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Single Parent Faith

Showing posts with label Patience. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Patience. Show all posts

Saturday, October 27, 2012

Dreamers—Honor the Season not the Timeline


“Fear will tell you that you’re in this season forever.” – Jon Acuff, The 2012 Quitter Conference
 
Sometimes I feel guilt for not having fully executed on my dream. Clearly there are times when it seems that life itself is getting in the way. Is that an excuse?

Thursday, August 9, 2012

High School Graduation Day



“The love of a mother is the veil of a softer light between the heart and the heavenly Father.” –Samuel Taylor Coleridge


In early June my daughter graduated high school. When that day arrived, it did so as if it snuck up on me. In the moment of the day-to-day life of raising a child, time seems to stand still. But then, in the surreal moment that is graduation day, it appears as if that day approached in a flash.

In the blink of an eye, I went from walking her into her first day of kindergarten, to shouting out her name in a crowd of over 800 graduating seniors. In the distance I watched her hugging friends and smiling for photos. This is the very baby I brought home from the hospital, without the slightest understanding of what it would really take to raise her. Nor that compounding this challenge I would one day face raising her as a single parent. I had no idea of the many things I would have to learn along the way. And the things I have still ahead of me to learn as a parent who walks through stages of my own development, in parallel with my teen.

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.”

Monday, June 13, 2011

Dating Service- Through the Eyes of a Child and Single Mom, Part 1

“To bring up a child in the way he should go, travel that way yourself.” —Josh Billings
  


During the timeframe when I was trying out the dating service that I wrote about in Stint With Dating Service, my daughter was 11 years old.  I decided to use a couple of my dates as an opportunity to demonstrate what healthy dating is, with boundaries and awareness.

© All rights reserved by Passive Income Dream.com

First, let me say that my rule is that I only date when she is away visiting her father. I don’t get a baby sitter just for me to go out on a date.  I want to minimize disruptions of her routine and I don’t want to introduce feelings of insecurity— where she feels second to a stranger in my life. She needs to always know she is first. Additionally, since most of these first dates never turn into second, had I taken precious time away from my daughter, I would have regretted it. I don’t want to date at her expense, or even at the expense of me missing out on precious moments with her.

Monday, May 30, 2011

Silent Treatment— Teen Moments




I’m getting the silent treatment again. I am referring to my fifteen year old daughter. Need I say more?

No matter how much time I spent attending to her needs as a baby, time I took off of work to attend her events at school, science projects I guided her through, soccer games I drove her to, talks we’ve had, I don’t get to bypass the alien stage.

There are moments when she’s my sweet girl most familiar to me, and moments where out of nowhere she’s giving me the cold shoulder. I once heard an educator refer to these teen years analogous to having ones child abducted by aliens. Truthfully, when he said that, I thought he was out of his gourd.

I thought, Hmm, maybe he doesn’t have my kid, or maybe he just isn’t as fortunate to have the close relationship my daughter and I have.

This judgment that I passed was of course based on my daughter not yet having entered this teen phase. Ah, ignorance is bliss. Now, I’m convinced they planted a chip in her, designed to test my faculties, my patience, and my sense of humor.

The thing about motherhood is not only the obvious missing manual, but also that as my child grows, so do I.  This is the stress and the joy of it. Of course being a single mom adds to the stress of it.

During these moments where her hormones are playing ping-pong, I try to remember that this is only a moment in time, and moments are fleeting. Nothing highlights this more than recently while cleaning out a doll basket, I found her bathing suit from when she was 3 years old. I lifted it up by my fingertips, trying to imagine the moment when she fit into it. It seemed like yesterday.

Wasn’t it yesterday when she kissed my cheek leaving behind the sticky trace of peanut butter? Wasn’t it just last week when she was four years old, and she asked me to lift her up so she could look into her day care cubby? She reached in with her rubber band wrists, pulling out something very special she picked up for me while on the playground. 

Copyright © 2011 Ella Venezia.
All Rights Reserved.
She sweetly said, “Take this to work with you Mamma, so when you miss me you can look at it and think of me.” Her tiny precious hand in mine, she unveiled a whole, unopened pecan shell.  

A few weeks earlier when she had a tough time at daycare with separation in the mornings as I dropped her off, I gave her a locket with a picture of me on one side and her dad on the other. The intent was for her to look at it when she missed us. She smiled and loved looking into it often. She wore it every day until she was ready to shed it.

Now fifteen, one day soon, I know she will be ready to shed another layer of her childhood, another stage, and she will one day become a grown woman. When I look back to this moment, I wont remember me asking, “What’s wrong?” and her pat answer, “Nothing.” Instead, I’ll recall the greatest ride of my life: Motherhood.

She is God’s blessing for my life, so that I can know what it is to love another, unconditionally.  No matter what the moment she’s in, sweet or alien, I have come to know that the good and the bad are here to make us better parents— better human beings. To guide a child through their anger, through their fears, through their selfishness, forces us to see a reflection of ourselves. Forces us to learn ways to still reach them through their difficult moments (and as a consequence, our difficult moments).

Like the shelled pecan, kids can go into their shells and need to know we are still there for them despite this act of alienation. It’s never personal. It’s about what’s happening inside their world, which often is more confusing to them than to us. I extend to her the life line, “When you’re ready to talk about it, I’m here, wanting to listen.”
Ella Venezia
Copyright © 2011 Ella Venezia. All Rights Reserved.
Extracted from my older writing archives—Younger reflections of my child. 



Title Image Source: © All rights reserved by liveitupwithus


Wednesday, March 5, 2008

Making Memories

With the onset of the hustle and bustle of every day life, it is so easy to get caught up in the busy-ness of our lives and lose sight of having fun. Sometimes we are too busy rushing to stop for a moment and observe, or soak in the moment. The other morning my daughter and I were running late, as is usually the case around our home during the weekdays. I was very uptight and kept prodding her to focus on doing only what was necessary to get out of the house.

After finishing breakfast she began to get her children’s gummy bear vitamins out of their container. I told her that since we were running late she would have to take them on our way to school, rather than stand there chewing one vitamin at a time. There were about 6 to chew. When you are running late, even the anticipation of waiting for a child’s every chomp, knashing each individual gushy gummy bear, appears like an eternity rather than seconds. She agreed to take them with her. Then she reached for a paper towel, and retrieved a magic marker and proceeded to write in large letters, on the towel. Each letter appeared to be formed with such intent, that I could feel the clock ticking. Okay, so I was feeling very impatient.

At this point I’m thinking, “We are already late! This is way too much! This kid needs to learn time management!” Just then, I couldn’t take it anymore and was about to blurt out something like “ I thought I told you that we are running late. We don’t have time to...” When, my eyes, following her concentrated hand movements, were forced to see what was really going on here. This wonderful child of mine was writing: “Vitamins. Take after breakfast.” As I stared at her, I couldn’t help but smile when I realized that she was doing something so very much like what my dad would do. He lives over 2,000 miles away in NYC. Remarkably she's not around her grand-pa enough to have picked up on this by observation. It was heartwarming and at the same time humorous to see my Dad’s genes coming out in her. He is very much one to write instructions to himself. I continued to smile as I realized further that my older sister is the same way about writing down instructions.

I continued to observe, as my daughter carefully positioned her vitamins in a row on the paper, as she asked me “Did you take your calcium pills yet?” I sheepishly admitted “No, not yet.” She responded with excitement: “I know! Every morning I can put your calcium pills and my vitamins on this paper towel so we won’t forget to take them!” “What a great idea!” I exclaimed with a smile. The kind of smile that originates from deep within the heart, when one realizes something very pure and loving about the miraculous moment one is in the midst of observing. This very scene could have so easily turned out differently, had I continued in my stressful rush and impatient inner dialogue. Yes we were late. Yes, that is certainly a fact. But what a waste of a beautiful moment, had I, obsessing over that fact, not allowed myself to see what was in front of me. I had a window before me, allowing me to learn something new about my 9 year old. I would have missed it entirely had I allowed the curtains of impatience to blind me. This would have stopped her dead in her tracks before she had a chance to display her concern and care for me.

In this moment I saw how thoughtful and sweet my child is. How organized and detailed she is. How methodical and instructionally oriented she is. How she did listen to me when I told her to take her vitamins after breakfast. Had I lost my patience, I would not have allowed her to complete playing out this moment. In this moment, we both created a memory and I was there to soak it all in. Only with a peaceful countenance could I have allowed this moment to play out uninterrupted. Giving her the chance to be herself, and me the chance to observe this morsel of a memorable moment. I won’t forget how she looked as she concentrated while writing on the napkin, without knowing that I was watching her, with loving eyes soaking her in.

Memories are simple moments observed. Memories don’t have to be super fantastic, Fourth of July displays of action-filled momentum. Those are very memorable too. But face it; you can’t have these every day. But quiet observances are like little miracles you can have available to you throughout the day. A sprinkling of smile generating, heart-warming moments consistently accompanying us every day, are only ours if we are willing to soak these moments in. If we stop to be present to what’s already unfolding before us.

Sometimes memories, like this one, are created during moments of spontaneity. But also, memories can be made by taking some time to plan something special. In either case, it takes intentionality to put it into motion. We need to be more intentional with making memories. Life is too beautiful, and short, to allow it to slip out of our grasp. If we live our lives with intention, we don’t let life slip by us. We are present to the “moments” of this very special life, granted to us.

Often I’ve heard it said, "Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, but today is a present." We should see every day as a present granted to us; not to be taken for granted. But rather to be lived as intentionally as possible, to get the most out of it. Being present to your present, is the miracle you can witness on a daily basis. Because in the unfolding of the moment, the blessing will arrive.

Have you ever seen a child eat an icicle stick, the frozen flavored ice in a long rectangular plastic wrapper? Every pass of their tongue over that icicle is a celebration of the taste buds. They smile as they soak in the flavor. When they get to the very bottom of the wrapper, and you think the entire frozen icicle is gone, they are still actively slurping, looking for the very last drop of the sweet juice. They don’t give up easily. They keep licking until it is all licked dry. The delight on their face is apparent, long after the icicle is gone. They enjoyed every moment of that icicle stick. They were intentional in every lick. Every lick had purpose; the purpose of savoring the icicle. They don’t slam it down, leaving no trace of memory or flavor. Long after finishing it, they have clear evidence on their face, that they had an icicle and enjoyed it, to boot! Such is the way we should be with living our lives. Moments with our loved ones, with our friends, or new people coming into our lives, should be greeted with great intent and savoring, lest they be gone and we have no trace of having shared a memory.

The life which we are given, is like a gift that we unwrap day by day, discovering within every day, a seed, spurning us on to grow, and learn something new that will help evolve us into what God intends us to be. Part of that intention is gratitude for the gifts we receive. Gratitude for the memories we intentionally set about to create. What better gratitude than to honor and appreciate each moment we are gifted the opportunity to live. Why not be focused and present to the moment, so we can create a memory that lasts a lifetime?

This memory happened for me some 5 years ago. I remember it as if it were yesterday. Firstly because I wrote it down (in my journal), but also because I took the time to observe and allow this instant to become a memory I treasure. Let’s be more like children and savor the present moment. By doing so we preserve these moments into memories. Here’s to making a lifetime of memories, one moment at a time!