Living Our Truth

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We shouldn’t criticize those who are brave enough to live their truth. It is never easy to do what we feel is right in our hearts knowing that people will have opinions, usually based out of fear, that oppose our own truth.

But conversely, we speakers of our truth cannot expect the world to always be on board with us. Sure, we feel passionate about our point of view, but others feel just as passionate about their own. It is easy to feel attacked when this happens, but we MUST remove our ego from the situation and remember, if we are living our truth based on love we have nothing to fear and no one else’s fear can diminish our truth. Some people are stuck in a world where they view everything with goggles tinted by fear and anxiety. That is what they believe right now. All I can do is pray that someday, they will be able to take off the goggles and see that the real world is not one to be feared. The world is full of love and possibilities and kindness.

I read once that the opposite of love isn’t hate, it’s fear. Hate is an emotion that stems from fear. So fear can make people do hateful things. Every war, every argument, every crime ever committed, happened because someone was afraid and made other people afraid. But look at a child, whose innocence isn’t yet affected by the fear in the world. We aren’t born knowing fear. It’s something we learn from our parents, our peers, and our society. We learn fear and we teach fear. We think we are teaching people to be cautious and to protect themselves. It doesn’t mean we should go around hugging people armed with guns. There obviously are dangerous people in the world; what’s done is done in many ways where people have allowed themselves to let their fear lead them; we can’t erase the fear that exists. But we also can’t live each day crippled by what could happen.

When I started my blog two years ago, I was a very anxious person. I still struggle with it at times. But I woke up one day and realized, I could go on living half a life, questioning every motive of other people and saying “no” more than allowing new experiences to awaken parts of my brain that have been sleeping my whole life. Or I could start living a life ruled by love, one where I’m not afraid to let life happen to me. We invite some suffering and pain when we do this, but those things are nothing to be afraid of. Life’s obstacles are opportunities to help us grow into the people we were always meant to be.

But what do we do when someone hurts us? How can we keep believing that the world is a place filled with love and joy? Of course we will be afraid of being burned again. We are human beings, not idiots. Most of us have experienced a time where someone has injured us to our core. The sin committed was one that we just aren’t sure we will ever be able to get past. So we have two choices. We can go into defense mode. We can shut down and lock the person out of our lives forever. We can tell others how awful the person is and warn them against having a relationship with them as well; spare other people the hurt we’ve experienced.

The other choice is the one that every spiritual messenger has recommended. I tend to think that they might be slightly more credible in such matters…They say to forgive.

Forgiveness is our best weapon against pain and suffering. If Love is our shield against fear, Forgiveness is our sword against hate. I suppose this doesn’t mean we need to keep exposing ourselves to people who hurt us over and over. But it doesn’t mean that we harbor animosity toward them either. All those negative emotions will erode our truth, our love. And we should never go into battle with a rusted shield and sword.

So today, just once, I beg you to consciously choose love and to forgive. Live that truth. I am finding it leads to so many more beautiful things: Patience with my children, gratitude for my life which is so abundantly blessed even though it’s not perfect. It brings me to tears every time I let that light of love flow into me. The other things, the worry, the anxiety, the fear all evaporate and all that’s left is this beautiful ocean of love.

We are told God says, “Do not be afraid, I am with you.” (Isaiah 41:10) Even if you don’t believe in God, believe in Love. It’s really the same thing.

Let the Punishment Fit the Crime

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Seeing my children’s hopes and dreams crushed usually makes me feel similarly crestfallen. But not today, dear friends. You see, I have been telling my boys for the past week to go up to their bedroom and pick up all Lego pieces that have fallen to the floor and become embedded in the carpet. I don’t know how many of you have endured the experience of stepping on Lego shrapnel, but let me tell you, the pain is similar to hearing my total amount due at the Lego store when I take my boys twice a year to purchase more Lego sets for their birthdays.

Now imagine a Lego minefield, an entire bedroom of Lego blocks scattered across the floor. My children have caused splits in my heel from stepping on these tiny landmines. Today, I had reached my limit. I sent them upstairs to their room where they were instructed in no uncertain terms they were not to leave their bedroom until all of the blocks had been safely stowed away in their plastic bins. A while later they came down for lunch. I asked them if they had cleaned up and they assured me that they had (poor fools). When I went upstairs to check their efforts, I was not surprised to find not only were the Lego pieces still scattered around the room, they appeared to be leaking out into the hallway.

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The terrifying guest bedroom closet…

Sometimes, punishment is poetically inspired.  Being mean is an art form for an inspired mother. And sometimes, I revel in making my children suffer, just a little, for making poor choices.

I decided to “help” my children learn a very important lesson; to take care of their belongings. Not saying a word to their lazy little bums parked downstairs on the couch enjoying some quiet time, I scooped up all of their Lego blocks. I gently closed them into their bins and I took all of the bins to a closet in the guest bedroom that they are terrified of. Sigh. They will never look there. Victory will be mine as long as I want. It was a thing of beauty as I turned out the light and closed the door softly behind me. They still haven’t discovered the horrible truth awaiting them in their bedroom. Their screams will be sweet music to my ears.

Oh boys, just kick back and relax. Mommy's going to take care of everything...Muhahaha!

Oh boys, just kick back and relax. Mommy’s going to take care of everything…Muhahaha!

Children are Our Real Teachers

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My nerves were raw from trying to hold my tongue and not turn into a hollering banshee at my sweet children yodeling and smacking each other in the back seat. We had made it through the grocery store with little incident and now were nearly home, but already I could feel my shoulders tensing, anticipating the boys rushing in the house without helping to carry in any bags and then leaving their shoes in the middle of the laundry room floor for me to trip over while I hauled in our food and their little sister.

To top it all off, there would be no down time today because immediately after unpacking groceries, making their lunches and then feeding them, I would need to go out to the pool to take the cover off and skim the surface for any debris because we were hosting a short pool play date for some neighbor friends. Thankfully, the children are well-behaved and their mom and I enjoy each others company. But we really don’t get to have an entire conversation because the pool play dates require constant supervision and are interrupted every two minutes by a “Mom! Look at me!” or “Mom, Noah is splashing me,” all the while getting annoyed that we can’t finish a sentence before someone needs something else.

In other words, I was already fast-forwarding to how stressed out I was about to be. I was shaken from my inner movie trailer of “The Life of Mom” when Noah piped up from the back seat, “Mom, can you drop me here and let me walk the rest of the way home?” We were about five houses away from ours and when I glanced back at his little upturned, missing-toothed face in my rear-view mirror, I couldn’t help but smile.

“Sure.” I said and pulled off to the side, my prior anxiety melting into nothing.

“Thanks, Mom.” He said throwing on his little back pack filled with action figures and other toys he’d deemed worthy of today’s adventures. He also thrust his pirate sword through his belt loop then jumped out of the car. I reminded him to be careful and watch for cars.

“Ok, Mom. Bye, Mom!” His voice was that husky little boy voice that I can remember my brother Kevin using when he was about Noah’s age. It’s the little boy equivalent of a man’s voice when they are embarking on some uncharted territory and they don’t want anyone thinking them incapable, especially not their mothers. He waved as I slowly pulled forward. “See you soon, Mom,” he called after me. I had to laugh. Yes, I would be seeing him in about forty-five seconds.

I watched him from my mirror, his plastic sword swung from his hip and he held the straps of his backpack looking out over the neighborhood with a stoic squint of his eyes. I love watching my children grow up. It’s these little things that mark the changing of times for me and also let me know that in spite of my many mistakes, these kids are growing into exactly who they are meant to be.

A friend of mine is about to become a father and told me recently that he’s nervous. He’s scared of somehow being inadequate for his son’s needs and screwing up his life horribly. I reassured him with the usual “it would be fine and he would be a great father” speech. I knew those words would probably seem hollow to him though. They were to me too, when people said them before my kids were born. So of course his response was, “Isn’t that what you have to say? Isn’t that what everyone just says to make you feel better? I’m not naive. I hear parents complaining all the time about how hard parenthood is. And some parents genuinely don’t seem to enjoy it.”

So I went on to tell him the few absolute truths of parenting that we all come to understand, even those who make it no secret that they don’t love every minute of it.

“Everyone tries to scare new parents by saying things like, ‘Oh it’s only just begun…You have no idea how much your life is about to change.’ And it is kind of true, but you already know that. The best way to keep your wits about you is to wake up each day and to not have any real expectations of how your day is going to go. Then you won’t be disappointed when half of your to-do list doesn’t happen. That’s the hard part.

“The good part, the fun stuff, is what no one bothers trying to tell you because it’s virtually impossible to explain. But I’ll try. No one mentions this stuff because not only does it sound sappy, but you sound like a lunatic if you try to express these really tender, quiet, broken-down moments that you’ll find define all of it for you. All of the struggle, frustration, and disappointment seems quite small by comparison to these moments. And they’re not anything that will make your life easier or more convenient. They won’t help you get anything done. In fact, you might get further off track by basking in the glow of these times when they occur. They’ll just make your struggles a little easier to take. But the cool thing is, they’re only yours; not something you can articulate to anyone else. It’s an indescribable experience.  So although no one can prepare you for how difficult parenthood will be, no one can prepare you for how great it will be either. And here’s the real miracle of it: they are going to teach you more than you will ever teach them.”

He seemed satisfied with this response, but I know he won’t really get it until he gets it. The first seemingly insignificant moment that contained worlds of significance for me personally was when Noah was about a week old.

I was delirious with sleep deprivation. I’d never known I could feel so tired to the bone. Scott had just finished getting dressed for work looking polished and capable in his tailored suit. By comparison, I hadn’t showered in at least two days and my hair was in a messy bun on my head and I had awful morning breath. He brought Noah to our bed on his little Boppy pillow for me to nurse him. After he kissed my forehead and walked out our bedroom door, I waited to hear the garage door close then I quietly shook with sobs.  I felt so alone and didn’t know what I was going to do with this innocent, helpless little ball of flesh and hair. Each time I opened my eyes through my tears, I would feel smaller and more helpless.

Suddenly, Noah’s grumpy old man face turned upward and he pulled his little legs up to his tummy and arched his back looking like a little round-backed turtle and made the funniest, squeaky grunt I’d ever heard. It made me smile through my tears and I scooped him up and covered him with kisses thanking him for making me laugh. I knew, at least for that minute, I wasn’t so alone.

I do believe my children have brought infinite wisdom, true beauty and deep meaning to my life. I would never say that my life is easier with them in it. But I didn’t know how deeply I could love anyone until I met them either.

It’s not always the big trips to Disney or the elaborate birthday parties that will take your breath away and make you think, “This is what it’s all about.” Sure, those things are fun and prove to them you’re a cool mom or dad. But the things that will stick with you are those really simple, sweet memories that completely humble you and make you feel something indescribable. It’s in these moments that we learn something about ourselves. We’re stronger than we realize. We’re able to love in infinite ways. I will be forever grateful to my kids for teaching me who I was meant to be.

The best teachers I've ever had. (Luke, Grace and Noah)

The best teachers I’ve ever had. (Luke, Grace and Noah)

Inspiration from New Directions

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Hello friends!

As I mentioned before, I am starting a new project. I have been writing something every day for the past month. Finding time to do it was the challenge before, but I’ve realized it has to be before the kids are awake and at times, even before I am fully awake. Thoughts are more lucid then anyway. So, I wake up at 6:00 a.m. and free-write for as long as I can until someone is asking for breakfast. Letting thoughts pour out into an old-school notebook with a ball-point pen feels very organic and I believe is how I should have been attempting to capture this beast of inspiration for a while. But tripping over yourself is part of the journey to success, isn’t it?

Some of my musings make sense and some are complete gibberish depending on my level of consciousness at that hour. But I am very excited to share some of it with you when something magical happens between my brain and the tip of my pen. My first piece I’d like to share is a short poem I wrote for Gracie. She was up crying early this morning from a bad dream. So I rocked her back to sleep and my heart felt so full it could burst. Instead I let it overflow onto the paper.

Watching Gracie Sleeping

Your soft face glows pink with dawn
peeking through the curtains.
Stars slip back into the ground.
I hold my breath as your radiance breaks my heart
for the millionth time.

-Christine Torosian July 10, 2015

Have a blessed weekend, everyone!

This wasn't today, but look at this angel. I love how babies allow themselves to be so vulnerable when they're asleep. What if everyone could be so trusting?

This wasn’t today, but look at this angel. I love how babies allow themselves to be so vulnerable when they’re asleep. What if everyone could be so trusting?