The Grace of Living in Community

I don't remember what started it. Maybe it was staying up late last night. Maybe it was the excitement of the local festival. Maybe it was all the candy they'd downed at said festival.

Whatever it was, when my children climbed into the van, they did so with - How shall I say this? -  less grace than I would have liked.

And I, stellar mother that I am, oversaw said loading into van with less grace than I would have liked. Sliding the door shut with more force than necessary, I moved to the front of the van and sat on the hood, thinking that maybe they'd figure out that we weren't going anywhere till they settled down and began behaving like little human beings who have been carefully instructed on proper manners and conduct.

Go ahead. Laugh with me.

As I settled into my hood-top perch, someone behind me and a few cars away said, "I know that feeling." The father chuckled and continued unloading his van, and I laughed, too.

We all know that feeling. Sometimes a reminder that we aren't alone is enough to dispel that feeling.

We were out of the parking lot in moments, and our stop to fill up the van went off without a hitch, but the best was yet to come.

As we tumbled out of our van and into the grocery store parking lot, an elderly lady stopped and looked at my children most wistfully. She remarked on how beautiful they are and asked if they are all mine. She then told me very sweetly that I "have a job,"  and that I'm doing it very well. (If only she'd seen me sitting on the hood a few minutes before!) Maybe I'm a great mom, maybe I'm not, but her words reminded me to be a great mom - or a greater mom - right then and there. Her words - words of love and encouragement - lifted my spirits as I headed into the grocery store with four energetic children.

We were almost to the entrance of the store when the most bizarre, wonderful, tear-inducing thing occurred.

My son, so often prone to keep to himself as much as possible, asked my permission to go help an elderly lady load her groceries into her car. Permission granted, he approached her and pleasantly offered his help. She declined, but my heart soared seeing his desire do something so simple, yet so beautiful for someone in his community.

We live and grow and thrive in community. None of this - not the encouragement I received nor the connection my son made - could have happened in isolation. I had to take my children out into our community. I had to be honest enough to sit on the hood of a van of screaming kids. I had to be humble enough to let an elderly lady see the inside of my van, in all its candy wrapper-dirty socks-towels left after swim practice-glory. And my son had to see a frail woman with a cart of groceries standing at the back of a beat up station wagon. There is amazing grace in living within a community.

We never know when our words or actions may set another's course in an entirely different and vastly superior direction. So be nice. And moms, dads... If you're wondering what happened to all those lessons you've taught your children from the cradle, they're in there, they'll come to the surface when you least expect it, and it will be nigh unto impossible not to cry when they do the beautifully right thing on their own.

These seemingly insignificant events have left me humbled. At the close of a half hour that began with less grace than I would have liked, I found far more grace than I ever would have imagined.

On the Subject of Negativity

I jokingly subtitled my last post, The Post in Which I Ignore All Things Negative. It was a joke, mostly, because we all know people whose lives are so perfect you want to, I don't know... spill gourmet coffee all over their spotless counter and wipe it up with their brand-new, organic cotton washcloth. Or maybe, don't judge me, lick up said mess because who wants to waste coffee?

But seriously. I know those people, and I roll my eyes at them, too. Life isn't perfect. It's full of messiness - literal and metaphorical - and I'll never pretend it isn't.

But here's the thing: It felt really, really, really good to sit down and write about everything that's going right. Maybe it's a bit self-congratulatory, but maybe it's a lot refocusing. Maybe it's where you exchange doubt for confidence.

So, here's what I want you to do - because today, I'm going to be all hokey and ask you to do something. In the comments section, tell me what's going right in your life. Don't be shy, don't be meek. Look around and see the beautiful things happening in the midst of your mess and chaos. Rejoice in those things.

Other Things (or, The Post in Which I Ignore All Things Negative)

So, we're still here. 

In the midst of other things, I haven't completely forgotten about this blog. It's just that, well, other things take up so much time.

We've been back to school for a while now, with a sixth grader, a fourth grader, and a first grader, plus a four-year-old who loves to color pages and pages and pages and pages and... yes, even more pages. Our home is a sea of paper on the best of days. (On the worst of days, it's a sea of coffee and chocolate milk spills and dog vomit and laundry, but not all weeks are as filled with messiness as this one).

Despite the mess and chaos, we're learning. 

Our oldest is learning independence, responsibility, and diligence as he delves deeper into his studies. He's also joined me in some flash fiction writing exercises, and it's always a delight, though sometimes a little frightening (ahem, Sith backstories), to see what flows from his creative, eloquent mind. Our biggest obstacle is staying on task, as there are so many other things we'd rather learn than, say, grammar... (Scratch that. I love grammar. I mean, things he'd rather learn!) But even in that department, we are progressing. Slowly at times, yes, but Rome wasn't built in a day, though he might be able to tell you how it was built, complete with sketches of ancient architecture - a lesson I don't perfectly recall assigning.

Fourth grade has a different set of challenges and delights, the biggest of which are both found in the need of the child in question to have me nearby. We're spending more time in discussion, with closer supervision and deeper explanations, now that Andrew has moved to Middle School level materials and we have switched to a Math that requires more teacher instruction than our previous program. He, too, is learning so much. He's learning to take deep breaths, to see each task through to completion, to correct his errors. I hope he's also learning how very awesome he is, how he can do anything he sets his mind to do. Because he is and he can, and I am so proud of his growth over the past couple of years. I'm also thankful to him for teaching me the very lessons he's learning himself. We are, as I often tell him, in this together.

Then there's the girl, who in addition being (usually) eager to complete her lessons, has shown steadfast determination to keep up with all the older, more experienced kids on the swim team. Her Wise and Wonderful Aunt could probably tell you the origins of such plucky competitiveness. Even so, it amazes me to see her so at ease among her teammates, so eager to please her coaches, and so enthusiastic about each practice. 

Last but not least, our little Doodlebug is not so little. At four-and-a-half (How on earth did that happen?), he's sweet, funny, smart, creative, and all around incredible. He is also singlehandedly destroying the forests via his insatiable appetite for coloring, drawing, writing... (What does he do with all that paper?) 

So we're busy and we're messy and we're loud. We're navigating through laundry and paper and books and things we aren't sure where they came from or where they're supposed to go. There are weeks when I'm in such a fog I repeatedly run the Keurig without a cup, but when I write it all down, for myself as much as for anyone else, I realize that in the midst of all those other things, we are alive and we are well.