Letting go (#31 days to Sanctuary day 5)

I've always had this vision in my head of the mother I would be.  Included in this dream was the lovely family portraits we would take to document all of our bonding family traditions.  From the time Brady was a baby, I was adamant that we would take a family trip to the pumpkin patch every October.  That's just what good families do in my little dream world.  So we would bundle him up for the trip, drive out to the farm, and wrestle him on to the hayride.  We would make encouraging comments like "Look at all the pumpkins!  Isn't this fun?"  The only response we would get would be a grumpy faced little boy not at all interested in the pumpkins.  Once Maryn entered the picture, it was double the "fun" (and struggle).  We were now  carrying and crying baby as we chased a toddler who was running and tripping through the rows of pumpkins.  At the end of the trip, when we were tired, dirty, and grumpy, I would convince some unsuspecting stranger to take a picture for us to remember the moment.  For every one that came out like this,

There would be ten more that showed a more truthful reality (note my fake smile, Maryn not paying attention, and Brady being grumpy):

At some point I began compromising and gave up on the big family picture for individual shots of the kids:

They might start out cute, but there was always a point when it would start to break down:

 

Real life is rarely an Instagram shot, all lovely and filtered.  It's gritty and moody and often surprisingly beautiful if we are willing to give up our expectations of how it "should" be.

I spent seven years forcing my family into a tradition that no one seemed to enjoy (even me).  The image in my head of my little pumpkins in the fields doesn't match reality and I had to let it go.  A day of family fighting for the shot at one decent picture to document a false reality was no longer worth it.

 Sometimes sanctuary is found in freeing ourselves from expectations that have instead become unreasonable burdens.  Today, instead of the pumpkin patch, we went to a country store that has our favorite ice cream.  Even better, they also sell pumpkins.  Our kids were much happier selecting two little pumpkins, eating ice cream, and then monkeying around in a tree outside than they ever were on a hayride search for the great pumpkin.  And what do you know, I even got a cute picture in the deal.

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Finding calm in chaos (#31 days to Sanctuary day 4)

In my most overwhelmed moments, I dream about my perfect day.  While I would like to imagine faraway locales with a tropical atmosphere (and do look forward to our cruise vacation coming up in December), I've learned that this doesn't suit me in the day-to-day reality.  I get overwhelmed by all the planning, packing, and the pain of traveling.  There are times I imagine that I would like to be a speaker at conferences, but all it takes is leading a local workshop to have me sighing with relief as I take off my shoes in my own familiar and comfy house.

When I reflect on where and how I find peace, it's really about the simple comforts.  If I had my choice, I would wake up around 7am, but not get out of bed until 8am (my lovely, well-behaved, and QUIET children coming in to kiss me goodbye before leaving for school.  This is a dream, after all).  I would spend a leisurely hour getting ready and catching up on Facebook and favorite blogs.  I might fit in a trip to the library before strolling in to work at 10am.  The morning would be filled with conversation and connecting with students and colleagues, and planning for events.  Lunch would be with friends, followed by a walk in solitude.  The afternoon would include necessary meetings, creative projects, and events.  I would be at home in time for dinner (but perhaps a later, more civilized form of family dinner with us sharing stories from our day instead of fighting or pleading with them to eat).  I would help with homework (which would not be frustrating, but full of insights and true learning) and then there would be lots of reading time cuddled up together on the bed.  After they put themselves into bed (with lots of love and kisses from us), there would be ice cream and catching up for John and me (talking with each other and finally making it through those 55 remaining recorded episodes  of "Breaking Bad").  Then there would be plenty of time for my own reading and writing before bed.  I would get enough peaceful, dreamless sleep with no one crying out in the night.  Weekends would be more of the same calm existence, with added time for us together as a family, as a couple, and as individuals; time for creative play, exercise, conversation, and rest.

It's simple for sure, but sometimes seems so far away in our chaotic existence.  We work not to overschedule our kids, and yet time always seems fleeting and we are always rushing to get something (dinner, homework, chores, baths) completed, while other things ( fun, dreaming, writing) remain undone.  It's enough to just get through the monotony of the present and hard to see beyond it.  We have conversations where we imagine that "some day" we'll have time to do more, but in the here and now, we learn to trudge along and find joy where we can.

That is how I find sanctuary these days, finding moments of rest and peace within the chaos of life that does not stop.  I know the start of the semester is always a crazy time, and I went through much of September without a day off.  But I maintained sanity with the help of my husband who gave me time away, a dinner here, a Saturday there, just to soak up the quiet.  As an introvert, I need those times to recharge.  This morning, I did go in to work later (after working yesterday evening), and I also stopped by the library.  I had a walk with a friend, and said "no" to a commitment so that I could have time to write and catch up.  Tonight, John and I will have a much overdue date night.  I will have to work some this weekend, but I will be able to be present in a more positive way after carving time out to care for myself.

This is my advice, learned the hard way, that I share so often with my students: you must take care of yourself so that you will be equipped to handle the work before you and serve others.  There a reason why you're instructed on airplanes in emergencies to put on your own oxygen mask first before helping out other passengers.  You are no help to others if you run out of air first.

As you care for your spirit, may times of sanctuary fill you with all you need to keep moving through the busyness and find your life full and yet not exhausting.

Stop the glorification of busy (#31 days to Sanctuary day 3)

"How are you?" we ask.  "Oh, okay, just BUSY," they answer.  We nod in affirmation and agreement, shake our heads to demonstrate our level of over-commitment, and continue on our hectic way.  "Busy" has become a default answer, a status symbol reminding ourselves and others that we are important.  But it comes at a cost.  We lose the ability to make genuine connections in our rush past people.  Our health is impacted when we don't make the time to care for ourselves.  Our frantic pace continues with no end in sight.

The verse repeats through my cluttered mind, "What would it profit a person to gain the whole world but lose her soul?"

I taught a short term class entitled "Spirituality For Busy People" and was surprised when the class filled to capacity and had a waiting list.  There is a hunger for spirituality, even as we're perplexed as to how to fit one more thing in our packed schedules.  I think there's a different way to look at it, though.  Instead of another draining task, caring for our spirit is life-giving, renewing our passion and energy so that we can truly engage with life from a place of wholeness and health.  It's not as complicated or nebulous as it may seem.  Often it's as simple as having the eyes to see the wonders of the divine all around us.  It's pausing for a moment to savor the beauty of a fall day; it's pausing in the relentless scheduling of tasks to appreciate the moment you're in.

What renews you?  What activity do you get wonderfully lost in?  Do that.  Take a moment today to simply breathe in and be grateful for life and breath.  When someone asks how you are, pause for a time of true conversation.  Perhaps we can begin to see that instead of busy, our lives are full, engaged, and abundant.

MaryAnn McKibben Dana shared this well in a video that is a supplement to her wonderful book, Sabbath in the Suburbs.  I highly recommend the book and video: