I had only been out of the room for a few minutes taking care of something in another part of the house. When I walked back into our wood-paneled family room, there was a track meet going on. The event was hurdling, and the 3-month-old baby on his blanket was the hurdle! I watched dumbstruck as my 5, 4, and 3-year old each took off in a sprint from one corner, leaped over the baby, and made it to the other side, turning around to see the next in the relay do the same. Everyone was laughing except for me. This wasn’t the first time I had laid out instructions about being careful around the baby. I was pretty upset at what could have happened. To make the point, each took their turn for one-to-one counsel in my room.
When my oldest came in, she was already crying. She was genuinely sad for not caring for her youngest brother. She sobbed, “I’m sorry, Mommy. I shouldn’t have done it. I won’t do that again.” She received the consequences with humility.
Her brother arrived quite sure I hadn’t been clear. “You never told us we couldn’t jump over Billy! When did you ever tell us that?” There was not going to be repentance over this nor admitting that anything hurt. This one stood firm that he was in the right through it all.
The next sibling arrived, and like his older sister, was sorry.
Andrew, I said. “You understand that what you did wasn’t thinking of the baby?”
“Yes, Mommy.”
“Are you going to be thinking of the baby?”
“Yes, Mommy, I will think of the baby.”
But at the point of pain, Andrew yelled, “I’m thinking of meeeeeeeeeee! “
Setting aside all that I wished I’d done differently that day with my now hard-gotten hindsight, isn’t that life? It’s all fun until it’s not. Right? Whether it’s a minor disappointment in the day or a major disruption going on for many months.
When life lands us into circumstances that cause us pain, we naturally think of ourselves first. We can’t help but show our true colors in our pain. Sometimes I get disappointed in what shows up when I am jolted, but the real test is about recovery.
I do know that our living room track meet didn’t ruin our day. I made meaning of that moment with each kid. We physically moved on to the next part of our day. Either to a playground or our backyard set. We moved on. Kids are great at recovery.
This has been a long year for most of us with many of minor and major disruptions and hurdles. What recovery plan do you have in mind? What will help move you past this painful year?
My recovery plan focuses on three simple ways to engage with my day: movement, moments, and meaning.
Movement is not just about a walk around the block although that’s an integral part of my day. I have discovered the uninterrupted time of bike riding allows for time when I can only reach for my handlebars and nothing else. No phone, no music, no distractions other than what is right in front of me.
Moments are more challenging for me to create because of my fight to focus. I am reading more fiction so I can get lost in a good story. I am intentionally scheduling times with an IRL friend. I to go to my garden to work and rest my eyes on something beautiful.
Meaning makes me consider how any activity is engaging my energy and focus. It doesn’t all have to have a purpose but it needs to be meaningful to me and to what I know will serve others. When I find myself drifting I know I have disconnected and distanced myself from others and what I really want in life.
Consider your recovery plan from the pain and loss from what has been and continues to be a long haul. I would love to hear your plans.
Recommended reading: There’s a Name for the Blah You’re Feeling: It’s Called Languishing by Adam Grant.
I think I’m missing out on the movement lately. I get too distracted by tasks at hand…at this computer. It’s a beautiful day! I’m going out for a bike ride. Love you, Mary!