with Lynne and Leslie

While You See a Chance, Rest

by SweetMidlife

Hi! It’s Lynne.

An old picture of me watching tv in bed because I was too tired to take one when I wrote this post.

So I think God speaks to all of us in different ways. Some hear audible voices, and some hear a warning or encouragement from a friend about something that we never told them but has been on our hearts. I believe God talks to me through pop music. Yes, I’ve heard Him in other ways over the years, but often I am going through things in my head and a song will come on the radio that speaks to me in a targeted way. And the song that has been my kiss from above, more than any other song, is “While You See a Chance” by Steve Winwood. Maybe it’s the organ he plays, or his amazing voice, but this song has always gotten to me. Then it really GOT me.

See, there have been times in my life where I was facing big decisions about moving forward into opportunities that could change things significantly for me, and out of the blue, this song came on. The first was 20 years ago, when I was offered the chance to be in a show at the Kennedy Center in DC. It was an amazing thing, but taking it meant I would have to leave the theater company I was on summer break from, and it meant joining the theater professional union. This opened me up to work at a new set of theaters and would include health care and open doors and the chance to tour in this same show the next year. But it also meant less certainty in between because some theaters don’t hire union actors, and it meant looking for other jobs between gigs. I was about to get on 395 South in DC, headed to my dinner theater show, batting all the possibilities around in my head, when that song came on. And it got to the chorus, the “While you see a chance, take it” part, and I swear I heard a “Lynne!!” in there somewhere, and it seemed like a push. And I was grateful, and took the job, and it changed the trajectory of my life. In wonderful ways.

And over the years, I have heard that song when I was wrestling with things, or about to venture into new territory: I heard it in a restaurant while very pregnant, heading to the last meeting for the teaching artist job I had, and pretty much one of the last professional things I was going to do before the baby came. It seemed like a nice segue into a the next season, and to rest in that.

So speaking of rest, this takes us to this past Thursday. That baby is now 6, and he has his own social schedule and things that he needs rides to, and my husband and I have church commitments, and I am teaching drama and directing a show and about to be in a show, and leading worship at church and there is also dinner to make and things to do and although I am trying to order things in an orderly fashion, it’s a lot.

So Thursday, it was a snowy and rainy day here, and my kid had school, and I was preparing for an after-school drama club that I am excited about. I was on the way to a meeting about an opportunity next year, and I was thinking ahead to drama club, and another lesson my son had that evening, and also a networking event I was supposed to go to while he was at his lesson, and I just felt tired. And right before I left, I got notice that the school system was cancelling after-school events because of the weather, and that was sad, but also took something off of my plate. And I thought to myself, “If weather is stinky enough for them to cancel things, maybe I should not go to the other things we had planned tonight.”

I got in the car, and Steve Winwood came on.

And relief and organ music came over me, and that was conviction. I rearranged my son’s lesson, and I sent regrets to the other event. And we came home after school. And I ate dinner in bed.

Sometimes taking chances means going towards something active and exciting. And this time it meant the chance to recover from excitement, and to embrace safety and rest.

Which actually is pretty exciting too.

 


Work it! Own it!: Having the guts to get paid what I’m worth

by SweetMidlife

I’m Leslie! I’m worth a lot! I am! I mean it! (Photo: Rissa Miller at Balance Photography)

Leslie here!

I have done a lot of things I’m proud of lately – finishing a half marathon, selling a book, continuing to keep my child alive. But my biggest recent personal accomplishment was telling a nice old lady that I couldn’t speak to her nice old lady organization because they couldn’t pay me enough. And I felt OK about it.

More than OK. I feel darn good about it.

I love speaking. Not just in general, as I am super verbose and don’t shut the hell up, but also in formal settings, where I say pithy, moving things about everything from widowhood to local places to eat to whatever the hell’s going on with newspapers these days (That’s a whole other thing.) I’ve been speaking everywhere imaginable, from schools to retirement communities to libraries, for years now, and the more I’ve spoken , my skill, as well as my stature in my community, have increased and improved.

And when that happens, the conventional wisdom is that you’re worth more. Which means that if you charge for your services, which I do, you should get paid more. That’s the way things work, and if you’re serious about being a business person and being paid for the professional thing that you’re good at, you have to do the jobs that correspond to your worth. This means beginning to turn down the ones that aren’t, because you have to look out for yourself. I’ve been having the same conversation about this with my sister and another friend for years now. It’s about how as growing business people, particularly as women that people like, those people sometimes expect you to cut them a break, to give them a discount. I mean, everyone likes a discount, and believe me I get plenty of them, and I’m grateful.

But the truth is that if everyone gets a discount, that discount is now your price. I’m not established enough or rich enough to be giving stuff away for free. I’ve been a reporter for 25 years, a regular speaker for about 15, and I’m about to be a published author. When the paper I work for used to have a speakers bureau, they provided reporters like myself to the community for free and paid us $40 for the time, which seemed like gravy – the job I loved provided me some extra cash and the people I spoke to were nice and sometimes even gave me a bagel.

But that was a long time ago, and I’m worth more, although even saying that sometimes sounds ungrateful due to the conditioning nice girls like me get to feel bad about asking for what we’re worth. My price is now several times than what I used to get. I still want my bagel, tho. Knowing that, of course, is easier than making that happen.

Which came to mind very recently while standing outside of a fancy cocktail bar on a recent girls trip confirming to that very nice older lady that I would not be able to speak to her group. I kind of already knew that- when she’d contacted me a week earlier, already apologetic that her group had a small budget, the number she’d come up with was very, very small. Being a nice grandmother type well practiced in the art of subtle guilt, she’d floated the idea that even though I’m important and busy, perhaps I had some special affinity for her group and would be willing to give them a discount. I do love her group, but again, if you keep giving everybody discounts, the discount is your price. So I saw her grandmother guilt and raised her one case of widowed single mother who needs the money. She appreciated that. But then she said something else.

“Well, obviously. But also you work really hard and you’re worth what you’re asking. We just really wanted you to come. I’ll check with the board and let you know.”

Well, wow. The lady who had asked for a discount was letting me off the hook because she wanted me to know that while she might not be able to afford me, I was worth what I was asking. SHE KNEW THAT. So I had to, too.

The call on my girls trip was to let me know that the board, although really into me coming to speak to them, was unable to come up with the money. I could have sworn that there was the slightest pause to allow me to say “That’s OK! I’ll do it anyway because it’s you!” But if there was, the moment passed, and I told her I was so sorry it didn’t work out but that I’d let her know when I was speaking in the area.

As I hung up and went back to my drink I felt both pleased with myself and pathetic that I thought I needed a cookie to stand up for myself, to ask permission to get paid. It’s stupid. I’m told all day long that I’m awesome. I might as well believe it. It’s not that I’ve never been kicked in the proverbial teeth – see the part about being a widowed single mother – but as things get better, healing continues and my book gets closer to release, I have to embrace not only my awesomeness but my worth. I’m hardworking. I’m good at what I do. And I’m worth it.

Hear that, Leslie? You’re worth it.


Three years a widow: I really am OK, you guys!

by SweetMidlife

Man, we were hot.

Well, look at that. It’s July 29th again! It’s the third anniversary of my husband Scott’s death! Well, isn’t that…a thing!

The only way that this date is not going to be significant and, again, a thing, is for me to be dead and not know that it’s happening, and since we aren’t planning on that happening anytime soon, I’m going to have to deal with the commemoration of this sucky, life-ruining thing every. Single. Year. The first time, I was resolved to be sad and tipsy and kinda backstroke luxuriously in my grief. Last year, I kind of cried and then said “Screw it, let’s do something fun.”

And today….I don’t want to cry. I still do that, sometimes, with no prompting or sad gauzey Lifetime movie montages necessary. I don’t need to manufacture occasions to miss Scott, because I always will. The loss of him will never be OK. It reminds a stupid glitch in reason and logic and God and I are gonna have a long talk about it when I finally do make it to wherever it is we go and meet God. (If it’s my idea of Heaven, it’s an endless “House Hunters” marathon next to All-You-Can-Eat Pad Thai Night.)

But at the three year mark, Leslie. Is. OK. Leslie can smile, and laugh, and not feel guilty about it. Leslie can think about giving Scott’s extraneous dress shirts and sports shorts that still take up too much space in a closet in a bedroom he never slept in, and not feel like she’s picking off pieces of her own skin. She can talk about the times he was a jerk, and not feel like she’s a bad priestess at the Altar of Husband. She can watch the video of his eulogy and not crumble. Her wedding photos don’t seem like the foundation of an elaborate cosmic joke – on her. She can consider doing things he wanted to do but never got to and feel him laughing with her, and not imagining that she’s doing something wrong by still being alive without him.

And that part’s huge. Leslie’s OK. I’m OK.

So today, when you come onto my Facebook page and you tell me stories about Scott, make them happy ones. Make them funny ones, ones about his Ravens obsession and his bad driving and his sloppiness. Make them about his kindness and larger-than-lifeness. I am not the only person who lost him – as his cousin Kenny says in that crazy eulogy, the dude drew a crowd. He was a man that people showed up for, even if he didn’t always believe it.

I am showing up for Scott Zervitz by being what he would want me to be: OK. Better than OK. I’m good. His son is good. We’re good.

And this time next year, I intend on being able to say the same.


The Discoveries You Find When You Walk Instead of Drive

by SweetMidlife

 

Lynne here! It’s a sunny day in Annapolis today, but yesterday was a different story at one point. It was really rainy in the late afternoon into the early evening, and my son had a music lesson in the downtown arts district of town. I decided to run an errand while he was there, and since parking in that area is dodgy, I armed myself with a large umbrella and took a walk. And it was wonderful. I drive down this street a lot, but I often miss things that aren’t directly in front of me, which is good because driving. But here are some of the things I noticed as I walked to the 7-11 to buy my son Doritos that I may have (and actually have) missed in my car.

Things I didn’t know
When you walk down a street and look at things deliberately instead of driving down it on the way to somewhere else, you find out stuff you didn’t know. Like the Subway I planned to buy chips at originally is gone. And I found out the they are building new things in that district because I had to cross the street to walk on the other side because construction chopped up the sidewalk. Plus, the sweet Irish hotel that my husband and I stayed at once as a present from my mom is now a Hilton Garden Inn with a really cool restaurant next door. And I picked up real estate flyers for cool places I won’t live in because I like my house, and also because I can’t afford it. But I love that kind of thing.

Ooh, and I had also missed a mural of the area painted ON THE GROUND. There was beauty under my feet. That sounds poetic.

Isn’t that lovely? It’s the Maryland State House! Painted on a crosswalk.

People-watching Galore
When you are walking, you can pay attention to the people walking past you, and you wonder about their stories. Like did that guy running down the street get caught in the rain, or is he running on purpose? The guy standing outside of 7-11: does he hang out there a lot? Does he know the lady who was buying lotto tickets inside, or are they making conversation? Do the people getting gas and driving notice the people around, or are they things that happen to be there as they go to where they really want to be? And how nice is the 7-11 manager? And I can answer that: very. Are other people as curious about other people as I am? I don’t know.

Things look haunted and beautiful in the rain and picture-worthy and I like it
I don’t know what it is about rain hitting things, but it makes me want to take pictures of it. The sound of rain often drowns out the rest of the outside noise, and makes this beautiful neutral hum. And it makes me wistful, and casts this natural film over things that looks better than an Instagram filter.

Misty pretty stoplight

So, this isn’t a really deep post, but just one about what happens when you literally slow down and take things in. You get an appreciation for things you see every day but don’t really see.


Kylie’s a billionaire at 20 so what are we all doing? A lot, turns out

by SweetMidlife

I come not to bury Kylie Jenner – I don’t know her and apparently she’s nearly a billionaire with her cosmetics empire so even if I tried she could climb out of the dirt on a giant pile of money. I do, however, come to say that almost no one else is a billionaire at 20, or at any age, and that it’s absolutely OK. More than OK, really.

There’s been a lot of hubbub about Forbes’ cover featuring Kylie in a serious business suit touting her as a female self-made billionaire, if you define “self-made” by starting your business with your own money, as she did with assets she made from modeling. Of course many, including me, beg to differ that one can be self-made with a modeling career made possible by both sides of her rich and famous family and her high media profile since childhood, and maintain that the admirable hustle she possesses was still built on a platform she inherited.

Then again, even Kylie’s sister haven’t made the money she has, so she’s doing something right. I am neither jealous nor hating. But I was among those who reacted with strongly to the snarky New York Post tweet that read “19-year-old Kylie Jenner is worth $900 million dollars…What are you doing with your life?” Um, what? I know it’s meant to probably award Kylie for her hard work, specifically at her age, but there’s an unfortunate implication that anyone who hasn’t done that – AND NO ONE HAS – has somehow wasted their lives and is a loser and should feel bad. You don’t have to put down other people to pull her up, New York Post.

A very wise attorney named Michelle Bhasin who I have never met but who I’d like to be my best friend, was one of several people who instead of saying “Umm, not being born into a rich famous family” decided to answer that snarky question sincerely. Bhasin talked about being a professional and raising her kids, one of whom is autistic, and about her community work with the homeless. Michelle Bhasin is not a billionaire, but she’s doing a lot.

Her Tweet was one of several that told big stories in a small amount of characters, of careers made from high school educations, from pulling oneself up from desperate family situations, from barely making ends meet but being able to look themselves in the eye at the end of the day. These were beautiful histories of strong people, mostly women, proud of their lives and their accomplishments, even if they were broke, because what they were doing with their lives was living well. I even added my own, above.

In this age of hate and division and, I believe, value put on the most horrible wrong things, this feed will make you feel good about some hardworking Americans who deserve to be billionaires. They won’t be. But that doesn’t make them any less impressive than Kylie Jenner. Not at all.


Dishes and Such

by SweetMidlife

HI! This is Lynne. We haven’t blogged in three months because other stuff. But I have been writing stuff on Facebook that would make good blog posts, and we have a blog, so I am using it. May not be deep. But writing out whatever it is will be cool.

So this has been a busy week and our dishes kind of piled up. And this morning I had the time to actually wash them. And I feel better. It would be nice to never go to bad with dishes still in your sink, like my grandma does. But I haven’t been able to do that consistently. So maybe every night it won’t happen. But that thing should not be soaking a whole week. Because if it’s that dirty, throw it away.

Dishes that got did. Good.

But sometimes things need to soak. I was getting all excited about getting everything done but there was ONE cup for the Magic Bullet that had stubborn blueberry stains in it, soI was thwarted and had to soak it. I love that word. Thwart. It sounds diabolical. The Magic Bullet cup thwarted it. But I did wash out this Tupperware thing that had chickpea flour in it. So that was a victory. Take that, Magic Bullet cup! That is your future.

My current nemesis. But we good.

So I was almost finished the dishes, and I was finishing up loading the dishwasher, and I could not open it all the way to put the last few things in it because something was stuck. So that was a whole thing trying to figure out what was stuck, and trying to bend low enough to see it and try to reach my hand back and move it. But I figured it out. And I feel like I have accomplished something.

Yay!

So now the dishes are going in the dishwasher, and the cup is soaking, and the dishes I hand-washed are drying. I have done what I can do there for now. And there is a satisfaction in that. But I still need to continue to eat, so this is a temporary victory. But that’s life. Doing the work. Enjoying the fruits of the work. Doing the work again. And enjoying. And remembering when you are doing one that the other fuels that.


Where You Are

by SweetMidlife

Hi! Lynne here. Been a long time. But this post keeps wanting to write itself so I let it.

I have a little kid, so we watch a lot of whatever the latest kid movie is when it gets to Netflix, and sometimes that makes me want to stick my head in a bowl of sand to soothe my ears and eyes from whatever overwrought cheese we’ve been looking at. And other times, I wind up suggesting that thing that we’ve seen a million times because I also love it. That is certainly the case with “Moana”, the story of a strong young girl who looks to save her island from starvation by going out on the sea to complete a task that will restore the sea’s health and her people (I won’t give it away if you have not seen it. But see it.). The art in the movie is beautiful, the music is singable and will be in your head for a long time, and the message of stepping outside of where you are now even if you are scared is one we all need to here. Moana’s big number, “How Far I’ll Go”, has been sung by a million little kids who belt out this anthem of braving your fears to answer the call inside you, and it’s the song that I want most to connect to because it’s about really being yourself and the greatness that can be out there if you change your scenery.

However, for real though, the song from the movie that rings in my head the most lately is not “How Far I’ll Go”, but the song that it seems to answer, the song that comes before it. That’s “Where You Are”, a seemingly jaunty ditty sung by Moana’s dad, the chief, that he sings in response to Moana’s desire to leave their island home and go out beyond the reef surrounding them. In “Where You Are”, the Chief tells Moana of all the amazing things that they have there, like the beautiful coconuts, and all of the people who help each other out, and everyone’s singing and dancing, and happy to be where they are, and just as happily, the dad sings a line that says “And no one leaves”. And that line always gets me. We are happy here. Why go anywhere else? And that seems like a million memes shared on Instagram, about being happy with what you have, and taking care of where you are, and being satisfied and not chasing waterfalls, and sticking to the rivers and the lakes that you’re used to, right? But Moana’s dad’s lesson is one taught out of fear, as he has a story about what happened to him personally when he strayed too far, so now he thinks that it’s in his best interest to stay where he is, and to make that the rule for everyone else.

And I get that. We all have foundational beliefs and traits that make up who we are in essence. Maybe it’s a religious faith, or an identity, or a person. And we want to hold onto those things because they keep us stable. But stable and shackled are two different things, and I fear that we often are more bound than we are grounded, people. I keep thinking of this every time someone on social media declares that the people that they disagree with are soulless zombies with no free thought. This is on both the right and left side of the political aisle, y’all. And we only listen to news from certain places. And only read certain things. And we only have conversations with people that agree with us, and we only comment on the pages of people we disagree with so we can disagree with them. And we stay inside our reef. Eating the coconuts that are there, even when they are starting to get diseased and we feel it. But we continue to eat from that poison fruit because it’s what we know because we are too afraid and stubborn to see what else is out there, because we are afraid that we won’t be us any more, so we starve on our pride. Where we are.

And no one leaves.

But right outside the borders you have set up, there are people and things that might scare you. You’ve decided that they have no hearts. But if you venture out, and just ask a question without thinking you know the answer, you might see that they want the same things. To feed their families. To be safe. All of the things you want, they want too. They have probably been afraid of you, too.
You all should talk. And listen. And you might still not agree. But it’s harder to throw punches when you acknowledge that your wounds land on soft skin that hurts, like yours does.

Step out of where you are. Stop choking on rotten familiar fruit.


Leslie’s “Yoga Every Day” Challenge: I can watch “This is Us” during yoga, right?

by SweetMidlife

I may have been watching a beloved fictional man die a heroic death while doing this yoga video. Or not. But probably.

Mondays always seem like a good time to start a challenge or a new thing, at least to me. There are theories for and against this logic, and of every diet or new habit I ever started on a Monday stuck, I’d have a body like Serena Williams, my room would be amazingly clean and I wouldn’t be stepping around shoes flung carelessly in a pile in the middle of the night.

I am still making my bed. Of course, I started that on a Saturday, so who knows?

Anyway, one of the things I have long tried to do in my life is a daily yoga practice. I’m not rich, nor do I have a nanny or an infinite amount of time, so I can’t go to either of the beloved studios within walking distance of my house every day, or even more than once in a blue moon. This is where Gaia.com, an online community chock full of yoga, lifestyle, spiritual and other videos, comes in (and no, this is not a paid post. There is no financial renumeration for what I’m writing, and I pay for my membership like everyone else.

There are offerings from beginner to advanced, and I’d say I’m a semi-advanced beginner. Perhaps not an absolute beginner, as David Bowie might say, but absolutely in the beginner-I-might-need-a-block-and-yes-this-is-as-far-as-I-bend zone. The Gaia people make it easy for us block-users, however, with some series that are geared to put you in the practice of having a practice. My favorite is “Yoga Every Day,” of which there are currently 358 episodes that run just 15-20 minutes. The site selects one of these for me a day, and since I keep forgetting to do it, I haven’t yet had the same one twice. This is a problem I’d like to have, honestly.

So since it’s Monday, and again, that seemed like a good time to do this, I am challenging myself to do one of these videos everyday for the next 30 days. They aren’t long, I can do them from my brand new yoga mat (also, incidentally, made by Gaia, and I bought that with my own cash, too) and they start my day in a good way because they make me do SOMETHING.

This morning’s was titled “Santosha,” the Sanskrit word for contentment, which at this point of great potential change in my life seems really appropriate. For me, it means that I hope that big things are coming for me, but that I am praying for contentment in my current state and appreciation and contentment in whatever those changes are. The teacher is Steph Schwartz, who I like because she has a calm voice and plays the accordion to start the class. It’s cool. I like her words about intent and peace, and know that she probably didn’t mean me to be playing last night’s “This Is Us” On Demand as I did this practice. But my DVR cut off the end and I only have so much time before my kid wakes up, so…Sorry, Steph.

I’m gonna be better. I have 30 days!


I made my bed today. Is my life going to change forever now?

by SweetMidlife

Just call me angel, on a made bed, angel!

Leslie here! I write you today from my hippie mommy grotto, lying on my scarf and twinkle light-strewn bed, which I made about a half hour ago.  You’re probably wondering why I’m making such a big deal out of making my bed, which I am, because it was cool that I did that and I rock. Because I am an adult person who learned the skill of bed-making roughly 40 years ago, one would assume it’s one I’d mastered.

And I have. I’m serious. I just never do it.

But there’s a train of thought, espoused by presumably put-together people like “The Power of Habit” author Charles Duhigg, that it’s worth it to take the time to tuck in my sheets, straighten up the comforter and even add some of these stuffed animals living around here doing nothing but being cute. Not only will it make my whole room look better, but it could be the first steps toward a great day, and even a great life.

Not convinced. But I’m listening.

Anyone who’s ever lived or gone on vacation with me knows that making my bed is not usually part of my morning routine (neither is neatly folding and putting away my clothes, but that’s a whole other situation.) It’s not intentional – I just don’t usually take the time to do it, because I feel super-busy from the moment I get up. I could blame it on being a mom, but I didn’t make my bed when I was childless, either. It’s not that I don’t know that doing so makes your room look prettier, and makes the bed a lot more inviting when you crawl into it at the end of the day.

I just don’t do it.

But this morning, after doing a yoga video and hanging up the clothes that have been looped over the footboard for a week, I changed my sheets that had child-deposited crumbs on them, replacing them with spiffy fresh-out-the-laundry ones, and then actually fluffed the pillows. I even moved the mail off and put it on my desk instead of just chucking it on a chair or something.

Why is this supposed to be important? Duhigg calls making the bed a “keystone habit,” that sets the tone for the rest of the day. He writes that “making your bed every morning is correlated with better productivity, a greater sense of well-being, and stronger skills at sticking with a budget.”

He’s not the only one. According to the Huffington Post, there’s a whole mess of evidence that making the bed is important because it not only gives you a sense of pride (because you’re not a Messy Leslie) but because it sets an intention. I know about intention from yoga, the idea that everything in your life, from your yoga practice to what you eat to how you dress, is done thoughtfully and with purpose. And that makes so much sense – For instance, I am much more likely to stick to my healthy diet if I plan my meals. Ditto for my workouts – saying “I’ll probably fit it in at some point sometime today most likely yeah that’s the ticket” never works for me. I do better when I either do it first thing in the morning or plan some activity where there’s accountability, like meeting my trainer at the gym or walking my son to school with my mom. Even stronger than my messiness is my aversion to letting anyone down.

So this is where making the bed comes in – If I can take the time to do the most basic thing, just putting back together the bed I just got out of, that sets that intention – there’s that word again – to then make sure I do other things that should be habits, like flossing, or putting my shoes back neatly on the rack, or putting my son’s lunch bag on the doorknob so I don’t forget it. And that’s all before I left the house.

I am not expecting my life to change overnight – I’ve been loose-goosey with the organization and such for 46 years, so these bad habits aren’t going to be changed overnight. But the only way to see a change is to start one. Even a little one. Be the change you want to see in the world, they say.

My bed’s that first change. And it’s super pretty, too!


Grace. Amazing.

by SweetMidlife

Happy New Year! It’s Lynne. There’s something that I wanted to share that’s been rattling around my head.

 

My son has a tablet that he plays games on, and watches videos on, and has fun and learns things, and all of that. And there are times when he gets caught up in it, and doesn’t respond to us calling him because he’s mesmerized by the screen. And this drives us a bit crazy, and we shake our heads at”these kids today”, and screen time, and the like. So one day, my son was walking down the steps with his tablet in hand, eyes focused on the video he was watching, and I said, “Look up at where you are going and put the tablet down”, and as I said that, I had a scene in my head of me walking down those very steps with my eyes on my phone. And I got convicted that I do the same thing. My son has even called me out on it, because we have that drilled into him now, and also because it’s a little kindergarten righteous indignation. Well played, Young Sir.

So I knew that I wanted to write about this, and at first it was going to be about being present in what we do, and being aware of our surroundings and the people in our lives, and that’s a good topic that I have written on before and will again, because it’s an issue for me. But what keeps coming to me in this is how to have grace when you see people doing things that you don’t like that you realize you do yourself. And when that happens, you have several choices.

You can say, “Wow! This is something we both do that’s bad that we need to stop it right now. No excuses”. This is valid. It’s good to recognize when you are doing things that are detrimental, and might cause you to fall down the steps and breaks stuff, and to just cut it out.

Or you can say, “Wow! We both do this thing, and now I understand how easy it is to do it, so now I think it’s not a big deal anymore”. This makes sense in some scenarios, because maybe the thing that you and the other person are doing isn’t going to hurt anyone, even in small doses.

But sometimes the thing is a big deal, or something that could be. And it needs to stop. But stopping it isn’t easy. And you are stuck between cold turkey/no mercy/no excuses and just letting the whole thing go and going back to where you are. But there is something in between, and that is what I think is grace.

But grace looks differently to some people. Some people think that the best way to extend grace is to just let people be, and not say anything, even when they know that the person is in the wrong, or is hurting themselves and other people. They equate grace with speaking nothing negative ever. And I can imagine if their act is something that YOU do yourself, it’s even harder to admit that the thing is wrong.

But here is the in-between. Recognizing that the behavior needs to change. For you both. Even if it requires you to admit fault, or adjust things, or to briefly look bad, or look like a hypocrite. Or say something negative about someone else because you don’t want to hurt their feelings.

I think grace looks like this: “We have made choices that can hurt us. We can and should do better. I know it might be hard. But I love you, and I love me, and we know where we need to be. We can get there.” Kind change.

So I have been telling my kid to look where he’s going when he has is tablet in his hand, and I have been putting my phone down when I do the same. We both have places to go. And we’ll get there quicker without the falling. Graciously.


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