Embracing Being Lonely

It's Lent. It's a time of being in the desert. I'm pretty addicted to the fame drug. I like to be liked. I like to have my work noticed and praised. I like to have my character noticed and praised. I like to meet new people and enjoy new ideas and new experiences.

The desert is lonely. The desert is monotonous. The desert is anonymous. It's good to be here mentally for six weeks.

The most important thing I do as an artist is to take creative risks. The most important thing I do as a wife is to learn how to be consistent. The best thing I do as a Mom is to stay calm. The most essential thing in my faith journey as a Christian is to resolve my internal lack of trust issues with God.

All of those actions happen easier when I wean myself off the "fame drug." Life is easier when I start to move from an internal place of thoughtful conviction, rather than racing around trying to frantically copy the behaviors of the society around me. 

How I Learned To Fight Acedia

Ten years into stay-at-home motherhood, I stopped feeling the flickers of envy whenever I saw Facebook pictures of richer Catholic sisters' pictures of island vacations with their husbands in midwinter. “What was the point of leaving?” I suddenly told myself. The pointless feeling of acedia had permeated into my bones.

After that odd experience on Facebook, I stopped seeking escape from my feelings by planning more dates with my husband, or by searching for a new job, or by discovering a better book. Instead of asking to avoid the hard work, I started asking God a new question: “How can I find fun inside this cycle of uncomfortable work?”

I’m a sanguine. I’m the original party girl. After a hard Saturday spent racing sail boats or debating guys from Princeton, I used to spend my Saturday Nights dancing at Smith College. I rode horses and danced the Cha Cha at Law School. Before kids, my way of coping with a hard work was to live for brief moments of fun and distraction.

Motherhood is not a party. I clean toilets. I bake bread with minimal ingredients. I tell small children to wash their hands and I coach teens how to develop emotional resilience. I spend too little time with my husband and too much time with my car mechanic.

The answer to my acedia was to stop escaping my work, and start to embrace my work. I made myself clean the house with care even when I felt stuck and negative. I started decluttering the little girl’s room even when it felt useless. I kept my advice simple and repetitive to my teens.

As a Mother, the work that I do is a routine. I get up. I help a baby. I make food appear and I wash the laundry. I decrease the dirt around me. I lead. I teach. I parent. I problem solve. I try my best to pray and make art happen everyday. I write some stuff on Facebook that is beloved and some stuff that is misunderstood and some stuff that is hated.

Somehow after 18 months of doing the same stuff in different moods everyday, I realized that I’ve grown into a more decent human being. I now have original thoughts on commonplace problems in our society. I have the stamina to write a novel, create an environmental conference, and attend city council meetings. All the things that I wished I could do at 25, suddenly become more possible because of my faith.  

This Lent I want to focus on Mary’s words, “Do whatever he tells you.” A key word is whatever. Our society likes to make distinctions between “work”. There is paid work and important work and menial work. My spiritual bff, St. Teresa of Avila, models something outside of this cultural paradigm for me. There is no menial work when something is done unselfishly for Christ.

This Lent may we all shine in our interior internship with Christ.

Law School For the Pre-School Set

If it wasn't so boring and so expensive, I'd tell every Mom to go to Law School. There is no better training ground to learn how to talk reasonably to people who wildly disagree with you.  After 13 years in the trenches, I think one fo the definitions of 'good parenting' is to maintain a calm and friendly demeanor while my kid is expressing her innate Constitutional Right to strongly disagree with me. 

This morning I found my 5 year old standing on her 3 year old's sister's bed while she pulled a new teeshirt over her head. Now this situation was semi-understandable given the dynamics of a large Catholic family living in a small 1950s house. I have currently a 'nursery' room that contains a small IKEA bed for the 5 year old, a small IKEA bed for the 3 year old, and a full size crib for the 1 year old all in an 8 by 10 space room. (My youngest son will eventually join the 4th bedroom of his much older brother once he's passed the choking hazard stage.) My 5 year old's decision to stand on her unmade sister's bed to get dressed was a little understandable considering the small room size and the proximity to their joint closet.

I looked at this situation while I was working in my kitchen and I knew that my kid's behavior would eventually create a problem. Because we are a large family, living in a small space, we have to be extra vocal about "property rights." I asked my 5 year old to get off her 3 year old sister's bed because it was "her bed." 

My five year old said "What do you mean?"

Then at breakfast we had a good 10 minute talk about "property rights" in language that a preschool set could understand. I describe that each person's bed was "their private space" and that a sibling couldn't use it without asking. I gave them the legal jargon of "express permission" in simple terms. My little kids really got that concept. Then excitedly each claimed a favorite stuffed animal as "theirs." 

To solidify their understanding I used a contrast situation. (Which is a technique I used all the time to explain the law to clients). I told them the living room chairs were property held in common or "everyone's chairs." My kids don't have to ask permission to sit on those chairs. Yet a stranger is not allowed to open the door and sit in our living room chairs without permission. These chairs are common property only for members of our family. Everyone else needs to get an invitation to come inside our house and sit on our chairs.

My daughters eyes light up when I talk to them like adults. I like to explain the "why" behind rules for our house. I like to take their needs inside consideration whenever possible. For example, today they asked to add the "private property" label to their favorite stuff animal as well as their beds. 

It's one of those situations where having 2 daughters only 18 months apart with radically different personalities share a bedroom seems more difficult. Yet that pressure makes me be more deliberate and more careful in my parenting. I'm grateful for that constant practice to be a good peacemaker inside my own family.

In 48 hours, I'm going to my local City Hall and requesting that they reorganize a public access right to clean water in honor of Flint, Michigan and the Elk River Chemical Spill. I'm nervous. My experiences lawyering today while in my bathrobe while I waited for my coffee to brew gave me a boost of confidence. Inside the heart of every decent Mother, grows an expert skill set in  peacemaking that could make a UN Delegate proud.