Family and Loss

Each one of our family tragedies ends with a variation on the same theme.

"We should do this more often."

"We should get together for happier events."

"We should plan a family reunion."

"I wish we would have done this when grandma/grandpa/dad/cousin were alive to enjoy it."

We should. But we never did. Decades of secrets, simmering resentments, real and imagined slights, and suspicions of favoritism  all conspire to keep extended family members apart except for the saddest of occasions when attendance is obligatory. We share DNA, a last name and a history, but little more. Somehow, though, for those  brief hours amidst the flower arrangements, dollar buns, and potato salad, we recognize the frailty of this fleeting life, and vow to move past the drama and dysfunction that has defined us for many years.

Tomorrow we'll meet again to celebrate the life and mourn the loss of a man gone too soon. We'll hug and we'll forgive. We'll share memories and we'll tell stories and we'll promise- Promise!- this time will be different. And in a month or a year or a decade when the time comes to say goodbye to another one of us, we'll do it again.

Abundance

November has brought an avalanche of thankful posts to my newsfeed. From an abundance of food, to good health and a loving family, many are writing their blessings on the walls of social media to share with the world. I gave it a try, but didn't quite find it comfortable to give thanks in such a public fashion. 

Here is the truth: I feel guilty for the abundance in my life.

I am keenly aware that while I followed the rules- graduated from high school and then college, got married and had babies, in that order- I didn't do it by myself. Some might argue my husband and I have earned our abundance by working hard and making choices. That's true, to some degree, of course. But many factors beyond our control led to life where we have enough food in the refrigerator and a warm roof over our heads. 

I was born to a stable family. My parents have been married for over 40 years. They modeled tenacity, hard work, and honoring commitments, and I absorbed the lessons of their example. 

Abundance.

My family wasn't wealthy, by any stretch of the imagination. I grew up in a mobile home and dreamed of living in a house without wheels. Yet my parents made their blue collar earnings stretch, and I never worried about filling my stomach or whether Santa would show up in time for Christmas. I had my own room and new clothes, and like many kids took it all for granted at the time.

Abundance.

I escaped abuse of any kind. I do not know what it is to fear for my physical or emotional safety, and I know experiencing those fears would have changed me in fundamental ways beyond the range of my imagination. 

Abundance.

My husband is a good man. He works hard, respects women, and takes his responsibilities seriously. He models what is a good man to our daughters, so that they will understand at the cellular level that they are worthy of respect, honor, and love. Marriage is not easy, but the good outweighs the bad, and we love each more after 15 years than we did on our wedding day. 

Abundance.

 

I am part of a community full of friends eager to support and help when needed. People who worry, people who care, people who can be depended upon to offer what they can with cheerful spirit.

 

Abundance.

My children were born bright, beautiful, and healthy. I do not have to expend resources searching for specialists, schools, or doctors who can help them have a future. I don't worry about them beyond the everyday worries that all mothers experience. 

 

Abundance.

My college degree allowed me to find a job that guarantees a solid income and good benefits. I do not have to choose between staying home with a sick child or losing a day's wages. I do not have to wonder if I'm sick enough to justify the price of a visit to the doctor. I can do what is best for me and my family without worrying if my job will be waiting when I return.

Abundance.

Don't misunderstand. I really am thankful for these great gifts  in my life. Countless people in the world are just as deserving, but life simply hasn't been as kind to them.  Any small twist of fate could have- would have- changed where my family is today. So I find myself in the odd position of feeling  both undeserving and hopeful that my luck will continue. Abundance.

You Are Not So Special

Like mothers everywhere, I am secretly convinced my children are just a little bit more than other children.  A little bit more smart. A little bit more beautiful. A little bit more likely to grow up to be president, or winner of a Pulitzer, or the world's best mother.

But this is what I tell them: You are not so special.

You are not so special that your wants trump the needs of everyone else.
Sometimes (often, in fact) you will experience disappointment and must accept it with grace and understanding. Your wish for a new bike or game or whatever will take a backseat to your sister's need for a new coat and boots, because you, my dear child, live in a world of finite resources. Accept it early and you can avoid a lifetime of looking over your neighbors' shoulders to see if they have more, because it won't matter. You'll have enough.

You are not so special that you are absolved of responsibility for helping make the world a better place.
You have been blessed with the tools you need to create a good life- a warm house and nourishing food,  a loving family, and a quality education. But let's be clear that you did nothing to earn those things. It was an accident of birth, just the same as those born into poverty, dysfunction, and hopelessness. Your birth privilege requires you to work toward helping provide for those born under lesser circumstances. Donating your money and volunteering your time are requirements for you to live with gratitude. Speaking of gratitude...

You are not so special that you can afford to forgo gratitude for complaints.
The world will disappoint you. People will let you down, and the movie reel of dreams that runs through your head will often look nothing like the reality that comes to pass. But choosing to focus on those disappointments and complain about your circumstances rather than recognize the tremendous gifts of love and opportunity that surround you is simply not an option if you want to live a life of joy.

You are not so special that you can ignore your talents and expect them to grow.
Every talent, every skill needs your time and attention to grow and develop. Whether your  heart is fullest when you play the guitar, or look at the stars, or paint a landscape, you must nurture that love to give it a chance to make your life rich. Ignoring what you love in favor of earning money may help you earn a living, but if it's at the expense of feeding your soul the price is too high. Practice, practice, and practice again to give your talent a chance to play a meaningful role in your life.

You are not so special that you are not responsible for your own actions, decisions, and behaviors.
Do not explain away poor behavior by telling me what someone else did to earn it. You have no control over another person's choices, but you can control your own reactions and responses. Bad behavior on the part of another will never, ever, excuse yours. So don't even try.

You are not so special that you can avoid apologizing when you should.
Since you are human, you'll make mistakes. You will be jealous and judgmental and mean and small-minded. You will be sarcastic and dramatic and emotional and defensive. You will lie and twist the truth and overreact. And it will all be okay- as long as you apologize. Mistakes are forgivable, but refusing to acknowledge your mistakes will make it very difficult for people to see past your human foibles to that unique combination of qualities that make you your fabulous self. So when warranted, take a deep breath, open your mouth, and say, "I'm sorry." Don't worry- it will get easier with practice.

You are not so special that excuses will be accepted in place of action.
Listen, I know. Sometimes you just.don't.want.to. There are moments when you'll have to drag yourself kicking and screaming into whatever action is required of you at that time. Do it anyway. The world is a pretty smart place, and whatever excuse you'll come up with to justify your inaction will not  be met with the response you hope for. Trust me on this.

You are not so special that you can choose anything other than integrity to shape your days and guide your choices.
Tough choices await you. Sometimes the easy choice is the wrong one, so learn to listen to your heart and conscience and always, always choose with integrity.

You are not so special that the world owes you anything except the opportunity to forge a path through determination, hard work, and effort.
You have already won the lottery of life. (Remember the warm house, nourishing food, and quality education we've already discussed?) It's up to you, and you alone, to use those winnings to shape your future. You've been provided with the building blocks you need to step onto the path,  but your own effort will determine the direction that path takes. Work hard with gratitude in your heart, and life will reward you.

You are not so special that you can avoid forgiveness.
People are imperfect. Forgive them anyway. Holding on to anger and hurt will poison you far more profoundly than it will punish them. The most important person you ever forgive will be yourself, because the best relationship you nurture is with the person who stares back in the mirror. Forgive your own mistakes and imperfections, find balance, seek out joy, and you will live a life of meaning and love.

Lincoln

Powerful movie. Developing tension for a story in which the ending is no secret must pose a difficult challenge, and yet I watched with hope, sorrow, and true anticipation. For 150 minutes I really believed Daniel Day Lewis was Abraham Lincoln.

One scene in particular moved me, although not in the way you might expect. When the House of Representatives requires information from the president, a note is hastily scrawled  on a scrap of paper and a man literally runs from Congress to the White House to deliver it. The response is conducted in the same manner, and it occurred to me how much drama has been lost the world in these days of instant communication. Those moments of waiting, anticipating, hoping, are largely lost to us in these days of text messages, emails, and impatience.

There are exceptions, of course. The images of our current president and his cabinet watching the screen during the raid that ended with the death of Osama bin Laden are riveting. How many of us watched over and over, fascinated by the sheer energy in that room, wondering what it might have felt like to have a front row seat to history? Perhaps it held the interest of the population precisely because there are so few of them now, when network news anchors break stories even before the individuals involved know exactly what is the story.

Don’t misunderstand- I love my iPhone as much as the next guy. But there is power in recognizing the losses to our culture- our humanity, even- when the drama and tension in our lives is erased with a push of a button.

See Lincoln. You won’t regret it.