Life is this simple: We are living in a world that is absolutely transparent and the Divine is shining through it all the time. That is not just a nice story of a fable. It is true. -Thomas Merton, quoted in After the Ecstasy, The Laundry, by Jack Kornfield
When I was in counseling last year, my counselor would give me homework.
One of my assignments was to stop all the Doing in my faith walk – the Reading, Praying, all the activity, and just rest in God’s presence.
I couldn’t do it.
I did try.
I would sit, but moments later I would be up again, to write something down, put something away, fix something that was crooked, to trim my nails, anything so that I didn’t have to be alone with my thoughts.
Today, we’re celebrating 16 years of life with our oldest. As the firstborn, he’s suffered the insult of having to Be Helpful and Responsible when none of his siblings were old enough to chip in. He has probably borne the brunt of our parenting mistakes.
He’s the one who’s welcomed all the additional siblings into his life, sometimes grudgingly, sometimes with happy pride. It never failed that any pregnancy he complained his way through (“We don’t need any more kids!”), he warmed right up to the baby once it arrived.
He is confident, has a high emotional IQ, and is kind and magnanimous with his younger siblings when we least expect it. 
His interests differ from mine almost as much as they possibly could – he listens to heavy metal and his eyes light up talking about bikes and outdoor activities that carry a high risk of death.
There is a steady march of packages to the door, full of bike parts and tech accessories. There is a steady march of friends to the back yard to hang out, repair broken bikes, or gather before leaving for a ride.
Every time he leaves the house, I pray for his safety. Every time he comes home, I breathe a sigh of relief.
We have a bit of an awkward relationship these days. He doesn’t want to be accountable to his parents, (or have his mom give him goodnight hugs), but he still has two years left before he is legally an adult. So we do a sometimes rewarding, sometimes uncomfortable dance of giving those last few lessons about maturity and life skills while he’s still with us.
In just a few years, the hands-on parenting will be finished, and we’ll just need to be open and supportive to the direction One takes as an adult. It’s enough to make you start questioning if you made enough of the right parenting moves.
But tonight, it will be take-out pizza and wings, celebrating a milestone birthday for our tallest kid. He said he didn’t want cake, so I made two batches of my favorite cookies. I hope he doesn’t mind.
Happy Birthday, Tall One. We love you.
This past weekend at work, I spoke with a disarmingly friendly and open coworker who shared her tradition for New Year’s with me. Every year, she cleans her house from top to bottom, down to bathing her kids, and her family shares a meal together. There may also have been other family activities, but what really stuck with me was the cleaning.
Each year, starting out with a clean house, and clean kids.
From what she said, it sounds like she has a 2-bedroom situation, while my house is two stories and five bedrooms. She has two kids, while I have seven, 4 of whom need help to bathe.
For me, starting the New Year off with a clean slate is not a one-day enterprise. But I loved what she said about giving herself and her family a fresh start each year, and I started thinking about what I could do to make some version of it happen at our house.
Just before Christmas last year, I was surrounded by stuff to do, and I wasn’t doing enough of it. I was sitting in a pile of my own expectations and failing to measure up. And I was listening to Pandora’s Pentatonix Holiday station.
I’m still listening to Pentatonix Holiday radio. This year, I have the paid version and no longer have to listen to creepy Subway ads. When I don’t feel like Christmas music, I listen to something else instead of listening to holiday songs out of some strained sense of loyal obigation.
We decorated our tree just days before Christmas. I didn’t go with my family to pick it out.
After the trip, I felt like a different person. I experienced total relief from the stuck feeling, social anxiety, generalized anxiety, and had a feeling of inner worth and peace that went to my core. The difference was immediately noticeable to the others in the group.
As the rest of the retreat went on, and we had opportunities to share our experiences with one another and continue to practice meditation, mindfulness, and other activities to help us remain present. I found that I could sit still without restlessness. I could meditate with a clear head. I could fearlessly make eye contact when I chose to. This is a big one for me – I used to fear that if I allowed someone access to that window into my soul, they would see something ugly or unloveable.
In the information we received ahead of time, we’d been asked to bring something – art or music – that we could share with the group.
