from subject to subject. I would have liked to have allowed it continue, this aimless wandering, but I’m a mom and there are things that I need to understand, things I need to know. So, we got to the topic of middle school. Entering 7^th grade, he is squarely in the middle of the middle and I wanted to know how that felt, what it meant. Middle school is that time when the sorting starts, when kids start to label and organize each other, placing them where they think they should be with criteria that takes on a meaning and life of its own.

This is what I learn….. The jocks are the most popular, but even at the jock table, there seems to be a ranking. Just by mere proximity the girls that sit near the jock table are popular, but the criteria for their popularity is a bit fuzzy – they seem to be a mix of athletes, smart girls and I suppose the pretty ones. He doesn’t place much value on how they look.  He goes on to explain the make-up of the different categories, how the kids have been sorted, ranked and classified. Without even asking he tells me, “I’m kind of second class popular.” He seems to not be bothered by his label, comfortable with his friends and their place in the middle.

In the coming days, I found myself reflecting on that conversation, looking back at that time in my life. I was second class popular. I was sorted and ranked and classified. I am not even sure how it happened, but it did. The labels from those years hadn’t changed much they were similar to the tags my son was putting on these kids. Why is it this way? Why does this kind of shallow view of who these kids are still exist? And then it occurred to me. WE do this. WE perpetuate this. As parents, we are labeling and sorting and placing value on these very things.

I listen to our conversations which are monopolized by our children’s lives. (By the way, when did we stop talking about our own lives and dreams?- Another blog for another day) What team are they on, what position do they play, how much play time do they get (it is not enough to just be on the team), are they in advanced classes, are they an honor student, what is their GPA? I watch as we label and sort and place value. We rate, rank, measure. I see how those of us who have children that don’t fit squarely into one of these categories wince a bit at the questions. We fumble with our excuses, trying to explain the value that our kids have, the worth of what they are doing. It is a clumsy awkward exchange. I see the look of superiority cross the faces of the parents whose kids “fit” who proudly wear one or more of these labels. It makes my stomach turn. Our markers are so limited in their scope, so narrow and shallow. “Popular”, “Athlete”, “Scholar”. This is what we talk about – this is where we place our children.

Wouldn’t it be great if we asked each other – What makes your child happy? What brings your child joy? What music makes them dance around the house? What are they dreaming about? What book can’t they put down? Who do they look up to? What have they created? What are they doing do be kind, brave, true, a good friend, bring value, change the world?

Our children are so much more than these labels. They are so full of wonder and goodness and hope. Can’t we talk about that? They are amazing little wonders that put their mark on the world each and every day. Marks that are more meaningful than the winning touch down or their GPA.

I see this in your children. They are good, empathetic, funny, inventors, artists, awesome, good friends, leaders, dancers, caring, kind, optimists, generous, honest, creators, dreamers, story tellers, singers, entrepreneurs, silly, real, fun, brave, adventurous, good.

Let’s change our labels.

The pieces were laid out before her. They had a place. Each of them. She stood back and looked. Anyone else saw wholeness, continuity. They always did. For her, it was clear. Right there. Right there. She moved the pieces. Willing them to take incapable forms. Subtly moving them around and around. They were unaware of how many times they failed her. This piece was as inimitable as any of the others. There was no patching over, or filling in, there was no supplanting or overcoming. It was simply to be missing.

“It was missing a piece and it wasn’t happy.  So, it set off in search of it’s missing piece. – Shel Silverstein, The Missing Piece

Last week after posting “This one is for you”, I set out to share some words. One by one I relieved myself of the tiny afterglows that get their life from you. Instant messages, posts to walls, texts, emails. I poured it all out.  My Facebook percolated all day long with people liking the things I said to others, adding their own comments or reinforcing mine. It went on and on all day and into the next and still I am not done. I shouldn’t ever be done. This should go on forever. This is how it should be all the time.   People were humbled, inspired, touched, moved, motivated, honored….and I was filled up, overflowing. All from a few simple words.  It was good. It should always be this good.

I went for a run yesterday morning. I was so  full of the words that I had shared and the ones that still needed to be said.  I felt light and good. I ran to the lake as I often do. For the first time ever,  I stopped and sat down to admire its calmness (thank you Allison for the inspiration).  I settled in for a moment of quiet. A light hum filled my ear. I didn’t need to look. I knew what was there. On a flower beside me sat a dragonfly. Red and startlingly beautiful it held my stare. I returned my eyes to the stillness of the lake and quietly whispered.  “I see you.  I do. I hear what you are meant to say. ”  We shared a few more heart beats and I got up to continue my run looking up to see that the sky had filled with dragonflies. “I hear you.”

In the past four months, I have attended the memorial services for three different women. All my age. All with lives that should have gone on forever so that each could continue to bring their goodness to this world. Amazingly incredible women.

In each case, as I sat and listened to the words that were said about these women, I longed to know them or know them longer, to be them, to have some of them in me. Family members, friends, one after another, poured out their stories of these three. It seemed that they would have gone on forever and I would have gladly soaked in each word. In each of these moments I found myself wondering the same wonders… I wonder if the people around me know the impact they have had on my life. I wonder if they know the things I admire about them. I wonder if they know how they inspire me. I wonder if they know what I think and feel when I see their post, receive a text, look at a picture on Instagram, spend time with them.…. I experience a million different feelings and reactions a day. Tiny little afterglows. They are fleeting at times, but they have an impact, a purpose  They  cause me to laugh, pause, think, breath, smile, slow down, speed up, contemplate. They inspire, motivate, influence…. On and on it goes and yet I don’t tell you enough what you do for my life. I need to start and start I will. Today.