Poetry From the Mouths of Babes

“Poetry consists of words and phrases and sentences that emerge like something coming out of water. They emerge before us, and they call up something in us. But then they turn us back into our own silence. And that’s why reading poetry, reading it alone silently takes us someplace where we can’t get ordinarily. Poetry opens us to this otherness that exists within us. Don’t you think? You read a poem and you say, “Ah.” And then you listen to what it brings out inside of you. And what it is, is not words; it’s silence.” Marilyn Nelson in a recent OnBeing podcast.

During this particular time in my life as an American citizen, my heart delights and finds rest in poetry. From the Psalms to the words of African American poets to those of children, poetry reaches something deep down inside my soul. On a recent stressful day, I filled up my bathtub, sprinkled in baking soda, Epsom salt, and essential oils, and I just floated. I moved my limbs through the steamy liquid, and it pulled the worries and anxiety right out of my rigid body. That is sometimes how it feels when I listen to or read poetry. Other times, my heart is touched, and I am propelled to ponder the deeper, more complicated sides of life. And sometimes I am moved to action.

About a week ago, I showed up at a downtown park to hear my seventh grade daughter, along with her fellow classmates, read or recite “change makers” poems that they had written. It was a gorgeous, blue skied, North Carolina day. I was both inspired and comforted. Our American future looks bright. These kids are thoughtful, passionate, and full of grace. They will work for justice.

In my daughter’s poem, there is one section that makes me squirm a bit. I am not a savior, though I have tried to be one at times. I have MUCH MORE to say about that matter in my upcoming book – Adopting Grace: A Parenting Journey Out of Legalism. Stay tuned…

Taking a cue from Marilyn Nelson, I will share a few of the poems that I took in as I stood in a downtown square.  I will end this blog without commentary. I hope that you are then, “turned back into your own silence.” Enjoy.

Stereotypes

By Barrett D.

(edited by me. Barrett had a lot to say!)

I walk into a store

And turn my head to the right

I see the boys section

Blue, black, and red

I turn my head to the left

I see the girls section

Pink, sparkles, and ruffles

I ask why?

A few terrorists make a mistake

All of sudden

The whole race is bad

I ask why?

I turn on the TV

Sports is on

It’s always boys playing

And girls are the cheerleaders

I ask why?

Growing up in a world of lies

Everybody says the world is perfect

But it’s not

I discovered that this world is far from perfect

So I ask why?

You say people who love

the same gender as they are,

aren’t equal

That you can only love the opposite gender

You say they're not right

I ask why?

We are all humans

We need to accept people for who they are

And not for what they could be

So live life on the edge

Gain momentum as you go along

Don’t let the opposing force of others

Bring you down

And definitely,

don’t let others push you around

I’d ask why again but

I’ve asked so much already

So instead, i’ll say

My  motto

There will be a day

When there’s no more tears

no more pain

No more fears

There will be a day

When the presence of this world

Will be made new

Will be made great

And there will be a day

When people will change

When people accept

And people will forgive

There will be a day

When you will know my name

Hidden Children

By Hannah W.

In a room that slowly pulls away faith

When you walk in

a glimmer of hope emerges in their face

Through their eyes you can read everything like a book

They wait for the first page of hope to be written

They have so many torn pages behind them

that the true story becomes unclear

Blackouts on almost every page

When they talk

they hold out fresh pages waiting to see what you write

They give you something special and

one wrong move will upset the balance

To them they are forced into a box

blocked from their own voice

I should know

I was in an orphanage at a young age

Trying to balance not being loved

With not being heard

My book tells a story

Ripped pages behind but clean ones before me

What changed?

I found a home

And parents that love me

400,000 children across the US without homes

Find your own voice

Help one person so that they can help themselves

and then maybe one more

Start a ripple of new beginnings in a polluted ocean

You can’t erase the pages you wrote

but you can choose what gets written next

make a change

Unbalanced, Unfair

By Parker F.

This is how it is

Our friends and family afraid

Afraid of coming out

More afraid of themselves

Than being bullied and teased

Afraid of being put under at the dentist

In fear they’ll say something to give it away

This is how it is

Vanilla so much more valued than chocolate

Chocolate fighting to stay on the menu

Just because of the food coloring

Dark chocolate beat and neglected

Vanilla praised and living the life

Just by default

This is how it is

Our mothers and fathers. Same job

Daddy’s balance rising faster

Mommy with a fifth less

Ratio: 80 to 100

Still no women president

Ratio: 0 to 45

This is how it is

Islam, a bad thing

Muslims rightfully fearful

Scared of being a victim of a hate crime

Government officials can’t get back home

Refugees fleeing war can’t get a new start

Stuck in a select few countries

This is how it is

Pulse Nightclub, Orlando

Martin Luther King Jr., Malcolm X

Women get $0.80 for a man’s $1.00

Yaseen, Hanna, Sulaiman, Rayann

This is how it is

Forces pushing and pullingf

Unbalanced, unfair

We can change how it is

You know it

You’ve seen it

You can change it

Spread awareness, don’t remain silent

Make our world balanced, fair

As Children Find Their Way...With Apologies to Cheerleaders Everywhere

As a middle school and early high school student, I desperately wanted to be a cheerleader. I tried out at least four times, and each time felt the crushing disappointment so familiar to the adolescent heart. During the summer between 9th and 10th grades, I practiced diligently with my big strong male partner, Glenn Babus. He made the squad. I did not.

I got to participate in recreational cheerleading (hint - I am the tall one in the middle) but at some point...

I made peace with the fact that I was better on the softball field.

When one of our daughters started participating in gymnastics at a young age, one of her big brothers said, “Mom, you know that gymnastics is a pipeline to becoming a cheerleader.” I don’t think that was his particular desire for his little sister, though years later, he said, “Mom, let her do whatever she wants to do.”

She started young

There are stereotypes about cheerleaders. Sometimes they prove to be true and other times, not at all. Several of my best friends through the years at one time jumped up and down and cheered on her team. They are all lovely and compassionate women.

Our oldest daughter is in the process of visiting high schools and figuring out where she will land next year. We recently visited the place she is most likely to attend. I have heard specific “mean girl” stories about one or two cheerleaders who represent this particular institution. Though our girl claims to be focused on academic matters, the possible desire to try out for cheerleading also comes up as we discuss different places she may attend. She is tiny and flexible and is a solid tumbler.

She has been thrown up into the air by big brothers for years.

I have some mom friends who seem to believe that in smaller or more faith-based schools, the cheerleader climate is different. In my experience, pecking orders abound in large and small, secular and sacred spaces. I also have witnessed that we of faith sometimes kid ourselves by throwing the "God's will" card when in fact it may just be "my will." 

Deep in my heart, I have multiple reasons that I would prefer for my daughter to choose a path other than cheerleader. They range from concussion fear for a child who has already experienced one in quite a dramatic way to queen bees and wannabes concerns to personal preferences around all of the many activity options in high school. But when I cut through all of my fears, desires, and perspectives, the bottom line is that I want her to choose her own path and her own passions. Even if they make me squirm…

I remember when one of our sons was choosing his college. He had great interest in an institution that on the surface represented some values that I do not share. From my perspective, it projected a glittering image full of glitz and gimmicks to attract its students. At a certain point, my husband said to me, “OK. He is getting closer and closer to choosing this college. Are you going to throw a veto card?” My reply was, “no.”  I am so very glad that I did not.

He did go to this place, and it offered him several great opportunities: tremendous internships, small classes, and profound relationships. And as he experienced the part of that school that concerned me most, he made up his own mind. He decided that he too did not value that particular aspect of this place. I imagine that if I had thrown my veto card and insisted he choose another pathway, I would have interfered with his very own learning and maturing process. Today as I was running this story by him, he said, “Tough decision for a 17 year old, but I think it was the right one, just for different reasons than I would have ever thought.” There was no reason at all for Mom to step in and try to influence his decision.

I am doing my best to take the lessons I have learned as a mom into this next phase with our daughters. It is time for them to make choices and experience the natural benefits as well as consequences of their decisions. My husband and I will offer coaching and guidance and support all along the way. Whether or not my daughter tries out to be a cheerleader will ultimately be up to her. Either way, I will walk alongside her.

I would love to hear your stories of when you considered interfering with the choice of someone you love but refrained. Or of a time when you did and wish you hadn’t. Our children and those we love have so much to teach us.

Practicing Empathy

After I came home from the racial reconciliation day that I wrote about in my last blog, I needed reminders on how to respond to my internal emotions as well as to the people and stories I heard on that day. A short little video by Brené Brown on the topic of empathy came to mind. I sat down and watched this three minute video once again.

Brown’s advice on “perspective taking, staying out of judgment, recognizing emotion in other people, and then how to communicate that” were all great reminders. I have probably watched this video about five times since it was first introduced to me a year or so ago. I need concrete reminders.

There was a not so long ago day when I experienced skewed and unhealthy empathy. I got myself into some sticky situations. Holding healthy boundaries is a critical piece of practicing healthy empathy.

One chapter of my upcoming book is called Attachment and Emotions 101. These topics have taken study and professional help to land in healthy relation to so many truths of navigating the world of emotions. They have not always been my forté. I had to retrain my brain and work to understand true and healthy empathy. I have rewritten this particular chapter over and over again. It doesn’t come easily to me.  But I have in fact made great progress.

Brown’s suggested empathic response of “I know what it is like down here. You are not alone” gives specific words for situations when I am confronted with difficult emotions of another. Or when these words are not authentic, I suggest something like this: “I have no words. Thank you for sharing this with me.” Or even better sometimes, just a hug.

There are so very many places to practice empathy as I look around at my personal and communal life: The undocumented immigrant parent who has given specific instructions to their children on what to do if they get home from school one day, and they are gone; The rural base of support for Donald Trump that feels invisible, struggling for work, and left behind; The black moms at the conference who continue to struggle with everyday matters of racial injustice; My daughters as they navigate the world of middle school.

photo credit: Ashleigh Cannon

Empathy requires vulnerability. It invites me to put myself in painful places from my own life experience and stories so that I can relate to others in the best possible ways. Where are you being called to be empathetic these days? I would love to hear from you.

My White Mom Privilege

Though the idea used to make me quite uncomfortable, the truth of my body is that my white skin offers me privilege as I navigate this world. Recently I spent most of a day at a conference called “Bridging the Gap Between Black Women and White Women.” On more than one occasion, my white privilege showed up and slapped me right across the face.

There were vulnerable, raw, honest speakers of both races. Several stand out to me. The first was a mom navigating schools alongside her children, just like me. The story she told was one that I could have slipped into many times over during the twenty-five plus years that I have had children in school settings. She wasn’t proud of this story, but it was her honest experience. One of her children has struggles within the classroom setting. He is loud and likes to move. On more than one occasion, she has been called into the school to talk about his behavior. A highly educated woman, she sheepishly shared that whenever she meets with a teacher or administrator, she very intentionally removes her work badge and lays it right on the table in front of the school representatives. She does not want anyone to assume that she or her husband do not work or struggle financially. Her experience is that sometimes such assumptions are made simply because of the color of her skin.

She is not proud of this show of her credentials each time she meets with school officials, but it is her reality. As she told this story, my heart was struck deeply. I have been interacting with teachers and principals for several decades. Not once have I ever felt that I needed to display my credentials. In fact, I have been a stay-at-home mom for all of these years. I have no badge to throw down on the table. But I enter such meetings with confidence and not one thought of whether or not the school official will make negative assumptions about me or my family because of the color of my skin. I have white privilege.

There was talk of fear around being mom to black teenage boys. I pay attention to news and the stories of Trayvon and Michael and Emmett, so this idea was not new to my heart and mind. As the mom of three sons, I understand the concern that all moms of teenage boys have around possible stupid yet developmentally appropriate choices our boys may make. But the possible consequences are often times so much greater for a boy of color. Even the possibility of death for walking down a street with a certain posture; or stealing cigarettes; or speaking or whistling or looking at a white woman in a certain way.

At my table, the one and only African American teacher in her school told this story. She taught first grade She had a blond-haired and blue-eyed boy in her class. He was very disruptive and destroyed the work of his classmates and picked up scissors to use as a weapon. The principal would come into her classroom, look at this boy, and say, “He is so cute. I can’t believe he could do such things.” I asked her, “How would this be different if this was a black boy?” She replied. “Oh, there was another disruptive African American boy in this grade in a different class. He threw a book in class. They called the police.” He was in the first grade!

As I sat and tried to wrap my mind and heart around these stories, tinges of guilt and the old helpless and hopeless feelings around racial issues arose within me. My most profound and instructive interactions came with a lady that I ended up sitting right beside. She is a black single mom. In time, I learned of how much she has to swallow at work just to keep a job that she needs to support her family. At one point as one of the black mothers was telling her story, I became aware that big emotions were arising within my table neighbor. I touched her shoulder – in my mind, this was a gesture of solidarity and compassion.

Later, we got the chance to have honest discussion around each table. The woman beside me in answer to the ever present white woman question, “What do we do?”, felt freedom to speak important truths to me. She gently and directly told me that “What can you do? Where do we start? You don’t even know how things can come across. When you put your hand on my shoulder, I heard ‘quiet down’.” She also shared that as she was processing very deep and heavy emotions, I asked her a reasonable question that could lead to better understanding between us. But my timing was off.

I shared this story with a friend. She said, “The same thing happened to me in yoga teacher training. It was pointed out to me that I was interrupting someone else’s process. I was comforting my crying friend to make me feel better.” Bingo. That is exactly what I was doing around that inter-racial table. And when my timing was off, I treated the black woman beside me as if she was invisible and my question was more important than her feelings in that moment. She had absolutely no reason in the world to trust me or my motives, given her history and her story.

This process of racial understanding and reconciliation is hard work. It is so easy to get defensive and throw up my hands. As I left that day and let so much of what I witnessed and heard swirl around inside of me, I first felt misunderstood, overwhelmed, and a bit defeated. “This is too hard. I am just going to go back to my own world and forget about trying to reconcile.” “I don’t need this stress in the midst of so much anxiety from so many places.” Then it hit me like a ton of bricks. The only reason that I could even entertain such a thought is because I have white privilege. This is not an option for my sisters of color.

In an interesting twist of circumstances, my table neighbor ended up being the person to give me a ride home that day. Each conference participant was challenged to take one action to increase understanding or relationship across our races. I am grateful for this woman who gave me the gift of honesty and personal growth on that day. I invited her and a mutual friend to come to dinner at my house. I hope that in days ahead, we can continue to have the hard conversations. We have much to say to and learn from each other.

Facebook Fatigue

Facebook Fatigue

Or maybe more accurately this title should be, “how I am navigating life during these crazy, tumultuous days.” No matter your political leanings, I imagine that you feel it too. Over the past six months or so, I have been in an internal process of figuring out boundaries and healthy decisions around Facebook, news consumption, and relationship preservation in the midst of strong disagreement. At times, it has been exhausting.

I have come up with a few ideas on how to accomplish my goals of staying calm, sane, and present to my family while also speaking up and acting upon issues that are most important to me. This is an organic and ongoing process.

Meditation – Whether I am in a yoga class or sitting in my favorite chair by the fireplace with a candle lit before me, I do lots of breathing and meditation these days. I believe that within faith expression, the contemplative practices are making a comeback. We all need to do whatever we can to be more centered and calm.

Facebook “rules” –  I use a screening tool called “facebook purity.” It isn’t perfect but it has helped me make better decisions about how I wish to use this form of social media. It only works on desktops, so I try to mostly check Facebook from there. I most often choose to follow “friends feeds” so I get an update on those I am most interested in following – lots of photos, family news, and of course the sharing of news articles. I usually don’t click on the news links they share (see below), but sometimes when I have a friend who is thoughtful and discriminating about such things, I do. If it is truly news, I double-check the source and only click if it is one that I believe to be reliable. If it is a blog or opinion, I will sometimes engage if the topic is of interest or the author offers a new idea or perspective.

If I have a friend, on the right or the left, who seems to be in a ranting or preachy or over the top frustrated mood, I unfollow them for a time. Sometimes I check back in after a time. Things sometimes settle.

I have some friends that have said publicly that if someone posts political things, they are going to unfriend or unfollow them. I get that response. Facebook is still a place where on occasion I am able to interact with people of like mind and learn of ways to collaborate. I appreciate that aspect of it. On occasion, I find something highly important or compelling and will post that. I am truly ok if that means that others decide to unfollow me.

I do my best to avoid going on Facebook anytime after 6-7:00 pm. Sleep is critical during these stressful days, and I try not to open myself up to anything within my control that might jack me up before I need to wind down for a good night’s sleep.

 I heard a most interesting podcast that interviewed Maria Popova, “a cartopgrapher of meaning in a digital age.” Her challenge to all of us to harness the internet for good and positive outcomes was inspiring. I am working on that in my own interactions with this growing force in our world.

News Sources – This is a new habit that I am trying to adopt. Every morning, before I get onto Facebook, I go onto the news source website that I believe to be most trustworthy, in depth, and reliable. Every day or so, I also go to a source that offers a different point of view so that I know where “the other half” is coming from. I don’t linger there, but it is helpful and instructive.

This discipline helps me when I get on Facebook. I am not as apt to be hearing something upsetting or concerning for the very first time. I realized that when Facebook was the origin for any disturbing news, my mind would swirl and twist and turn. It also helps me to have context for why all of a sudden people on both sides of an issue are posting frenetically. Some days, it is better to stay off of social media. I will admit this is hard for me, but I want to make that healthy choice more often.

Prioritized Response – For me, there are many troubling decisions and issues constantly rolling before me. Opening up to the news of the day can sometimes feel like a giant game of “whack-a-mole.” Several months back, I realized that I needed to go through a process to identify my top three concerns in this particular political climate. I have landed upon my very own priorities.

Having a clear number 1, 2, and 3 has provided clarity. When something happens with my #3, I often make phone calls and encourage a few friends to do the same. If it is my #1 or #2, I take further action steps. I also have a clear pathway forward about how I want to spend my time and energy and relationship building. I pay particular attention to these three matters when they hit the news. I am extremely grateful that when I ask similarly minded friends about their priorities, they are often different from my own. They are hard at work around their passions.

Because of the way that President Trump communicates, I could spend a great deal of wasted time and energy hopping from drama to drama. Many things I have to let roll. But not my top three.

Self-Care – As a parent, I learned in a very hard way that self-care is essential in times of high stress. I almost completely unraveled as a mom and human being during a particularly difficult time (stay tuned for my upcoming book and you can read ALL about it). I am no good to anyone if I don’t take good care of myself. Personally, that means a great deal of exercise, healthy food choices, sleep, monthly massage, and hanging out with people I love and who make me laugh. I believe that for at least the next four years, and most likely well beyond, the therapists, yoga instructors, and masseuses in our world have great job security. All of these are a part of my self-care plan.

How have you managed the 24/7 news cycle, disagreements with family and friends, and your very own Facebook fatigue? I would love to hear from you. I am always looking for new ideas about better ways to live.