Category: Attitude

Obedience

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I can command it (fourth-graders fear me) but living it is another matter.

After all, it’s my way or the highway.  Isn’t that what we all expect?  It’s taken me 40-mumble years, but I am coming around…a little…to the realization that it’s not always going to be my way.  Not even close.

Every January, the Secular Franciscans in my fraternity start the year off right.  We pray together, and then each of us is given the name of a patron saint, a virtue to cultivate, a maxim to live by, and a person within the fraternity to hold in prayer through the year.

My virtue this year is Obedience.  (Cue eye-rolling.)  Obedience?  Really?  I follow the rules, except for the speed limit.

There’s a little more to it than that, though.  It’s the question of attitude.  Like the “how dare they” mentality I get when I’m asked/told/required to do something that really IS the right thing to do, but since it’s not what I happen to want to do at the moment, I’ve got no mind to obey it.

The word “obedience” comes from a Latin root meaning “to hear.”  That’s what it’s all about, really.  That’s why, when I’m dealing with fourth graders, I’ll sometimes ask them to repeat directions back to me so that I can make sure they heard them correctly.

But what do we hear?  To whom do we listen?  There are so many messages to listen to:  Facebook, Twitter, the news media…I’m reminded of a line from Pippin that asks, “Would a newspaper ever print anything that wasn’t true?”  Are we listening to those sources that have our best interests at heart?

Psalm 119 says:  “Train me to observe your law, to keep it with my heart.  Guide me in the path of your commands; for there is my delight.  Bend my heart to your will and not to love of gain.”

It’s all about “Thy will be done.”  And we don’t want to have to say that.  But if we really believe that God has our best interests at heart, we will learn to say it.

My prayer this year, then, will not be one written by Saint Francis but instead this one composed by Saint Ignatius of Loyola:

Take Lord, and receive all my liberty, my memory, my understanding, and my entire will, all that I have and possess. Thou hast given all to me. To Thee, O lord, I return it. All is Thine, dispose of it wholly according to Thy will. Give me Thy love and thy grace, for this is sufficient for me.

Single-Minded

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I’m a mom.  Multitasking is my superpower.

This weekend, though, I am being forced to be single-minded.  I’m substituting for the light tech at Little Brother’s play.  Fortunately, there’s a high-tech light board that just requires me to push a button labeled “Go” for each cue.

This task requires an amazing amount of focus, as I learned during a rehearsal when I missed several light cues because I had gotten caught up in the play (that I’ve seen three times a week for the past two months…there are no surprises here anymore!)  So I can’t really watch the action on the stage; instead, I look at my copy of the script, following the action by listening instead of letting my eyes get distracted.  It’s easier to stay on track that way (Big Brother taught me that trick; both my Big Kids have run lights before, either at school or for community theatre.)

All that focusing can be a good thing.  It’s certainly something with which I’m completely out of practice.  There are always so many things going on at once; even when I’m the only one home and I’m working here at my desk, I’m keeping an ear out for the dryer’s buzz.  I’m reading several books at any given time.  Right now there are 10 browser windows open on my computer.

There’s a fine line between multitasking and being scatterbrained.

Many times, multitasking can’t be avoided–and in most cases, I’m pretty good at it.  But I appreciate the opportunity I’ve had this week to really practice paying attention.

What "Extracurricular" Means

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Last week when I was substituting for the day at Little Brother’s school, I took the opportunity to tell his teachers that he’ll be having some late nights this week.  It’s Tech Week now for Pippin; the show opens Friday.

Basically, I wanted to let them know that he’d be up late–because I want to know if this is affecting his behavior and work at school.  But they thought I had something else up my sleeve.

“I can change the deadlines for some of his assignments,” one teacher offered.  She seemed surprised when I turned that down.  I told her that we’d make sure the homework was done before we headed out for rehearsals.

He’s been handling 3 rehearsals a week (some of them running until after 10 PM) for more than a month now.  But this week it’s going to be every night, and I didn’t know how that would play out in the classroom.

Apparently I am in the minority here.  These teachers seem to be accustomed to parents who expect that academic requirements be adjusted when extracurriculars get extra demanding.  Around here, it’s homework first.  Sports, Scouts, or other non-academic pursuits, worthy though they may be, do not excuse any of the kids from their school obligations.

Peace and All Good

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Peace.
It does not mean to be in a place where there is no noise, trouble or hard work.

It means to be in the midst of those things and still be calm in your heart.
What an appropriate reflection for this very busy time of year.
Thanks, Dawn!

An Island Never Cries

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When I first heard Simon & Garfunkel’s “I Am a Rock” I felt an instant connection.  That’s me!

A winter’s day 
In a deep and dark December; 
I am alone, 
Gazing from my window to the streets below 
On a freshly fallen silent shroud of snow. 
I am a rock, 
I am an island. 

I’ve built walls, 
A fortress deep and mighty, 
That none may penetrate. 
I have no need of friendship; friendship causes pain. 
Its laughter and its loving I disdain. 
I am a rock, 
I am an island. 
[ Lyrics from: http://www.lyricsfreak.com/s/simon+and+garfunkel/i+am+a+rock_20124809.html ] 
…

I have my books 
And my poetry to protect me; 
I am shielded in my armor, 
Hiding in my room, safe within my womb. 
I touch no one and no one touches me. 
I am a rock, 
I am an island. 

And a rock feels no pain; 
And an island never cries.

Well, except for the poetry part (I prefer fiction, thankyouverymuch.  Failing that, a good cookbook will do.)

Sometimes, though, I find a few chinks in my emotional armor.  Today, I am not a rock.  Or an island.  And there is no perfectly good explanation for that.  I want to be in control of my emotions–and I pretty much knew, the second I woke up today, that such control is beyond my abilities today.

Unfortunately, I do not have the luxury of staying home and sipping tea and finishing the last book in the Hunger Games trilogy today.  It’s going to take every ounce of strength I have–plus plenty of strength I do not have–to keep it together today.

It’s easier, sometimes, to be an island.  But when you can’t, make sure you bring along plenty of tissues.

Inspiring Me Today

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Great affairs do not disturb us so much as a great number of little ones; therefore, receive these also with calmness, and try to attend to them in order, one after another, without perturbation. Thus, you will gain great merit by them. — St. Francis de Sales

I found this very timely quote over at Faith & Family Live.  While blogger Kelly Dolin was discussing life with toddlers, it’s no less true when you’ve got teens and grade-schoolers in the house.

After I found myself defeated, again and again, by the “little things” this week, I need the inspiration.  It’s not like there have been any major crises.  But it’s been a tough week, that has included:

  • Little Brother running a fever of 103.7, complete with a spell of vomiting.
  • An extended-family medical issue that culminated in a 2-day houseguest.
  • A bunch of teenagers who don’t follow the “say hello to the adult at home” rule when they show up to swim.  They also don’t bring their own towels, and they empty my porch refrigerator of all beverages.  And they leave their mess behind.
  • A teenager (yet to be identified) who thinks it’s funny to spell out one of George Carlin’s “7 words you can’t say on TV” with the ABC magnets we keep near the porch refrigerator.  (Usually those are used to wish a friend a happy birthday.)
  • Adventure Boy vomiting on the pool deck (but fortunately not in the pool itself.)
It hasn’t been pretty, and I haven’t handled all of this well.  And some of it’s not over yet.  Now we have to play hardball with a bunch of 15-year-olds until someone apologizes for his use of filthy vocabulary and lack of respect of us and our daughter.
I think I’m going to have to pull out my Francis de Sales book and see if he has any more advice for people like me, who can handle big things pretty well, but let the little things pile up and pile up and pile up until they lose it completely.  It’s going to be a long summer, and I’ll need all the grace I can get.

Dare Not to Compare

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On Wednesdays, Little Brother’s class has gym Phys Ed. The kids in his school wear gym clothes to school all day on their gym days. It gives me a nice little buffer zone to get his regular uniforms all clean and ready for the rest of the week.

Last Wednesday, though, Little Brother’s class had a field trip, and they were required to wear “dress” uniforms. That threw off my whole routine–and I woke up Thursday morning only to realize that there were no clean uniforms for Little Brother that day.

Little Brother is nine years old. There is no such thing as a “gently used” uniform when it comes to nine-year-old boys. So re-wearing the previous day’s clothes was completely out of the question. He leaves the house in the morning looking reasonably neat and returns looking like Pigpen from Peanuts.

He told me that kids have just worn their gym clothes to school in that situation, and their moms write a note to the teacher. So that’s what I did. When he came home, I asked what his teacher had said. He said she laughed–which is about what I figured would happen.

This morning I saw his teacher when I was on my way in to school to volunteer. She told me that it made her day to get that note, because she doesn’t always have it together, and it was a relief to know that some other mom didn’t have it together all the time either.

I was rather shocked that she thinks I have things even close to all together. And then I realized that I always thought she did. I’ve known this teacher for 8 or 9 years, as two of our older children have been in the same class.

We see the surface of other people’s lives, and that little bit that we show to other people is only the tip of our own personal iceberg. Yet we compare ourselves, basing our self-esteem on what little we see of what someone else is, has, and does. The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence; the other line always moves faster.

And then it becomes a great relief to see that someone else is human too; that they are in the very same boat we are; that we all get behind on the laundry sometimes.

Wouldn’t it be a great gift to ourselves if we’d just dare NOT to compare once in a while? Wouldn’t it be a great gift to those to whom we are comparing ourselves, as well? After all, they’re probably behind on laundry, and that’s OK.

Much-Needed Perspective

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At Mass yesterday, the message in the homily was, “God does a lot with a little.” Not only did we hear about Jesus feeding the multitudes on nothing but some little boy’s lunch, but we also reflected on the commitment of those early apostles. They were not Roman lawyers, Greek philosophers, or Asian mystics, Father D told us, though certainly Jesus could have chosen such apostles had he wished to. No, they were ordinary people: fishermen and tax collectors. Maybe, Father suggested, this is because such people would not let their egos get in the way of Jesus’ message.

Ouch. I’ve been guilty of that one lately. We just came through the Triduum and Easter, which means that it was time for my Semi-Annual Musical Pity Party. I sing and play guitar with the Folk Group. We operate on the “Keep It Simple” theory of liturgical music. Keep it simple, and people will feel welcome to sing along with you. It works for us. But our parish also has an Adult Choir. They like things more complicated and elaborate in that choir. And that’s the choir that gets to sing at Christmas, and the Triduum, and Easter.

We didn’t get asked to participate in the Triduum in any way. We were not invited to join in with the Adult Choir for the Great Three Days.

And it hurt. Boy, did it hurt. I went to Holy Thursday Mass and really felt it. And since Big Brother was playing at another church on Good Friday, we went to the service there. By the time the Easter Vigil rolled around, I was so completely upset that I even skipped the Easter Fire. I just didn’t think I could be there without losing it entirely. Even on Easter morning, I was having a rough time.

“You’ll feel better after you go to Mass and sing,” TheDad assured me. And he was right. I needed to get there, put on my guitar, and belt out the Gloria with everything I could muster. After that, I did feel a lot better.

This is all about humility, really. It all boils down to God doing a lot with a little. Our Folk Group may not have been asked to do anything at all for the Great Three Days. But Sunday after Sunday when we’re there at 12:00 Mass, we give it our all. We’re not always pitch-perfect, and sometimes a guitarist will (loudly) strike the wrong chord. Yet when we sing the Gloria, we mean it. And people are singing the Gloria with us. That’s what we’re there for.

It’s time for me to let go of the feeling of resentment that we’re not “good enough” for the Triduum and just rejoice in the fact that we help people pray though music, Sunday after Sunday after Sunday. Maybe we just have a little talent, but if we get out of the way, God can do a lot with it.

Not So Grumpy

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Sometimes you just have to break your own fashion rules.

I figure that I’m not young enough to pull off T-shirts with slogans or sweat shirts with pictures. I make an exception for Notre Dame and any school/team spirit wear associated with my kids, but that’s it.

And I’m not a big Disney fan.

But a few months ago I found a fleece with my favorite Dwarf’s picture on it, along with the words “I’m GRUMPY.” At the time, I joked that I was buying it so that on days when I was feeling grumpy, I could issue a warning to my family.

That’s not how it has turned out, though. When I wear this fleece, my grumpy mood tends to evaporate. The picture makes me smile, and it’s hard to be grumpy when you’re smiling. It’s a weird way to get an attitude adjustment, but it works for me.

I should wear this shirt every day. I’m sure it would never pass the test on “What Not To Wear,” but that’s OK.

Why I’m Thankful Today

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Today didn’t start out so great, but I do have plenty to be thankful for. I wasn’t feeling well yesterday so most of the afternoon was spent on the couch with the heating pad. Fortunately I have a laptop so I was able to get my work done. Also fortunately, I have a husband who can turn a blind eye to a fair amount of clutter that happens when I don’t bother getting after the kids who’ve left a “Hansel and Gretl” trail of shoes, sandals, sweatshirts, novels, pretzel bags, jars of change, school projects and books for projects-in-progress all over the place. I also, fortunately, have a husband who is more than willing to take us to the Chinese buffet when I confess that I’m just not in the mood to cook any dinner.

So there were dishes to wash this morning before I could have coffee (I needed a clean coffee cup, after all). It’s never fun to wake up and find dishes in the sink. But Little Brother got fed, dressed, combed, and out the door with a minimum of drama. Middle Sister did not miss the bus or forget her lunch.

I missed daily Mass because I had a GYN appointment. Not my yearly (that’s coming up in 3 weeks) but a visit because I’ve been having problems. Again. Silly me for thinking that the hysterectomy would take care of all the problems.

The nurse weighed me before she took my blood pressure. BIG mistake.

The doctor kept me waiting for an hour. But then she kept other patients waiting while she listened to my concerns, asked detailed questions about my symptoms, checked on dates, reviewed past test results, and settled on a plan for where we go from here. I felt like I had been heard and that my concerns were respected.

So I left the doctor’s office two full hours after my appointment time. (Good thing I had my Kindle with me!) I was two blocks from the mall, and I decided to run in and check to see if the shoes I had seen on sale last time I was there were still available. Hey, a little retail therapy never hurts. Especially when shoes are involved. As luck would have it, the shoe rack at the Lands’ End Shop in Sears had ONE pair left of my “old faithful” sneakers–and they were in my size. Even better, they were on super clearance: $55 sneakers marked down to $6.99. AND they had ONE pair of a slightly dressier boat shoe left, again in my size, again marked down to $6.99 from $50.

I may have 3 medical appointments scheduled within the next 3 weeks, but at least my feet will look good when I get there.