The Boys of Summer

Last summer I endeavored to empty our storage unit. The time had come to be done with it. The plans we had for life weren't going to happen.

Besides, I knew it was time to get in sync with reality.

Originally the storage unit was planned to be a temporary holding place for the stuff that would fill our future home. We thought it would take 6 months or so. Dad told us to plan on a year because he's been around the block.

Last summer marked Year 3. There is something about the number three. Awaking one morning last March with the understanding that waiting for a future that would never arrive was doing nothing but holding us back, I knew that something had to be done.

Letting go of the storage unit meant letting go of the future we thought we planned on living.

Dreams are essential, and that's what our storgage unit had represented when we made the move.

As we packed our home we took comfort that our belongings would be close. We also imagined what our future would look like with our things inside of a home that we chose.

As fun as the idea of our home was it began to hold us back. The storage unit, with all of our memories packed away inside it, became more like a tomb. Every time we visited we were reminded of how things had been.

Here's the thing about dreams: as long as they're keeping you afloat they're beneficial. The minute those imaginations begin to pull you under, choking out new dreams, they've become harmful.

So that spring morning last year, I woke up knowing this new thing: God had better things for us that we could imagine. Letting go wasn't giving up; it was giving into the goodness that we already had.

I also knew that Lee would not be able to help.

Part of the reason is the hernia final of three hernias that needs repairing, part of the reason is because he wants to keep everything he has ever touched. Seriously, he's sentimental over pens.

Part of the reason Lee would be of no help is the pain was very, very great.

I knew it would be up to me.

This is not a dig at my husband, either. That's part of being in a marriage. You do hard things for each other. In our marriage he cleans up puke and poop from animal OR human. This is important. The storage unit was way easier for me than either of those situations.

Watching Spencer play in our backyard with some of his pals one evening I struck gold. I had a workforce in our backyard that would work for food!

Over a six week period my fourteen year old son and three of his friends, or sometimes only one or two, helped unload our storage unit. We sorted boxes and carted truckloads to Goodwill. They carried Lee's 3,000 boxes of books to the basement.

Those boys were the best.

I paid them in food and trips to the bookstore.

It was a sweet time, in between jobs and school and sports. They didn't mind if I got sour. They definitely didn't mind when I got silly. Those boys were so easy to be with.

They had no idea that they were helping to walk our whole family to new dream. It literally wouldn't have happened without them, because it's not a job I could do alone.

I remember loading that last box onto Dad's truck and closing the storage unit door. It felt right and good. I didn't feel sad. Instead I felt light. Very, very light.

As the boys wrestled over shot gun I thought about how far we'd come. We moved here with nothing. We had no friends, and we each felt pretty hopeless for various and sundry reasons.

Now, three years later our lives were full of people and fun times. Our life we'd had in ministry felt eons away. Where we were living, physically and mentally, felt good.

The life we were living felt better without the weight of what could have been resting on our shoulders.

Shifting was needed and emptying the storage unit turned into a pretty great operative metaphor for embracing where we were.

Suddenly & wondrously I found myself dreaming again and releasing what my past self had wanted. I know that this will be a constant in life, and it always has been. Some castles in the air will prove more difficult to free and I'm okay with that, too.

Be brave, misfits. Allow one dream to drift away to make room for another.

Trust

A few months ago Liam asked if he could walk to the park by himself.

My other kids all had each other so it was never an issue for me. Plus, we lived in parsonage houses that conveniently had a church playground on the same property. Allowing them to venture out wasn't issue for me because they were together.

Our #4 is quite the independent young man, though.

This fact lets me know that we're doing something right. Especially because this hasn't always been the case.

Well, Liam has always been indepdent. But he has not always been happy to be away from us.

His first day at a new homeschool co-op, in a new town, too, showed us that he was more anxious than we knew. As I walked him to class, we chatted about what the plan for the day was. Looking at his little four-year old face I saw how pale his lips were for the first time.

"Liam, what's wrong?" I asked. "Are you sick?"

"I can't go." was all he could say.

So I stayed with him until he was comfortable, because that's how we roll.

Kids with learning disabilities are far more likely to have anxiety and related issues. I also learned in counseling that how I respond to my kids' anxiety has a role in how they respond to their anxiety.

It's tricky.

Dealing with anxiety myself, it's instinctual to want protect them from the unease. I want to do the thing that will decrease feelings that make them feel terrible. I also know that allowing them to avoid the thing that causes anxiety only makes anxiety worse.

I told you it's tricky.

When Liam expressed interest in venturing out on his own I knew that my response was critical. Making him feel incapable or nervous about the world around him is no good.

So we began practicing.

The great beyond, aka, our sidewalk.

As we took our daily walks he got to cross the street and walk on the other side. Then we practiced him crossing on his own. Then he went around the block without me.

This may sound extreme but Liam isn't always great at thinking through consequences. Some would even use the world impulsive to describe his behavior. That would be accurate.

Combatting anxiousness always involves being very, very uncomfortable. Now that we've been through it for so long it's easier to talk through.

It's not easier to go through, though.

The truth is I would always be happier with them staying home with me. By happier I mean less anxious.

Just like I cannot allow my kids' jitters to drive their decisions, I cannot allow mine to boss me around, either. Like I said, the way through is uncomfortable.

At Easter Liam received a bike from my parents. Dad and Erik put it together in the garage. Liam seemed mildly uninterested and I worried money had been spent for nought.

I was so wrong.

Liam's first solo trip around the block gave him wings. I could see it from the grin on his face. His beautiful beaming face reminded me of my own bike riding days in this very neighborhood.

We're going to have to learn to trust each other in a new way, this boy and me.

He has to trust that I trust him, while I have to trust that he's ready for this newfound independence. Because I think independence is vital.

Years and years ago I read a book that deeply affected my parenting. The Gift of Fear, by Gavin de Becker, highlighted how unwarranted fear can actually put us in more danger. de Becker's book taught me to respect my instincts and to teach my kids to do the same.

One of the exercises he recommended is taking your kids somewhere, say the library, and having them ask a stranger for the time. That's it. Then they come back and tell you how it went. Ask them how they felt, if they thought the person was safe.

This type of task helps children become familiar with their instincts. They learn to trust themselves.

Anxiety can color the whole world dangerous.

That's why it's been so important to me to teach the kids to trust their instincts. Their real instincts, not the fight or flight stuff their bodies throw off.

Honestly, it's one of the things I'm most proud of.

Their appreciation for 70's rock is high up on my list of parental achievements, too.

'This is my everyday smile, Mom," when I asked him to show some teeth. This kid. :)

My kid has made friends with a few neighbors. This feels so right to me. I can tell it feels right to Liam, too.

He gets to tell me about their house and how things work there. Learning about other family cultures is so valuable but you're not in on that secret as a kid. It's just fun to be in a new house.

But also, it's good for him to experience something new away from our family.

There have been bike wrecks involving bloody knees, rides up to the Dollar Store with his big brother, and some miscommunication about how many minutes an hour is.

We're all learning about trust. Liam is gaining our confidence and we've gained more of his. Our family is also gaining assurance in our community, which is always healthy.

Where are you learning to trust, to gain confidence? Perhaps it's inside yourself, perhaps it's like me right now and is in the outside world. I'd love to hear about it.

Be brave! Take a chance on trust, misfits. You might find your bike-riding grin.