Changing Seasons

I wrote this ten years ago, as a mom of 4 boys under 10. So much has changed…So much hasn’t. This is for all of us, parent or not, to embrace whatever is, because there-in is the make up of our very lives.

I notice it with each changing season...the tiring of one, the slow entrance of the other. And yet its amazing how fast it goes. I can hear it every August...the sounds of summer getting tired. One weekend I am packing the kids up to swim at Great Grandma's and eat hot dogs and cool whip desserts, and the very next weekend there is a coolness to the air, a scent in the breeze that is ushering out the old and bringing in the new, and the house is filled with the smell of pumpkin bread. Its hard to let go of what we had, and yet we can't experience the new if we hang on too tightly to what has passed.

Isn't it like that with our lives too? I often reference my college years as "the best years of my life." But that was the last season of my life before this ten year parenting era I am currently in. And it represented everything that I don't have now...complete freedom, time and energy to explore and learn and play with my friends all of the time, and a support system next door, and down the hall, and everywhere. My newly married season was so short I don't even remember it (thank you surprise pregnancy). And now I look back at having just one child with a sweet longing. Longing to go back to the simplicity of those days. But I forget how lonely I was back then. Thats the cool thing about the human brain...we tend to remember the good and forget the bad.

I have lived through enough transitional phases that I can feel them coming and going. And I have learned to try to embrace them for whatever they are because I know that whatever the season is...it will change. And most likely, I will long for that time back. One day I will be older and my kids will be on their own...I will browse Target guiltlessly for more than 3.5 minutes and I won't have to drive my shopping cart like a race car. I will go out to eat with my friends and we won't have to meet at Chuck E Cheese. My house will stay clean for more than 1.8 seconds. I won't have to cook every night for 6 people, or cut up fruit every single stinking day. I won't have to start a train of thought only to be interrupted 400 times in 2 seconds and completely forget what I was thinking about, let alone have a real conversation with anyone. My "guest bathroom"(aka the boys bathroom) won't always have a faint smell of urine to it (despite my multiple times a day effort), and sickness and fatigue won't constantly follow me and mine everywhere we go. One day. But on that day, when it comes, I am guessing I will miss, even long for, the days when my kids sat at the kitchen table and threw (I mean played) play doh. The day will come that I will sit on my neatly arranged couch and stare longingly at the floor remembering how each and every day, the couch cushions were strewn on that floor representing some action packed game the boys came up with. I doubt I will ever miss stepping on legos. But I will miss the imaginations that built ships and airplanes.

I am exhausted. I have one more week of maternity leave. I am already teaching my Cedarville class, and between that and life, I literally feel like each day is a marathon. It works until it doesn't. Then I get stressed and irritable. Then I feel like a failure. Then I think my kids hate me. Then someone posts a link on vaccines and I second guess and doubt myself and wish I had 2000 more hours to research all of the questions in my head, and I wish I could learn to grow my own food and make my own bread. Then someone else mentions how their 2 year old knows the entire alphabet and can count backwards from 100, and I wonder where I went wrong. Then someone else tells me about their hot yoga classes and the 579 mile marathon they trained for and I wonder how they squeezed that kind of time out of our allotted 24 hours in a day. And just when I am about to go crazy wondering how everyone else does "it," I realize that I do "it" too, and I start to settle back down into my normal...what works for us.

I can see it all changing...the seasons passing. Landon is inching ever so close to his tenth birthday. The conversations I have with that kid blow my mind. And demand so much emotional energy. And Noah is on his heals. I see it. I feel it. He IS a changing season. And Everett needs me to play garbage trucks and get down the play doh and take apart the vacuum for him. And then there is Silas. And I want to bottle him up. Because he is changing before my very eyes. And I get upset sometimes because I can't just sit and soak him up. I try to be purposeful about it and steal as many moments as I can...but the truth is, I want more time. And as much as I want this crazy, exhausting season of my life to ease into something a bit less demanding, I don't. Because one day I will look back with longing and wish for this very season. And it will be gone. Just like college is gone. I will never forget when Landon was 4, he pointed to a picture of himself as a baby and asked me, "Where has that baby gone?" The baby had grown into a preschooler, leaving only a trail of beautiful memories behind.

Every single choice, every day costs something. We choose one thing and let another go. I think that is why so many of us second guess so much. Doubting ourselves and comparing our normal with everyone else's does nothing but add guilt to our already over-filled plates. So the marathon mama...she chooses that at the cost of something else. And the natural mama...she chooses that at the cost of something else. And the mama who has a clean house...it comes at a price. And the mom who is involved in every single area of her kid's life...it too comes at a price. So does working outside of the home...so does being a stay at home mom. At the end of the day, the question we must ask is if we can live with the price of our choices. Many of us criticize people who choose differently because it makes us feel justified in our choices. That is insecurity. Confidence is the courage to do your thing, your way, aware of the price but ok with it. Because the season is fleeting, always fleeting. Little choices, big choices...they make up our lives by flavoring and sometimes determining our seasons. The winds of change are ever blowing. Our normal is the sum of our choices.

When I look back, I want to know that I was there for the big things, and noticed the small ones. That I tried to make happy memories (although many times to be honest the fun things have bittersweet mixed in).  But at the end of the day, no matter how many times my voice raised too many octaves or my words were poorly chosen, I want my children to know in their hearts that they were loved. And wanted. And cherished. But life is a balance and while I try to make choices that will stamp love on their little hearts, I also know that I cannot be everything to everyone, including my kids. So I cut myself some slack when I just can't do it all or when I fail miserably, and even when I sit in the back bedroom and cry because I never thought having a family would be this difficult. Then I wipe those tears away and go cut up some more fruit or change the 50th blow out diaper of the day...and try again...and again...and again. But at the end of the day, as much as I want to be for my kids, I can't do it all. I am grateful I can ask for forgiveness and teach them to be humble by both giving and asking fo grace. I can teach them about honoring their own capacity and self-compassion, by admitting and advocating for my own limited capacity.

What am I getting at? The emotions you feel ...the ones we never talk about. Yep...those. You are not alone. I feel them too. But just as summer is fading to fall, this season of our lives too shall pass. Sink into your normal today. As messy as it may be. Its ok to wish some of it away. Lets just be real...we really are not going to miss the pee smells in the bathroom or the legos digging holes into the bottoms of our feet. But get grounded in the beauty that is your season right now, find something and let it be your calm in the midst of the storm. Because they will stop saying those cute words, and they won't always need us, and for heaven's sake...one day they will cut their own fruit. I want to know that I was present. Whether my season in life right now is good or bad, its my life, and I want to be present. That means real...experiencing the highs and lows and all that lies in between. And if that terrifies any of you for any of a thousand reasons, then know you are not alone. If you can be present on the mountain tops, it will carry you through the valley. And if you are present in the valley, you will find the strength to hope and to travel to the mountain top. If you refuse to be present, you will miss it all. I will miss it all. And that would be a shame to miss our very lives.

Daisies: A Legacy

I just finished my afternoon cup of tea. When I was a little girl, my grandma (a British war bride) watched me nearly every day and together we would enjoy a daily tea time. Through all of those formative years, this woman taught me so much. Still now, at 89 years old, she teaches me so much. My grandma had six children (5 boys and 1 girl). She lived through a very dysfunctional, abusive relationship and had no where to go as her family was across the ocean. She had no car, no drivers license, no money and no way out. They lived in a tiny house and in that place, she raised these six children and taught them love. 

The past 5 years of my own life have been wrought with hardship. But out of that pain came a vision. A vision to create a space for women to come with their heavy burdens and find support, clarity, community, empowerment, love and grace. These were all things I desperately needed and could not find during my darkest days. All of what we offer on our Holistic Health Retreats are aspects that would have made all the difference for my grandma, had she had an opportunity for something like this. 

We just finished leading our second retreat. At each of these retreats, we leave daisies in random places as they are my grandma's favorite flower. She is a part of this retreat. Her wisdom, her tenacity and strength, her ability to hear the voice of God...it is all interwoven into the very fabric of what we offer and how we offer it. 

Numerous times during both retreats, I just sat back and listened...as community and connection were formed. As strength was found and grabbed hold of. As clarity rose to the top and the swirling confusion began to subside. As women who are nothing alike, found similarities and made connections. As they were brave and authentic and tried new foods and new practices. As I watched gifted women live into their calling, using their gifts to serve others and to honor God. I leave these retreats so full. Full of life and hope. Humbled. Grateful. 

The word "Daisy" comes from an old english word which refers to the fact that they open anew with each new dawn. Daisies are a tenacious little flower, beautiful. If you trample them down, they keep reaching up. The daisy symbolizes purity, innocence, loyal love and beauty.  In the very center of the flower we can see what appears to be the sun. That is how it is with my grandma. At her center, is the Son. As a team, we feel humbled by the invitation to be involved in this kind of work. The brave women who show up at these retreats are tenacious. These women keep reaching, keep growing. They don't give in or give up. They try again with each new day. The fight for love.  Just like a daisy...just like my gram.

To see pictures or to register for a three day retreat: http://khcounseling.com/retreats/

To register for a one day Space to Breathe Retreat: http://khcounseling.com/day-retreat/

Hey You ~ Move Towards the Light

Growing up, no one ever told me that this life would be a fight. A fight for balance, a fight for truth, a fight for a voice, sometimes a fight for sanity. Sometimes we have been fighting so long, that we just have to survive. I remember times like this. Times when I just had to do the next right thing. Make the next right choice. Do the next hard thing. Show up. Be brave. In really hard times, just get up. 

Its during these hard times that a support system is so important. Friends who can speak truth over you...sometimes hard truth, but always sprinkled with grace and love. Family members who accept you as you are, and (hopefully) love you with the closest unconditional love this world can offer. And sometimes mentors, therapists, counselors, and spiritual leaders who can offer you help in ways that others cannot. Sometimes the questions are too many. The hurt too deep. You need a window to climb out of the dark room. The best therapists, are those that help you to do just that. They help you to spot the Light, and move (however you can) in that direction. Light casts out fear and depression and hopelessness. The more we bring things into the light, the more freedom we will find. 

Going to therapy is brave...therapy is for the strong. It is for those people who want to live and love more courageously. I cannot wait to meet you, brave one!

Give me a call at 616-422-7509 or drop me an email at kristen@khcounseling.com and let me know how I might aid you in your journey. Or join us for a guided holistic womens' retreat in which we pour into and nourish your mind, body and soul. Check the website for details: http://khcounseling.com/retreats/ 

Dear Me ~ Do Not Forget The Thaw

Dear Me ~ 

Remember when you wrote this? Remember how this process began? Do not ever forget.

I remember when I first started to run almost a year and a half ago now. I could barely make it twice around the subdivision. I would eagerly give up after I hit that second loop because I was tired and ready to be done. But now I hit that second loop and have no problem pushing right through the breathlessness. I really don't think I am in any better shape. I have had a pregnancy and two months of no exercise. The difference is that my view of pain has changed. When I was pregnant, I wanted so badly to go out and move. To run, to feel the wind, to have that outlet. But I couldn't. I could barely make it through a day. I think two years ago when I started using exercise as an outlet, I knew in my spirit that I was about to enter a defining time of my life. I didn't know then all that would come down, but I sensed it. Having lived the past two years, I have learned to lean into the pain, knowing it will make me stronger. I no longer run from it. I have learned to lean in.

Tonight as I ran, the snow was melting all around me. Water was running down the street in cascading rivers reaching for the drainpipes. It was as though I could visibly see the snow hills shrinking. I couldn't help but feel it in my soul too. Tonight I felt the thaw. So much has happened and I have gone to such lengths to protect my heart, that it has been safe, but frozen. Which means all but dead...dormant. Tonight as the streams of melting snow ran down the road under my feet, it was as though it was running out of me too. That maybe, just maybe this is the beginning of something new. That spring could be on the horizon. That new life is about to spring up, and the parts of me that have laid dormant will awaken in the warmth of the spring.

I didn't want to thaw. I resisted it. I knew I was choosing to remain safe and to keep my illusion of control. I loosened my grip on hope and faith and love. I all but let it go. But Love held me. And the warmth of Spring is gently beckoning me. And my heart, while still buried under a mountain of snow, can feel the sun seeping through, and instead of refreezing in an attempt to be safe, I think I am going to give into the thaw. I had convinced myself that to thaw was weak...to trust, to believe, to hope, to dream...it all felt weak. But I am learning that to open up...to take risks...to even begin to hope is the strongest action I can take...because it takes a thousand times more courage than does staying holed up in my protected safe zone. I hope to go forth smarter, wiser...but with the same heart that God created me with. There may be cracks and scars...but its still mine. I am still me. I don't want to be held back by the bondage of shame and fear and hurt that has held me captive. I want to go forth in freedom. And to do that...I must give in to the slow thaw. I must begin to dream again...to hope...to love. And that starts by simply opening up my hands, and lifting my face to the Son...basking in His warmth, knowing that in it and through it all, He held me. And He holds it all.

Do not ever forget, me. Do not forget the journey, and the lessons that you learned along the way. You will use them your whole life through.

~Kristen

Hey You ~ Joy is an Act of Courage

Dear You ~

For as much as I hate physically running, I am an emotional runner. Its what I do. Its what I have always done. When I feel scared or vulnerable or hurt, I run. I hide. I cloak myself in anger and isolation and build walls of safety in an instant. And I hide behind those walls. Taking those walls down is so very difficult. And the more times I try to take those walls down brick by brick, the higher they go if a wound is reopened. And before I know it, I look around at my walls and realize that I am safe...nothing is getting through those walls...but I am all alone. Safe...but alone.

We were made for community. For relationships. But those of us that have been hurt in relationships  (everyone reading these words), sometimes we start sliding down the slope of cynicism. Bitterness creeps in and robs us of every bit of beauty we once saw so easily in this world, in others, in relationships. So how do we stop it? How do we reengage? Is it worth the risk? 

Happiness is not something that just happens to us. It is something we have to be purposeful about. Joy is all around us, but we have to actively tune into it and often, actively choose it. Which is no small feat in this crazy world. It takes an act of courage to begin again. To try again. To feel again. To love again. Courage to hope.

So lets lift our faces up to the rain. Stop running from it all and just let yourself start to feel. Choose a path, and follow it, embracing the decision to rebuild. These are lovely words, but so very difficult in practice. Only the courageous will survive. After all, "Joy is an act of courage."

Always,

~Kristen

Dear Me ~ Drop Keys

Dear Me ~

You have fought valiantly through years of very difficult. You fought to hold on to truth. You fought to hold on to relationships. You fought to believe in redemption. Not just for your story, but others too. During those really dark times, you often wondered if anything could ever make the depth of that pain "worth it." Perhaps you still do not know the answer to that question, but what you do know is that God makes beautiful things out of the dark. You know that you will always remain a warrior, fighting for truth, hope, and for redemption in all of the dark places that so desperately need the light of Hope. You will carry your flame that was forged in fire and you will use it to light the way for others. 

Be brave. You know that you will not be everyone's cup of tea. That is ok. All flowers flourish in different environments. Water those in your care. Honor those who desire to grow in other gardens. Equip your flowers to transplant and grow gardens of their own. This was never about you, anyway. Its always been about them, for them. You are honored to pour out, and in doing so, are filled up, as long as your heart remains tuned to the Audience of One.

Be confident. Speak truth. Drop keys. Help others to unlock their cages and to walk free in their lives. Honor others power, knowing that you can point them in a direction, but they must choose to walk. Give them resources and help them see how they live each day pens their life story. They are the author for as long as God gives them the pen. Choices have consequences, risks can be terrifying, but ultimately, if they want something different, they must choose to do something different. Just as you did.

Lead well, love well, and always remember that grace is a way of living. Live well.

Always,

Kristen