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Grace

Character, Courage, Empathy, Family, Friendship, Grace, Hope, Lessons, Love, Uncategorized

Growing Bigger Souled

Life is made up of little moments, pieced together to create our whole journey.  Slots of time filled with joy, sadness, and all the emotions in between.  The hope is at the completion of our pilgrimage, there will be a balance of the light and dark, with more gladness than sorrow.

Years ago, we took a family trip to Cabo San Lucas with the boys, they were around seven and ten years old.  We indulged in all the ridiculously expensive, touristy experiences; massages, swimming with the dolphins, parasailing, shopping, deep sea fishing, beach days, etc.  One night we treated ourselves to a big family dinner at a fun restaurant – right on the beach in Cabo, where the tables are literally set up on the sand.  As we were laughing breezily and stuffing our faces, a few locals on the beach quietly attempted to get our attention and sell us their goods.

One young boy and his sister looked to be about the same age as our boys.  He came up holding a bundle of colorful bracelets, offering to personalize them with names woven into them.  Looking at him, I wondered how it was that my boys ended up as the ones on vacation and he was a local, peddling homemade jewelry.  It made me sad, sometimes I just don’t understand this life.  I performed the cheesy tourist role – acting as if I couldn’t decide which beauty to choose, so I mentally counted the kiddos in our neighborhood and told him that was how many bracelets I needed.  I took him up on his offer to weave Mason and McCray’s names into their bracelets.  While he and his older sister sat in the sand to craft our jewelry, McCray couldn’t keep from watching them.  At one point, he looked up at me with eyes full of sencerity and said, “Mom, even if his jewelry wasn’t as beautiful as it is, would you still buy it?”

I replied yes.  He nodded, looked back at the boy and quietly said, “I would to.”

I will never forget the look on his face that night.  His little mind recognizing that they weren’t that different and his little heart not understanding the unfairness of the situation.  They were the same age, yet a country apart in their life experiences.  McCray has always been my sensitive thinker who seems to feel things deeper than most.  The boy selling jewelry could have been as happy as a clam with his life, but that encounter was used for a gentle teaching moment in my son’s journey. That evening, with our feet in the sand and our bellies full, he learned what compassion and empathy feel like.

When empathy is present, apathy cannot exist.”  Jessica Honegger

We are not all that different.  Don’t we all have the same core needs?  What if we could just lean in to those we don’t understand, our neighbors who are experiencing life different from us?  What if we could stop filling our lives with the perfect moments, situations, etc – and leave some margin to lean in and meet some of the needs that are right in front of us?  Empathy can fill in a lot of gaps.  Sister Joan Chittister tells us that “We are either growing or collapsing at every moment.  We are becoming bigger souled or smaller souled at every moment.”  Every single minute – not one wasted.  She believes that the purpose of a human experience is to grow into God.  To go beyond religion and become a prayer, by becoming a filter that sees our Creator in everything.

B-e-a-utiful.  Oh, to live a kind of life where we see the Divine in everything. To grow bigger souled in each moment.  We will slip occasionally, as we are human.  Yet, we have an opportunity in every moment to grow, to lean in, to work at understanding and loving those who we deem different than us.  We are not as different as it sometimes feels. Jesus was the greatest teacher of this, as he was always expanding his table to accommodate more hearts.  We all have the same underground river running beneath our feet, the water of grace.  Reach down and splash some on your neighbor.

A sweet memory in Cabo with my M&M boys

 

 

 

Authenticity, Courage, Courage, Family, Grace, Lessons, Parenting

Hearing…with our own ears

God always meant for you to hear Him with your personality.

It took me a long time to grasp that thought. I used to think that in order to be spiritually mature, I needed to be more serious.  To be pleasing to my Creator, I was going to have to push down this ridiculous sense of humor, straighten my act up, and have the funny-bone of sarcasm surgically removed from my head.

When I became a mom at the age of 21, no one was more shocked than myself. I was making pennies as a legal assistant in Dallas.  On a lunch break, I went to the doctor to see about the stabbing pain in my low abdomen.  After listening to all my symptoms for about thirty minutes, we went in for an exam.  Then came the ultrasound.  The doctor pointed to a black dot on the screen and said, “Do you see this spot?”  I raised up on my elbows, squinted and gasp, “Is it a tumor?!” He unsuccessfully hid a smile and replied, “No, it’s a baby.”  (Turns out it’s painful for your uterus to stretch…who knew?)

I don’t remember driving home. I just ended up there, completely forgetting about the last half of my work day.  I grabbed a white dress, and we planned a wedding.   A few months later in my pregnancy, I went to change my last name at the doctor’s office. The nurse smiled and said, “Most first pregnancies only take about six months instead of the normal nine.”  Please. I see what you did there, and I’m pretty sure we didn’t fool anyone.

As shocked as I was to arrive early into Motherhood, I adored it.  I jumped in with both feet.  I read the books, followed the rules, and even ironed that baby boy’s onesies, no lie.  I adored my new roles.  When I wasn’t ironing baby clothes, I tried to find my footing on exactly who I was and where I needed to be.  I didn’t fully know, as I went from teenager to a mom in one hot second. This precious baby needed a godly mother that was stoic and treated life serious.  And I was the gal who loved God and found humor in most everything.

The turtleneck phase….through many seasons.

The summer after he was born, I displayed modesty by owning every color of sleeveless, mock-turtleneck shirts.  Seriously.  There is only ONE picture in that time frame that I am not wearing a turtleneck.  How I didn’t get tackled and thrown on a make over show is beyond me.  I’m still disappointed in my friends. Friends don’t let friends wear turtlenecks in the heat of a Texas summer.  The winter came and brought sleeves to my turtlenecks.  I was trying to hide my body, because a big chest didn’t seem like it would be godly.  Right? Even though I had zero input on how my body was naturally shaped.

Mason, with a look of shock….wondering why my neck is showing.

I started attending church again. When a bible study was offered, I signed up.  At one point, I was in three different bible studies at the same time. I was ironing and studying so much that I didn’t leave time to apply.  There wasn’t fruit being produced because I wasn’t watering the tree that I was, instead I was planting faux trees with leaves of wax.  I believed this baby boy deserved for his Momma to be a better tree.

Straight and narrow.  Because I snuck into this role the backway. I didn’t follow the correct steps, so by gosh, I wasn’t going to mess up now that I’m here.  At my core, I believed that I wasn’t enough.  I believed that I needed to push down everything that I was, in order to be what others expected.  Push myself down and perform.

As you can imagine, this only works for so long before the cracks start to show. At one point in Mason’s elementary years, he went through a sassy stage with a really bad attitude.  I was exasperated with this spicy child.  A friend pulled down a message from heaven and gently told me that perhaps I was chosen to be Mason’s mom because I could handle it.  Not the representative that I was performing as, but me.  My authentic self was given the specific skills and tools to navigate and nurture this child. I was only fooling myself, my first born had caught on to me.

There are few things more painful than living a life that is not in alignment with who you are.

What I have found throughout the 17.9 years of raising that baby and his brothers is that our Creator never meant for me to hear him outside of who I am.  He uses our own language to speak to us.  And thankfully, God is into simplicity.  I think it must grieve Him to watch us contort into something different than He constructed.  We were made in an image to fulfill a specific destiny on this earth.  Be you, because you are more than enough my friend.

When the boys were little, we had a birthday tradition of me tucking them in bed and telling them the story of the day they were born.  They loved hearing it, year after year.  McCray liked hearing how alert he was, his big blue eyes wide open, scanning my face.  They liked being reminded of who they are, where it all began.  The song lyrics to “Remind me who I am”, makes me feel like I’ve climbed into the lap of the One who designed me, listening to the story of the day I was pieced together.  Asking Him to tell it, again and again.

“When I lose my way, and I forget my name, Remind me who I am.

In the mirror all I see, is who I don’t wanna be, Remind me who I am.

In the loneliest places, when I can’t remember what grace is.

Tell me, once again, who I am to you, who I am to you.

Tell me, lest I forget, who I am to you, that I belong to you.”

Ah grace.  Grace covers like a salve when we realize we need to course correct and get back to the original.

You are enough.  You were created with a specific purpose.  You were knit together with the most brilliant and beautiful colors. The formula mixed and poured into you was measured with careful precision. You’ve been planted, and watered with love and light.  Who you are is so, so lovable.  Sister, cut off the turtleneck, throw off the chains that are keeping you from being the authentic version.  You are an original, a custom-made one and only.

Climb up in that lap to be reminded how your ears were perfectly and wonderfully made to hear Him, exactly where you are.

 

*The whole thought of this blog post came from Christa Black Gifford, at some point while reading her amazing book, “Heart made Whole”.  I cannot take credit for getting there without her words of encouragement.