Happy to help

It is my husband’s 63rd birthday. Family is gathered and our granddaughter Elin asks if she can help put the candles on the cake.

Elin, ‘can I help you put the candles in the cake?’
Me, ‘yes, you can place them anywhere you want.’

It is her next response that prompts this writing.
Elin, ‘Grandma, you are happy to let me help.’

As one of her primary caregivers her first year, Elin and I created many conversation patterns. One of which was the following,

Elin, ‘Grandma, can you help me?’ To which I would respond, ‘I’m happy to help you.’

In the conversation re the birthday candles, Elin was reminding me of our pattern, our way of relating to each other. Which started me thinking.

As a counselor, I am privilege to many conversations between partners, that, in some ways, are very similar to the one Elin and I shared. One partner reminding the other partner, ‘don’t you remember? This is what we said we would do.’ And sometimes the partner responds with ‘right, forgot.’ And sometimes the partner is silent, as they no longer wish to continue the pattern, the expectations, the commitment.

‘It can get better.’ A client recently started a session with that phrase. ‘You offered us that phrase last session, and I realized I had not heard anybody say that marriage could get better in a long time.’ Conversations that remind us of our first intentions, calling us to renew our commitments with authentic love can be moments of transition.

From This is difficult, I don’t like who I’ve (We’ve) become, to
This is difficult, and I remember who I am (who you are, who we are),

        someone committed to our continued conversations, 

        our continued pursuit of helping each other, 

        and our continued call to be our best selves.

As the birthday dinner ended, family members are saying goodbye, Elin brings her shoes over to my chair.

Elin, ‘Grandma, can you help me with my shoes?’
Me, ‘I’m happy to help.’

May you respond to reminders with grace, to renewed calls for authentic love with a resounding, ‘yes.’

Remembering.

Some of you may recognize what the elements in the picture are and what they represent for participants. I am visiting my parents this week, my stay includes a Sunday, and on Sunday, my parents pray. 

They pray, 
they read the Bible 
and they take communion.

They do all of these things at their home now instead of participating in a larger faith community.

My father thought they (the faith community) were marketing the message through a lens of humor. And while my dad has been known to create an entire sermon point around a new funny story he wanted to tell, at this point in his life, he wants a plain and simple message.

Not in a watered down, or less intelligent discussion, but one that is honest. Today's message is, 'love each other like your brother or sister.' Asking for thoughts or comments, my mother, ever the pragmatic one, says: 'that makes some assumptions about your brothers and sisters! What if you don't like them for very good reasons?' As Mom and I laugh, Dad attempts to regain the moment of reflection he had created. 

It's gone.

Mom shares a smile with me, Dad tells the same story he told 5 minutes ago, followed by Mom saying, 'Are you going to dismiss us?' Dad teases her, 'you do it.' Don't ever tell my mother to do something that she wants to do if you do not want an immediate response. Before I can look back to Mom, she has dismissed us and the conversation turns to where we are going for lunch.

But a couple of thoughts and experiences stay with me. While no longer a participant in their faith community, I respect the decision to create behaviors, patterns, and rituals that remind them of the values they hold to be true. All shaped through the lens of their 67-year-old marriage.

I also think about holding up family relationships as a lens for healthy, wholesome and perhaps holy relationships. The relationships that are the daily, in the moment, opportunities to demonstrate integrity, grace, and forgiveness. The relationships that challenge us to be authentic to ourselves and others, because they know the stories of your early childhood and the stories you never told your parents. (still not telling!)

For me, this is the plain and simple message today:
love self and others in a way that doesn't hide from ugly parts of one's self or of others, 
love in a way that says 'i've got your back,' 
love in a way that seeing someone wearing purple, you catch your breath, because your sister who has been dead for almost 4 years now, loved purple.

Love like that.