The word floating through my mind today is intention.  Our pet rat Zach died yesterday.  Zach was a Christmas present from my sister to one of our kiddos 2 ½ years ago.  (And yes, dear sister who just had her first baby,  we are already planning ahead for the pet gifts we get to bestow upon you in the years to come!)

We knew the time was coming, but it’s never fun to lose a pet.  I’ll admit, he was really stinky so I was not too terribly sad this time.  Heartless I know.

The events of yesterday remind me of a time a few years ago.  Let me tell you about Ninja the hamster. 

I rarely had to think about Ninja.  He lived in my 9 year old son’s room and was dutifully fed and cared for without fail.  During a particularly hectic week, I was told that Ninja had one bowl of food left, and was asked to pick up a new bag at the store.  I had been to the store several times throughout the week and each time intended to get the food, but each time I forgot. 

I’d remember as I walked in the door, checked on Ninja and made sure he still had food.  He did, and I promised to get it next time.  This pattern carried on until Saturday night.  Finally, I ran back to the store at 11:30 p.m. to get the food.  All was well. Ninja had been running on his wheel and the kids had played with him during the evening.

Unfortunately, I got distracted.  Instead of feeding Ninja, I put the food on the counter and went to bed. 

The next morning, my son went to feed Ninja but came running back downstairs with tears in his eyes and Ninja in his hands.  “We were one day too late, Mom. Ninja died and it was my fault.” 

Immediately, I said, “What!?  I know he had some food left.  I had been checking each day.” 

“No, Mom he didn’t have any food.” 

To which I replied, “I am sure he had some.  I kept checking.”  The evidence of the dead hamster wasn’t enough for me.  We ran up to the bedroom to check the food bowl and sure enough it was empty.  It must have been empty for days.  I’d made a mistake. 

We were crushed.  We sat and cried together, and my little guy said, “It’s all my fault.  I have gotten so busy this week that I didn’t notice he was so hungry.  I forgot to take care of him and now he’s dead.  I just want a second chance.  I will do so much better.”  My son was willing to accept the responsibility.

I felt terrible.  It wasn’t his mistake, but mine.  In this moment, my greatest intentions were not enough.  I had the food that could have saved the hamster, but I didn’t follow through.  My heart was full of goodness.  I wanted him to be ok, but I did not do my part. 

Am I doing my part in our family?  It’s a good question to ask.  I don’t mean are you running around crazy trying to do everything.  My guess is that you are, just like I was that week.  But stop for just a minute and consider your foundational relationships.  Are they getting the attention they deserve?

I do my best, but sometimes if it’s hard or inconvenient, I let things slide and excuse myself; promising that tomorrow will be the day.  There comes a time though when I have to take action.

Like my son, “I just wanted a second chance.”   That chance comes when I choose to accept responsibility and create change.  When I choose to stay present and feel gratitude in each small moment—even the really hard ones.

I am strong enough.  I can ask for help when I need it.  I can’t always do it on my own, but I don’t have to. You don’t have to either.  I’m here cheering you on.  Others are cheering you on too.  What do you feel to act on today?  What change needs to enter your life?  What will bring you closer to the people you love?

Choose one thing today.
 

This week has been one where things I know in my brain really hit my heart with a new depth of understanding. 

 I wouldn’t call myself a worrier, but deep beneath the surface it’s there… percolating. Our families have a lot working against them and it’s hard not knowing what lies ahead.  Have I taught my children enough?  Are they really listening?  Do they deeply value our opinions?  Will they stay free from addictions?  Will they make choices that bring them true joy?  For me, facing the unknown is one of the hardest things in life.   I really don’t like it.  Let’s be real.  Sometimes I just want to know that this story of our life has a happy ending.  And if I had my way, I would write a great story. 

Even harder than not knowing the ending to this story is knowing that I only get to write a part of it.  Only 1/6 to be exact!  I hate it!  And I love it!  I hate it because it’s hard, it hurts, and I can’t control it. 

I love it because the freedom of choice is at the core of our experiences in this life.  Allowing choice acknowledges mistakes, embraces pain, and requires a deep level of acceptance and trust.  It also brings strength, passion, energy, and purpose to our experiences. 

With every choice, I write my own story.  Our stories are messy and full of imperfection, and the only way to travel through the unknown is to trust. 

 What do you trust in?  I trust in God.  I trust that He knows who I am and that He is watching over me.  I trust that He has a plan for me and that it’s a good plan; even when I can’t see a clear path.  I trust that He also knows my children.  He loves them even more than I do.  Which is good.

Good because each of my children are busy writing their own story.  The story I can’t control.  All of my worry and fuss will never change the fact that this is their story too.  Yes, I play a role.  The role I try desperately to fill is that of a mother.  I love.  I teach. I show up.  I embrace them in their yuckiest moments for all they bring and for who they are becoming.  I set aside my own fear and sit with them in the mess. I let them know that mistakes are a part of the journey and there is no shame in living and learning.  I listen.  I ask what they are learning.  I STOP telling them what they need to figure out.  I learn from their wisdom.  I offer support and guidance.  I feel their heart, see their dreams, and trust in their path.  And, then I forget all these things.  I start to worry again and try to grasp for control.  Then, I remember and I write so I can remember. 

So I have a choice.  Do I cling to fear and control?  Do I step into trust and belief?

Today I choose trust.  When we believe in our children and champion their efforts, we empower them to take charge and write their own messy story full of growth and experience.  What do you choose?

How many times do you reach the end of the day and wish you had a second chance to go back and re-do the not so great parts?  Only to find at the end of the next day, you are feeling the same frustrated feelings!  Identifying where I fall short is no problem.  It’s climbing out of this rut that’s the hard part.  That’s why over the years, our family has spent a lot of time practicing the Art of the Re-Do. 

The second I realize I don’t like what’s happening, I have to stop it!  I mean literally and physically freeze myself and ask for a “Re-Do.”  Then, everyone goes back to where they were just moments before and we start over.  It gives my brain, and more importantly my heart, a moment to kick in and consider how I really want to proceed.  Younger children are much more forgiving in this area, but most of the older kids I get to ask would love to see their parents try again.

A while back, my 10 y.o. chose to tackle some melted crayon art project we saw on Pinterest.  We gathered a few supplies, talked through a few quick instructions, and he got started.   Before too long, I was off in another direction and he carried on hot gluing crayons onto the poster board.  Soon I heard the blow dryer in the background and thought, “Check him out.  He figured out a way to hang the poster and he is going to town.  Love that independent spirit!”

I was excited to see how the project was coming and unsuspectingly walked out in the backyard.  I found the poster board pinned to the stucco on either side of the kitchen window.  On the ground just beneath the poster was the couch cushion from our outdoor furniture.  Standing on the cushion, with blow dryer in hand was my independent soul smiling and innocently spraying melted crayon wax everywhere.  It was on the stucco, window frame, blow dryer, and was steadily dripping down the poster board onto the couch cushion.  Now, I know you can’t see it, but WOW—it was a mess!  All those feeling of admiration and affection shifted to frustration and anger as I did what came most naturally.  I yelled, “Aaaaah!!  What do you think you are you doing!?” 

Remember—I knew what he was doing.   I had left him to figure out a plan….and he did.  It just wasn’t the tidy adult plan I had in my head.

The happiness and joy of the moment disappeared in an instant.  His eyes welled up with tears and all the confidence from a moment before was gone.   Stunned he stared up at me. 

Too mad to respond, I yelled, “I’m so angry right now I need a minute to cool off.  I’ll be back.”  As I entered the house, just before I slammed the door, I heard a tiny voice say, “I’m just doing my project.”

The rest of the family was gathered in the kitchen.  As I walked in, their faces confirmed what I already knew—my reaction was out of line. 

It wasn’t the frustration or emotion I felt that was the problem, but my reactivity to it.  I lost sight of my son.  All I could see in that moment was the mess—the huge mess!   These moments sneak up on us.  Fear takes over, we react with anger and hostility, then later feel regret and shame.   This is where the Re-Do comes in.  We have to lay down a new pattern in our brain.  It takes practice.

I gave myself a minute and turned back to go outside.  “Hey, bud.  I really messed that up.  Can I try again?”

With a nod to the affirmative and a few tears he said, “I don’t know why you are so mad at me.”   

Back inside I went.  This time I walked outside and in a very surprised and loud voice said, “WOW!  Look at that artwork!  Whoa, and crayon wax everywhere!”  Deep breath and softer, “Help me understand why the picture is here instead of on the fence and why the cushion is on the ground.”

Now to me, the situation was very clear, but to the 10 year-old brain, the perspective was a little different.

“Mom, the cord on the blow dryer didn’t reach very far.  The poster kept falling off the fence and crayons were breaking off so I just put the picture right here.  Then I couldn’t reach it very good because my arm was tired and the cushion made me just the right height….”   After a hug and some guidance, he came up with a plan to help clean up the mess.  We relocated the poster and he finished the project. 

Now almost 2 years later, I have gotten over the mess on the couch cushion and even smile when I see it.  The crayon has faded and is barely noticeable.  Together we keep learning and practicing.

Shifting from reacting with anger to responding with empathy is tough and requires consistent effort.   It doesn’t just happen.  So next time you lose your cool…practice a Re-Do.

The Art of the Re-Do sounds like this:
“I didn’t respond very well.  Can I have a re-do?”  Or  
“I made a mistake, can we do that over?"
“Aaah!  Stop!  Let’s re-do this and try again.”
“Stop -- everybody rewind!”  

Choose one.  Then, everyone literally goes back to where they were just moments before and starts over.
Yes, it feels awkward.  Yes, we might look silly.   No, my peeps aren’t always excited.  Yes, there might be some eye rolling.  AND, yes, it’s highly effective at creating a new pattern.

Where can you try again today?  Be bold and create a new pattern for yourself as you open the door for thinking, accountability, and connection.

Mistakes--I make a lot of them.  My kids do too.  Mistakes are part of being a family.  The learning we do within our homes is full of trial and error.  How would I have ever learned the difference between between powdered sugar and flour if I hadn't accidentally made a loaf of banana a bread using all powdered sugar!?  
I only made that mistake once!

Mistakes are an inevitable part of our journey, so why not befriend them?  If we choose to, each mistake we make, gives us the chance to practice becoming more of the person we want to be.  
Mistakes are gifts of learning in disguise.

Rather than getting stuck in frustration, anger, and guilt try something different this week.  Choose to learn from your mistake and try again.  Try again from a new perspective, a more confident stance, or place of forgiveness.  And when you mess up again, just get up and try it once more.  
Failure only occurs when we quit trying.

No one in your house needs you to be perfect so STOP IT!  
Be kind to yourself and press forward in your imperfections.