Single Parent Faith

Thursday, May 24, 2012

Connecting with our Kids at any Age

The mother-child relationship is paradoxical and, in a sense, tragic. It requires the most intense love on the mother's side, yet this very love must help the child grow away from the mother and to become fully independent.” – Erich Fromm (German Psychoanalyst 1900-1980)

I always enjoy running across a file in my computer where I’ve documented a moment in the life of my child. Here’s a snapshot of a moment with my daughter at age 11.

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It’s my daily ritual to call my daughter at daycare in the afternoons. It gives us an opportunity to connect and gives her the chance to share anything that’s on her mind prior to me picking her up. Sometimes she tells me, “Mama, I’m not feeling too good,” which is sometimes code for, “I don’t want to go to soccer practice.” Sometimes she’ll tell me, “I just want to go home and snuggle with you.”

Often she’s doing well and wants a friend to come over. Sometimes she lets me know I interrupted something fun and she’ll say,

“Hi Mama! Can I go? I was playing a really fun game!”

“Yes sweety. I just called to tell you I love you.”

“I love you too Mama! Bye!”

During those abrupt moments, I know she’s doing very well because she doesn’t need her mama. She feels secure and steady enough on her own. But just when I think she doesn't need me anymore and I stop calling, she notices. She misses my calls, even if it’s just to act like she doesn’t want to talk to me. Because of this, when she acts disinterested in the conversation, I've learned not to take it personal. Even when they are short and brief, these calls are necessary to her. It is her lifeline to staying connected. She knows I love her because I am maintaining the routine— the routine of the “I love you” call.

You have to know that my daughter has quite the incredible sense of humor and she’s very much in touch with creating joy. Being this way is a blessing to her, as well as a tremendous blessing to me. Having her in my life has connected me to the joyfulness in living. She was born wanting to laugh and smile.

During one recent call to daycare, after the daycare employee transferred my call to her, she answered in a very animated and drawn out tone, “Helloooo! Seeeeexy Maaamaaa!”

We both broke into laughter. With that unexpected greeting, the work stress I was consumed with earlier was immediately washed away with a wave of humor. My daughter’s joy catapulted me into what is essential, what really matters most. It is in these impromptu moments that we find our true nature that is joy.

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She’s older now, our rituals have changed, however, the constant remains— the need to connect. At this stage of her life, and teen demeanor, she is not asking to snuggle with me, though when she resurfaces from her moods, or is having a moment of uncertainty with her boyfriend, she will initiate a connection. It could be a text, a call, or asking me to join her to go work out.

I reflect back to what I learned during her time in daycare, and I remember, the key is not to take her need for separation personally, but rather rejoice that she is secure enough to advance into this evolution of her individuality. As her parent, I can let her know that I am always here and available for her when she wants to connect. No matter the teen tug of moods, I will never give up reaching across to her. I’m the adult, I can defer to her being too busy for me, but it is my job to demonstrate my love is steady and available always.

Ella Venezia

http://flic.kr/p/4RWLHo

Saturday, May 19, 2012

On the Verge of a Breakthrough

“Set your sights on the specific impossible things God wants you to trust him for in your life.” – Steven Furtick (Pastor, Author of “Sun Stand Still”)

Many of us in our 40’s and beyond can find ourselves in a place where the voice of disillusion beats its oppressive drums. It’s an inaudible yet steady thump, thump, thump, beating against our soul, depleting our potential, if we allow it.

We get caught up in the daily routine of responsibilities and life’s worries that form. You ever notice that there are always things to worry about?

Disappointments are the same way. There’s a lifetime of them to pick from, if you so desire. Then don’t forget regret when reflecting on shoulda, woulda, coulda’s. By our 40’s, our minds have typically accumulated a live streaming video of all the missed opportunities and moments we didn’t step up and take the chance. Perhaps we took chances on the things that were destructive and disruptive to our lives.

Worry, disappointment, and all the energy zapping emotions we typically generate without much effort, will only guarantee we’ll further deplete our potential— Strand by strand unraveling the fabric of our hopes and dreams. If we allow ourselves to dwell in sadness for the things we have yet to accomplish, these disappointments can be debilitating. The key is recognizing we can still accomplish these things if we make a course correction.

Do you ever feel like you’ve plateaud? Where you find yourself in a rut? Perhaps you are feeling a restlessness that is prompting you to make a change. I find that unless I am intentional to expose myself to new information, new situations, I stagnate pretty quickly.

When my daughter was young she captured a gecko and stored it in an airtight container. By the next morning, the gecko was dead. Without a way for life-sustaining oxygen to be introduced into the container, its ability to sustain itself on its own resources was insufficient.

Typically, in our current stock of well-meaning friends and relatives, they have come to grow comfortable with the role we’ve played in their lives all this time. Sometimes if we make a change, they are not comfortable with us. After all, they are accustomed to our old ways. Relying only on them will keep us where we’ve been, where we are today. But how about tomorrow? Where do you dream to be?

That’s why it’s imperative to our growth to introduce new material, and new perspectives into our world of the limited familiar. This includes exposing ourselves to people outside of our normal comfortable circle. Look to people whom you admire, people of integrity that you respect. These can be strangers whose behavior you’ve observed. Don’t seek out people who are where you are today. Seek out people who are where you wish to be tomorrow. Seek them out as mentors to contribute to your arsenal of information and who can be your encouragers. We all need people in our lives who have something to say of significance, speak with integrity, and who have the audacity to tell us the truth.

When I’m feeling in a rut, I look to make a shift. I put myself in places where excitement and contagious “audacious” faith are prevalent to expand my world beyond what I am comfortable with.

The church I attend was hosting a conference and in the evenings the sessions were open to the general public. I audibly expressed my commitment (at the time to the guy I was dating): “I'm coming all 3 nights!” He said, “We can ‘try’ to come.” I repeated, “I definitely plan on coming!” I did not care whether I went by myself, but I was going!

The thing is, the only way to get out of a rut is not to hitch my wagon to someone else’s motivation, but rather my own. If we wish to flourish, it can only be done if we commit ourselves to doing it for ourselves. If we wait on another’s timetable, we may never grow because it is always dependent on another's will. At the end of our path in life, we will be alone (even if surrounded by loved ones) in our evaluation as we wonder, did I do my best with what God gave me? Or did I wait on others to do it for me?

To change our circumstances, to dig out of a rut, we have to do something different from our ordinary menu. In my case, I felt I had to embed myself into the powerful surge of uplifting sermons that erupt from such a conference. I just knew that attending three consecutive evenings was going to do something transformational for me. My expectations were surpassed.

The powerfully packed messages energized my spirit and expanded the boundaries of comfortable awareness which I can settle into if not careful. Complacency and comfort can act to encapsulate us and slowly squeeze out the oxygen. We can pass out and not even know it because it happens so gradually. First the sleepiness sets in and then snap, we’re unconscious. Welcome to the unconscious state of most people, busy going through the motions of our lives, even the motions of mechanical prayers.

I recently began reading Steven Furtick’s book, “Sun Stand Still.” Here’s what this 30-somethng year old pastor says about what he calls, “audacious faith”:

“There’s an unquestioning optimism that comes as standard equipment when you’re young. Honestly, I think it’s a gift from God. Time can talk you out of your dreams. Routine can weaken your propensity toward audacity.”

He continues, “Don’t think for a moment that bold vision is reserved for the next generation…audacity does not discriminate on the basis of age or disqualify because of wasted years. No matter how far behind you feel, or how many opportunities you’ve squandered, you can begin to ask God to do the impossible in your life right now.”

To ask God for the impossible, is certainly inviting change into my life. One is never too old or too young to ask God for the impossible.

I feel like I am on the verge of a breakthrough. This happens when it appears like all hell is breaking loose. When trials and challenges come all at once and we wonder, “Really? What more?” We feel restless. We’re feeling at odds with people, circumstances, and our own sense of peace is disrupted. We feel anxious, scared, unsure, and alone. We are being tossed about in the wind, bending to the hurricane winds.

When this happens, rest assured that change is coming. It’s as if these trials act to ready us and make us receptive to introducing something new—Receptive even to God’s presence. When we go through this, it’s as if something inside us is trying to shake us awake to change. Can you feel it?

It’s not supposed to feel safe and tranquil when we are being shaken awake. Often when things are peaceful and flowing smoothly, we just don’t want to rock the hammock. We just want to swing in it. If we’re not careful, years will pass in our slumber of complacency. It isn’t until we are shaken at our core, that we break free from the crust that has settled on us like fine dust accumulates over time.

To experience a robust venue of life, we must be open and invite this shift that is on the verge of happening. Feel the uneasiness, the disruption, and know it for what it is. It is change knocking at our door. To open the door we have to get off the hammock.

"Change is the esence of life. Be willing to surrender what you are for what you could become." — Author Unknown

Ella Venezia

http://flic.kr/p/aDbrUF

Friday, May 18, 2012

Dreams of Distant Travels

“The dream was always running ahead of me. To catch up, to live for a moment in unison with it, that was the miracle.” — Anaïs Nin

Boat Ride at Sundown on the Seine River, Paris, Summer 2004.

My 17-year-old daughter asked me what I was going to write about. The title prompted her to interject, “I dream of the day I no longer have to live at home.”

“I hope your dreams include a career that can make that happen.”

“I’m going to win American Idol,” she said tongue in cheek. Thankfully, it’s not one of her dreams, since her talents lie in other areas.

Dreams act as a beacon, sometimes looming in the far distance, sometimes peeking through clouds at sunset on the Seine River.

When I was a child growing up in Harlem, I dreamt of going away, far away. Not only did I dream living somewhere else, I also dreamt of traveling to other places, like Paris! Who doesn’t dream of Paris?

Paris is so……..Paris!

I can only say that Paris is a place that once you go, you must return. Once is never enough. Never.

I first took my daughter there when she was nine years old. I have a vivid image of her taking her pastels and watercolor kit out on the hotel balcony and sitting there with views of the majestic city as her backdrop. My little Picasso was sketching what she saw.

At one point during our stay she said, “When I grow up I want to live in Paris!”

Dreams.

Back home, on her bedroom wall I placed a poster board and had her write: “DREAMS” at the top. My thought was to give her a place to randomly capture those moments when she’s inspired to dream.

She took it a step further, grabbed hold of extra copies of our photos and taped dozens of these Paris memories on her closet doors. If you were to look around in her bedroom, you’d find a wooden Pinocchio string puppet we brought home from Florence, a colorful 3-D plaque of the Trevi Fountain purchased in Rome, a small crown she insisted she had to have when we visited Neuschwanstein castle in Germany, a ballerina painted by a street artist outside the Mirabell Gardens in Salzburg, and other mementos.

I don’t know if she fully understands or appreciates the opportunities she’s had. Each of these things gathering dust, and seemingly forgotten. When I walk into her room and spot one, I pause. The article takes me back to the moment we were there. I know I’m a sentimental fool. I consider the blessing to have been there. That I was able to share the memory with my daughter, for me, leaves all the more an indelible mark.

I know that one day when my child is grown, and finds herself sharing one of her dreams with her own child, she will stop and take pause—Taking in the blessing.

Schloss Linderhof— View of the Ammergau Mountains, 2006.

I remember when my daughter was eleven, and we were in the gardens of King Ludwig’s Linderhof Palace— very beautiful vast grounds that they are, with breathtaking views. Imagine me, a Harlem kid inhaling the green unspoiled countryside, the luminous blue hues of the sky, the majestic backdrop of the surrounding Ammergau mountains, and looking down to find my daughter’s attention elsewhere. Kneeling down petting a black cat, with exuberance and pure joy on her face, “Look Mamma, he came to me! Can we keep him?”

Schloss Linderhof— Making New Friends, 2006.

Can I begrudge her that? The differences in our age, and the different worlds of our youthful upbringing, explain why my “now” moment was the vistas, and hers was the cat. Beautiful. Reflecting on the memory we can piece together our individual perspectives, to form a wider view of what really was, the day we stood in King Ludwig’s gardens.

As we made our way down hill through the long flowering trellised pathway, with video camera on, I attempted to tape her silly little self walking down the path. She stopped, turned a sideways glance at me, “Mama, you taping me again? All I’m doing is walking!” And to me of course, I saw so much more than that. I saw the cute way she stopped periodically to pick up rocks, bending downward to observe an insect. I heard her little humming, which graduated into exaggerated opera singing, including the hand waving. And of course, I savored her impromptu remarks like, “Mamma, what was it like to live here for King Ludwig? Do you think he liked to run down this path?”

Dreams.

I used to think dreams are the things we long for in some distant future. Now I understand them to include a present moment unfolding—in all its awe and reverence. I imagine if we observe the beauty in these moments, we could see dreams revealed every day before our eyes.

Ella Venezia

This blog post originally appeared as a guest blog post on Kristina Streeter's blog "A Perfect Dose of Life"

Tuesday, May 15, 2012

School Project— Creative French Mischief

“Inspiration does exist, but it must find you working.” – Pablo Picasso

I reflect back to a moment when my daughter was 12 years old, and she was in the unenviable position of being the sole participant in what was to be a “group” project for her French class. They were to write a short skit in French, for the team members to read aloud in class. Her team consisted of only three kids, including herself. She was especially frustrated with the boy on her team because he made it very clear that he did not want to contribute. The other girl was willing, though not very familiar with the language. My daughter has a good ear for language, so she took it upon herself to take charge.

“I have so much to do by tomorrow. And all Herberto said was, “No” to everything I asked him to do. That’s not fair!”

She needed a few moments to catch her breath, then a mischievous smile formed as quickly as her solution took shape.

“Since I’m writing the script, he’ll have to read what I write. Hahaha.”

She dove right into the project without further complaint. Every time she typed his name in the script, she purposely misspelled it: “Scene deu: Hairy Bear Toe (waiter) enters….”

I tried to temper her plan, but she was determined to show him not to burden her with his laziness.

“I know, I’ll only misspell it on his copy!” She chuckled as she continued to weave her mischief into the script.

“He’s not going to know how to pronounce any of this!” she giggled, “But neither will I.”

The following day after school, I asked her how the play went. She smiled, “He never noticed the misspellings and the ‘group’ got an A.”

“You know what? Doing all this work actually helped me learn French more!”

She learned a lot through this, though I’m not sure she learned the life lesson I initially was trying to impart when I discouraged her sneakiness. Granted, her reach toward humor made the injustice of being saddled with a team project, not only bearable, but a creative canvass. Once I let go and just observed how she could transform this moment from victim to victor, I also relinquished to the simplicity of:

“If you obey all the rules, you will miss all the fun.” –Katherine Hepburn

Ella Venezia

http://flic.kr/p/xqN2v

Sunday, May 6, 2012

God's Faithfulness Endures

“My faith is in Jesus, the son of God, the savior of the world. My faith isn’t even in my ability to believe in Jesus, because sometimes I won’t be able to perceive him. Sometimes I won't be able to feel him. Sometimes I will have doubts. But my faith isn’t in any of that. My faith is in his faithfulness.”— Steven Furtick (Pastor of Elevation Church, Charlotte, NC)

While reading “Sun Stand Still,” by Steven Furtick, the words in the quote above grabbed my attention. In particular, the words, “his faithfulness.” Usually when I consider faith, it’s in the context of “my faith.” Which of course ebbs and flows on any given day. I have heard and read about “his faithfulness,” yet it wasn’t until today, reading Furtick’s words, that the concept shook me awake to pay attention.

Sometimes words can be like wallpaper; you may enter the room and not notice its color or pattern. After all, it is in the background. Then one day, you enter the same room with seeking eyes, and the room now appears brightly lit. The former ignored things, come into illumination, as you discover the rich texture and beauty that was always there.

Such for me are the words, “his faithfulness.”

Faithful means firm, lasting, reliable, trustworthy. God is all these things. He is truth, he is constant, he doesn’t cease to exist, nor does his faithfulness cease. We can lean on the Lord because He is faithful to His creation.

I don’t know about you, but sometimes I find that it’s easier to have faith when everything is going my way, birds are chirping and the rainbows are illuminating the skies.

But what then for the rest of life’s moments?

How about when we endure prolonged pain, suffering, loneliness? In these moments our faith is stretched beyond the elastic properties of a rubber band. And in this space of disillusion and unfulfilled hopes and dreams, is usually where I lose it…or at least temporarily misplace my faith.

Could it be that often our faith is conditional, on having our expectations met? After all, scripture states, “Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. – Matthew 7:7

I have thought that if I have strong enough faith, and asked for certain doors to open, that by virtue of my faith, those doors would fly open! But what I find often is that the specific doors I’m asking for, do not so much as crack open. Then I begin to lose heart, lose resolve, lose faith. I question my faith power level. It falls further when I doubt that God is even listening. I begin to beat myself up thinking maybe I don’t have enough faith. As if the number of doors flying open is proportional to my faith level. This erroneous expectation can produce feelings of guilt when I consider I have to meet a faith quota before the Lord will deliver.

The Lord always delivers. It may not be in the shape and color of what we seek, because we don’t typically know what’s best for us. He does. He always provides in the manner that will support our spiritual evolution. This includes allowing trials, because they shape us.

Try as I might, sustainable consistent faith doesn’t appear humanly achievable. That may be why Steven Furtick felt it necessary to write those words, to encourage us through our struggle. And it must also be why God inspired these words in scripture:

“If we are faithless,

He will remain faithful,

For he cannot disown himself.” — 2 Timothy 2:13

He cannot disown himself. I love those words. He cannot act in contradiction to himself, or to the power of who He is. He is firm, unyielding, and consistent in His faithfulness. It is against His nature to be anything but constant. So His faithfulness toward us is independent of our faithfulness toward Him.

As God, He yields a supernatural level of faithfulness. If He did not, and if He were an inconsistent force, the universe would cease to exist. He demonstrates His faithfulness (lasting, reliable) in the universal laws which remain in existence since the beginning of time. I doubt man has yet discovered all the laws that govern the universe, in the infinite nature that is His Creation. These laws reveal the irrefutable faithful nature of the universe, of God. The late Richard Fyman, a Nobel Prize Physicist, said of the mathematical laws that describe the universe, "Why nature is mathematical is a mystery...The fact that there are rules at all is a kind of miracle.” (http://www.everystudent.com/features/isthere.html)

He will remain faithful instills in me the confidence, that when I am feeling weak, God’s faithfulness stands firm. I can lean on His faithfulness and trust His will. He doesn’t want us to carry guilt for our human condition: the struggle with our faithfulness. Instead, much as He loves us unconditionally, His faithfulness is unconditional. We are His Beloved. He does not require of His Beloved Creation to earn what is already ours through Grace.

Ella Venezia

Divine Appointments— How God Reveals His Love for Us

“Give yourself fully to God. He will use you to accomplish great things on the condition that you believe much more in His love than in your weakness. “— Mother Teresa

How often in our doubtful minds we question how God can use us for His purpose when we may not feel strong enough, or faithful enough.

What is His purpose? If he’s God surely His purpose is magnanimous. Maybe we don’t feel we are strong enough for magnanimous duties? Maybe we do not feel good enough, or spiritually developed enough to be used for His plan?

But he uses every one of us, every day. He uses us exactly where we are. We do not have to be monks or people who spend most of our day on our knees. In fact, I believe you may actually question God’s existence, and He will still use you for the good of humanity.

Each of us has unique qualities and life circumstances that can be God’s portal to delivering reassurance, hope, peace, and love to others.

Say

It was some time ago when I saw the movie “The Bucket List.” I recently heard the movie’s theme song, “Say,” written and sung by John Mayer. I listened closely again to the lyrics, as few of them as they are, and find their simplicity compelling.

You can heal a lifetime of pain and regret, by one word, “say.” How many of us have something we have left unsaid? I’m not talking about the ”I ought to give you a piece of my mind!” kind of “say.” I am, however, referring to the words we will regret not saying if the person passes away with us never having expressed our feelings. Second chances are guaranteed to no one.

What keeps us from saying them?