Monthly Archives: March 2024

Mar25

Under the Surface

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When I’m at an airport, I often wonder where people are going to or from and why. Airports provide some good people watching, especially for a writer’s imagination. Sometimes it’s obvious like the energized children with Disney apparel headed to catch a flight with their families to Orlando. I once saw a young couple on a flight and the guy was fiddling with his wedding band constantly. It’s new, I thought. Sure enough, they’d gotten married the night before and were on the first leg of their honeymoon. The business travelers with only a briefcase or backpack these days are usually easy to spot. 

But I’ve also wondered about the sad reasons people fly. Someone is going home after visiting their significant other who just broke up with them. Someone is traveling to see their loved one for the last time or for their funeral. I finally fell into the sad category last week. In the middle of the night after conversations with my brother and mother, it became obvious that my dad was at the end of his earthly journey. So, at 3:00 am, my husband Ben booked a flight for me for later in the morning. 

I wondered how I was going to keep myself together in the airport. When one of my kids called to discuss the situation while I waited in the security line, I started crying and said I had to get off the phone so I could at least get through the necessary steps to reach the flight. I don’t think anyone noticed because we were all facing forward, and I wiped away the tears as quickly as possible. I made it without crying until I secured my rental car and was completely alone on the two-hour drive to the hospital. Two days later, I flew home having said goodbye to my father. I had to prepare for the family road trip back for the funeral over the weekend. 

I’m certain I will write more about my dad’s passing later when I’ve had more time to process. About the outpouring of love from family and friends. But right now, a week later, I just can’t help but come back to a lesson I’ve learned over and over and of which I still need to be reminded. Unless you are intimately involved in someone’s story, you have no idea what another person is going through, so be kind. Give them grace. Allow for the idea that someone may be dealing with problems under the surface that you know absolutely nothing about. 

I was on the verge of tears during my travels and had every reason to be in that state. I hid my fragility behind a very thin mask.  Thankfully, my travels went smoothly because if one thing had gone wrong, I might’ve crumbled. If one person had been unkind, I might’ve broken down. We must remember that we may be the difference between someone falling apart or keeping it together when they feel they must. We may never know when our generosity of spirit could make the way smoother for another. But perhaps we should assume that we are the ones who can ease another’s pain, whether we are aware of their struggle or not.    

Mar18

A Caring Heart

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My eleven-year-old son Alex had a huge martial arts test coming up, and he was nervous, as to be expected. He’d prepared for months but this test was different than anything he’d experienced in his martial arts journey up to that point because he’d reached the highest level and rank black belt possible before he turns twelve. This test was the precursor to the test later in the summer after he turns twelve. He had to pass this test or he wouldn’t be able to test later to move up. 

Alex is a sensitive soul and was well aware that the only thing that could stop him was if he got in his head. He comes by his anxiety naturally. A few days before the test in an effort to empathize, I said, “you know I get in my head too.” He shot me a look from the passenger seat said, “I know that!” Obviously. 

On the day of the two hour examination, I sat in my car in the pouring rain waiting until the testing was over because spectators were not allowed to watch.   When it looked like some people had emerged from the studio, I went up and sat on a bench glancing into the window. Alex saw me and shook his head ever so slightly. I thought he was warning me not to enter prematurely. But then his instructor came out to talk to me. I thought “oh no, what happened?” He explained that Alex had gotten upset at one point during the exam when he was holding a target for another student. Even though he said Alex was holding the target just fine, Alex got a bit emotional and acknowledged he was in his head. With his teacher’s encouragement, Alex had recovered and finished though. At that point, I watched helplessly through the window as Alex approached the judge who was delivering the news. 

When Alex turned around, he was elated that he’d passed, but when he got to the car, he let all his emotions out and explained what had happened. He confirmed that the breaking point occurred when he was holding the target for his friend because he felt he was doing it wrong. And he was so scared that he would hurt her chances of passing. He said he apologized over and over because the thought that he might cause her to fail was overwhelming. I told him that I was sorry he’d had a tough time but that I admired him for caring so much about the other person’s success. I told him most people wouldn’t have given the other person a second thought. They would’ve focused only on their own success. 

I can’t help but wonder what our world would be like if we truly believed that our success is tied others’ success. If we truly cared enough to do everything in our power to help others. I am so proud of Alex for passing his test, yes, but more importantly for his effort, resilience, and his caring heart. 

Mar11

Taking the Heavy Backpack Off

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My kids’ school backpacks are heavy. I strain when I pick up the backpacks to move them from one place to another in our house. They carry them every day, all day at school. While they have lockers in their music and athletic classes for their instruments and gym clothes, they no longer use lockers like we did back in the day. They don’t carry heavy textbooks anymore either, but they do carry their computers, binders, notebooks, papers, lunchboxes, and water bottles. They don’t have anywhere else to put the materials they aren’t using in the moment. Everything is in the backpack.

When my twenty-year-old daughter Riley started middle school in 2015, she was so excited to have a locker and shopped to decorate it with shelves and mirrors and pictures. This was such a big deal amongst sixth grade girls that it almost felt like a competition to see who could have the most elaborate or cutest locker. I drew the line at locker safe wallpaper or a locker chandelier. Her locker decorating desire waned as she got older, but when Covid hit, lockers were eliminated to limit close contact and the spread of the virus. The students no longer hung out by the lockers or touched the locker doors constantly. But after they returned to school fully, the lockers did not come back into use. I assume it became one less thing for school administrators to monitor for prohibited paraphernalia, and that was fine with them. And that may be the correct call, but the result is that four years later, the kids carry their school lives on their backs. 

We’ve all heard about the baggage we carry from the past into the present. We often speak of that baggage with respect to our current relationships and how the past colors the now. Or how we sabotage ourselves today with the failures from yesterday. Baggage sounds big though – like we have a roller bag, roomy suitcase, or steamer trunk full of old problems that burden us still. But the backpack symbolizes the everyday to me. The daily worries and tasks that seem never ending. The logistics of schedules that are too crowded and busy. The anxieties about whether all our people are okay. The stress of the regular routine and the dizziness that comes when those routines are disrupted. 

I think we’re all carrying heavy backpacks. And we don’t have lockers in which we can place some of our obligations temporarily. Put some things away and take them out when we are ready to deal with them. There are no shelves in cute, decorated spaces so that we can compartmentalize our issues. I’ve known people who say they can compartmentalize, but I’ve never seen anyone do it well in reality.   

The only time my kids can put their backpacks down at school is when they are sitting in class or sitting at lunch. And they take them off when they get home. I wonder if we can take a cue from them. Even if we must carry the heaviness of life during most of the day, can we put it down for a while when we sit to have a conversation with a friend or when we take a break to rest? Can we make our homes into sanctuaries where everyone can throw off their burdens for a while? If we keep in mind that everyone is carrying their heavy backpacks, perhaps we can invite them to sit with us to lessen the strain even if only for a few minutes. And when they put their backpacks down to sit with us, we get to put ours down too. 

Mar4

For the Love of Female Friendships

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I was shopping in a boutique with my niece when one of the young women working at the store told another employee that her shift was over, and she was leaving. “Love you,” the other college-aged woman said wishing her co-worker goodbye. “Love you too,” she said as she grabbed her purse and headed out. I’m quite familiar with this behavior because my twenty-year-old daughter Riley and her friends have told one another that they love each other for years. Will they see each other in a few hours? Probably, but they say they love each other anyway. Are they blood-related in any way? No, but they say they love each other anyway. Because they do love each other. They are part of a girl friendship, and they share their love vocally and frequently.

When Riley and her friends started this behavior, I was surprised by this generational shift. We did not do this during my high school or college years. I didn’t tell my roommate that I loved her when I left for class, but I bet if I walked onto any college campus today, I would hear, “love you” from many a room. Not that I don’t have women friends that I love. I have close friends from each of my “eras” to borrow a Taylor Swift phrase.

Recently, I had the pleasure of meeting up with three of my friends from my college era in Arkansas. The four of us haven’t been together as a group in ages although I do see some of them more regularly. We keep up on Facebook, so we have some idea of what’s going on in each other’s lives. But the minute we sat down, it was as if no time had passed. Sure, our younger selves would never have anticipated our lengthy discussion about hormones and perimenopause, but we fell right back into a rhythm of sharing and supporting one another. We found ourselves advocating for each other and ready to go to battle if needed. And we laughed and laughed and laughed. I was transported back to a dorm room in 1994 when it would’ve been normal to see us talking and laughing. Thirty years. That’s a long time. Yet it didn’t feel like it had been that long when we sat over lunch for hours until the restaurant started accepting dinner guests. 

When we left, there were a few “love you’s.” But I wish I’d proclaimed it more boldly and loudly. Female friendship is a treasure that cannot be overvalued. I am blessed to have women I cherish from all phases of my life and all geographic locations: college, law school, church. Friends from each stage of motherhood and those connected to each of my children’s lives. And a writing group that has been together for sixteen years. 

If I could speak to my daughter’s and niece’s generation, I would tell them to hang on to those friends because they will be foundational to your lives. When things are going well, they will cheer with you, and when things fall apart, they will hold you up. And from the younger generation, we can learn that expressing our love to our friends is important and beautiful. When we’ve been in the trenches with our friends for a long time, we may assume they know how we feel. But verbalizing those feelings – even if it’s just every now and again and not as frequently as the younger women – can go a long way toward solidifying and maintaining our friendships. 

And to all my girlfriends, I love you!