My Joyful Mysteries, and A Revolution of Real

I didn’t write yesterday. For many reasons. 

I didn’t want to write today…I’ve had a lot of truths come up recently but also a lot of life. 

There hasn’t been enough time to stop and write all of the thoughts rushing through, as I pray, as I drive kids places, as I listen as they share their choices and lives, and loving them through the growing pains and heartaches. 

So maybe I’ll just share one piece. One part. But it was a big part. 

A real part.

Can I start by saying how much I love my Daniel? 

Can I start by saying how I don’t deserve to be his Mom? 

He is the most loving, compassionate, passionate person I’ve ever known. 

This morning I was tired, and I was the worst version of myself. I was impatient, and unkind, and hurt his heart with my words because we were running late. 

You want real? 

That’s my real. I was an asshole. 

And then things didn’t go the way they should’ve when he went to play his soccer game. He left the game feeling even more deflated than he should have. But who he is was noticed. He was named Team Captain for the week. Still he cried on the way home. 

He works so hard in life. 

I had apologized to him earlier before his game and he never thought twice–He forgave me immediately. Because that’s who he is. He is a million times better than me. 

I apologized again after. and he hugged me so hard. 

Harder than I deserve. 

5 hours later. 

He was serving at Mass. He looked so handsome up there. 

When we were walking in, they asked us to bring up the gifts. We have only been asked to do that once in all the years we’ve been there. 

Micah took the wine- Jonah took the hosts–and Grace took the Collection. And I walked right behind them. 

Toward the other Altar Server, towards the Priest, and toward him…my Daniel. 

Who was beaming at us. 

Whose face was so proud of us. 

Whose face holds more faith in his twinkling eyes that I can ever dream of. 

My heart swelled and hurt with love. I don’t deserve that love. 

I swallowed back tears and thanked Jesus for loving an undeserving me, and thanked him for the millionth time for my children. 

They are the most beautiful gift I’ve ever been given. 

My God, thank you for my Daniel. 

I learned a lot of truths today. 

And it hurt. 

But I also think I saw a tiny glimpse of God’s love in my 11 year olds eyes. 

Right in that moment as we walked towards the altar, as he looked most at home. 

And his eyes shined such love. 

We don’t deserve this love, and yet…

There. It. Is. 

Not because of who we are, but because of who He is. 

be the kind of person who at every turn points directly to God. 

be a servant. 

be a leader.

draw together, not divide. 

show love. 

My hero is in the United States. 

I am a Christian. I am proud to be a Catholic. 

Pope Francis is reminding people that Gods still got a hand in this country. 

Everything he does points directly to Jesus. 

And Faith is a Verb. 

Two weeks ago I gave up a meeting at work I had led for almost 10 years. It was after months of prayer and trying to juggle. The decision was not made lightly. 

Last night I sat in the bleachers watching Jonah’s baseball game alone. His Dad and I battle it out on who gets to go, because it’s a practice league and on cold nights one goes– and the other one stays home or does kid duties. I sat and watched, and looked out at the field. I wished in that moment my life was like “The Field of Dreams.” How nice it would be if God would just tell me what the next step is. 

Maybe He could whisper through the breeze, or write something on the board above the time at the baseball field. But the breeze stopped right as I thought about it, and the board remained black. 

I kind of wish I knew the next part to my story. 

A nudge. That’s what God gives me. 

 I get the nudges. 

My decision two weeks ago may only seem big to me…

But it was important one. 
I had invested a lot time and care with my members of that meeting over the years. It was the first one I led. I care deeply about their success. But ultimately there wasn’t really a choice when I felt the nudge. 

And I will always choose them. 

Daniel cried when I told him I was taking him to soccer.  

 So maybe there hasn’t been words in the sky. Or a voice. Maybe I don’t know what happens next. 

But I’m listening to the nudges. And right now, there’s no place I’d rather be…

At night we tell them “time for bed girls” and they both go upstairs. They shared Grace’s toddler bed and now they share her twin size bed.

Grace gives Annie no choice but to love her…

I don’t think Annie minds at all. ❤️

(Joyful Mysteries: I’m sure I wrote about this similar topic months ago- but writing daily and reliving experiences puts this on my mind again.)

Words.

We use them everyday. Lots and lots of words. 

We use them to greet each other, we use them to silence each other. 

Sometimes we speak without words…but they are still there. The words we aren’t speaking. 

Words can bring us hope, they can fill our days we good news…

“You got the job.” 

“You are beautiful.” 

“Thank you so much.” 

“It’s a healthy baby girl.” 

And they can be filled with knives that jab and cut right to the heart.

“Your story isn’t relevant.” 

“I hate you.”

“I’m done. We’re done.” 

“I’m so fat.” 

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t find her heartbeat.” 

How often have I heard of excuses people make for words they use to harm others? If there’s one thing that gets a rise out of me is lack of accountability for words.

“I was in shock. I’m really young. I didn’t realize they would take me seriously. Well, it’s NOT my fault she got offended.” 

If you used them. Own your words. 

All these words upon words. 

We use words to be passive aggressive. 

We use words to bring clarity. 

We use words without thinking. 

I am an overthinker of words. I will second guess myself and second guess every single conversation…worried I have offended or hurt someone. It’s why I try not to gossip. It’s why my friends call me the vault- I don’t want my words to perpetuate hurt. I’m not perfect, and I know my words aren’t always either. 

I believe words can wake people up to bad leadership- and shake things up in a good way, but sometimes the most beautiful words are words that tell us the harsh truth even when we’re not ready to hear it.  Sometimes good speakers words aren’t truth led. So those types of courage are hard but necessary. 

In a different way I have been deeply hurt by being the receiving end of gossip- even as much as this past year. And in one instance by someone I trusted. Words about me and my character hurt my soul. 

I still feel guilty years after telling the boys to “Just shut up and listen.” once when they were fighting and I couldn’t get their attention. I still remember the time I told my Mom I hated her- and still feel bad. I still remember the first time a boy told me he loved me. And I still remember the time my (then) best friend called me homely. 

I remember the words my husband said to me the day he asked me to marry him after he washed my feet, “I promise to honor you everyday of the rest of our lives.” 

On my happiest and saddest days  I remember words perfectly. Words woven and binded together, and seared in my soul. 

So why the hell??? 

Why is it we don’t acknowledge or recognize the power of our words…the weight they hold? 

The way they can hurt. 

The Way they can heal. 

I’ve spent a good part of the past year finding words to bring my real today- and I have thought long and hard about if my words will resonate and unify or hurt and divide. 

Yesterday I was asked if I was pregnant. Again.

It must be some sort of sick joke- 7 times in one year. 

It wasn’t by a mean person. But she wasn’t thinking. She didn’t know how I’ve dealt with health issues the last two years. How my self esteem is in negative range. 

When she said it I used my blanket quick response/ the kind of response to not let her know the way the words took me to a place in my mind that hurts…

You don’t look good. 

You look pregnant. 

And you can’t even get pregnant. You’ve tried. 

At first those thoughts told me it was vanity- because I felt pretty that morning. I’m finally getting color back in my face- I don’t look sickly as much any more. My metabolism has started working slowly again. I’ve been making great gains on my health. 

But instead I blinked back the tears and I went on with my day. I Kept pushing it from my mind- Stood up taller, made sure my skirt wasn’t bunching. I can’t change that it happened- it happened. And as much as it hurt I was determined to not let the words define my day. 

I’ll admit they did for a bit. 

But I changed the words in my head. I felt pretty that morning because I feel better. And for right now that’s enough. 

Because it has to be. 

I think of the most brave eloquent women I know. I think of their quiet strength in hard realities, and I think of how much their words help me. Time and time again. 

And they believe my words matter. 

And my God believes I matter. 

My words, my real…need to uplift a God who creates beauty from ashes. 

I want my words to uplift- but also to seek to find the good in life…

On the good days, on the hard days, and on the real days. So maybe the moral is to really consider the intention behind your words. You never really know someone’s real. 

Because when in doubt- know how powerful your words are. To your family. To your children. To your siblings. To your spouse. To your friends. To others.

Sometimes you just can’t go back. 

You can’t unsay stuff.

So say the good stuff. 

All the good stuff. 

The things you think but forget to acknowledge. Those are the words worth remembering. 

Words are powerful, and real. 

Let your words be a gift like your life. 

Today something happened that was a pure sucker punch to the heart.  The kind of sucker punch that made me put on sunglasses inside because I started crying. 

BUT in trying not to focus on that–I won a mug at our parish picnic. And it’s my favorite bible verse in the whole world. My whole theme in life, since I was a kid. 

I never win stuff- and what an appropriate gift, so I truly believe this was a message for me. 

The moral: life will sucker punch you –but Keep the Joy of the Lord as your Strength. 

People can be mean and dumb, and human…but God is good. 

The joy of the Lord is my strength. 

Those words are on repeat. All day long. 

Remember the little things, because most of the time they are the Big things. 

Give compliments. 

Say Thank you. 

Listen openly without just thinking up your next response. 

Be kind.

Trust your gut. 

Pray. A lot. 

Love well. 

Give second chances. 

Try. 

Don’t gossip. 

Be a good friend. 

Be a real friend. 

Cry when you need to. 

Laugh even more. 

Wear pink. 

Take more windflowers and rocks and gifts from your children…

Find joy. 

Choose gratefulness. 

Be. Present. 

tired. 

My eye is doing that weird twitchy tired eye thing. I feel every single part of this busy week right on the surface. I think my hair is even exhausted.

but I already know next week there will be less stuff and people to manage…and I just know I’ll have it more together. 

I was in my car for over two hours this afternoon picking and dropping people off…

And tonight I am tired. 

So I’m self medicating by listening to Paul Simon with my Daniel and my Love- and I may just let myself drift off… 

  
So sweet dreams to all the parent-warriors surviving the first weeks of school. May you fake it until you make it- just like  Daniel and I fake sleeping for the purpose of this picture for this post. 

You are doing a GREAT job. 

Hi, my name is Kristin and I’d like Motherhood with a side of guilt…

No I never asked for it. It came for free. A little something extra.

This week the guilt is big HUGE stuff. 

It’s right there. When I try to sleep at night I feel guilty. Was I there enough? Did I do enough? 

Do. They. Know. I. Love. Them? 

It’s the second week of school and the routine is still new, the oh so busy is still new…and I feel so much guilt. Because we are all feeling the busy. 

Which piles on more guilt. 

Maybe it’s because I’ve branched out beyond just doing things for the family. I have a couple of my own things. And while I keep hearing how important things it is for me to do that…I have a little secret, the past 14 years my entire identity has been in being a good Mother. 

Not a perfect mother. But a good one. 

And it’s hard for me to admit that. But it’s there- it has defined me. And in many ways that gave me a lot of good excuses to avoid looking at my own stuff. Because I was focused on the feeding, clothing, loving of the mind, body, and spirit of my kids. 

I have lived it completely. 

So even though people say it’s good for me to have and do things beyond what has been my life, it is like a foreign language I don’t speak. I don’t understand. I don’t know how. 

I’m trying really hard. But I haven’t found the balance…yet. 

So tonight I came home from singing and I lay on the couch as my family slept, and I asked myself what I would say to a friend if they were in my shoes. I pretended I was my own friend…I closed my eyes and spoke into my heart. And I’m pretty sure the Holy Spirit whispered a little too. And I’m writing it- even with my fear you’ll think I’m a narcissist- and I actually feel guilty about that…but here goes: 

You are a good mom. You are. You love your kids. You are their biggest defender and their biggest cheerleader. You are there every single day. You’ve only left them 6 times since you’ve been a mother overnight. You are there. 

It’s not perfect, but you never wanted to be. Because you want them to see your flaws, to know people will make mistakes. That they will fail and have to apologize.  You want them to know how to forgive. And love so hard, even though your heart may break- you still loved. You wanted to share your real. 

And your kids are so proud of you. They believe in you. You see flaws and they see you. And they will never doubt your love. Ever.

That. 

So, maybe we should all spend time speaking light into our hearts and not feeding the guilt.  I’m not quite there yet but I will tell you something- even though I ask myself questions after dark…I already know the answer. My kids know that they are my greatest accomplishment. 

I haven’t found the balance yet but I’m trying. And tonight I may sleep better of this…my kids know. They know, they know, they know. And I know that they know I love them. 

too tired to write, but not too tired for this…Ah Star Wars. 

Happy Wednesday.