Category Comfort

Defining Sabbatical

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What the heck is a “sabbatical”? This was the question my kids asked as I planned a mini-vacation for myself. I explained to them that a “sabbatical” was my time to recharge after surviving the spring semester. According to Merriam-Webster’s online dictionary, a sabbatical is a break or change from a normal routine (as of employment).

What does “sabbatical” mean to you?

After subbing the last 13 weeks of the school year for junior high language arts and fulfilling my duties for our farm, I needed a break from the “normal” routine. I needed a complete reset, so booking a cabin for a couple of nights made perfect sense. My packing consisted only of comfortable clothes, food, books, wine, and melatonin. I was bound and determined to relax on my “sabbatical.”

The hardest part about taking the sabbatical was my guilt. I felt terribly guilty about leaving hubby and the kiddos and neglecting my responsibilities at our home and farm. I felt guilty about missing baseball games and gymnastics practices. I felt guilty about leaving my dog. I felt guilty about the fact that I had no purpose other than to rest. I was crazy.

Taking those 72 hours to relax, recharge, and rediscover my motivation was the healthiest thing I could have done. I now believe that is what a sabbatical should do.

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The Circus Isn’t Going Anywhere – Wise Words Wednesday

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“You can get the monkey off your back, but the circus never leaves town”

― Anne Lamott, Grace (Eventually): Thoughts on Faith

Recently, I stopped at a gift shop in hopes of finding a special present for my niece. It was a normal errand on a typical day, and I was pretty excited about the task. All of a sudden, a voice from my past called my name (literally). It was not a voice I expected or wanted to hear. The projector of the voice was someone who caused a lot of embarrassment and insecurity for me in the past.

I responded with a smile and answered all the questions thrown at me about my life now. Fortunately, I had to pick up my son from practice, so I said my goodbyes and got the heck out of there. The rest of my evening was filled with monkey mind memories swinging from one hurtful remembrance to another.

You know the type. The memory that pops up at 2:00 a.m. when you can’t shut your brain off or the voice across the room that causes your stomach to drop (not in a good way). Some memory monkeys are rabid and never stop attacking your thoughts, while others are sneaky and shimmy into your day without you realizing and then you, all of a sudden, are in full-on “can’t think about anything else mode.”

Here’s the good news. With time, forgiveness, and grace, we can pry those memory monkeys off our proverbial backs and send them packing.

Here’s the bad news. You can get the monkey off your back, but the circus never leaves town.

Anne Lammot wrote these wise words in her book, Grace (Eventually): Thoughts on Faith, when I read this I knew Anne was on to something.

When we do find the strength to move forward, it seems like that pesky memory monkey always finds a way to pop up in our day, whether it be in our thoughts or in the checkout line. The “circus” could be the result of living in a small town or the fact that your mind is its own three-ring extravaganza of emotions and you are the head clown.

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I Am Not Okay – Stuck on Repeat

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Listening to the radio is often frustrating because I feel like the same songs are played over and over. Like most people, my drive times are pretty consistent. Two days a week I drive my son to his 6:00 p.m. practice. When we get in the car, we jokingly place bets on what songs we will hear first because they are always the same.

In the past few weeks, there has been one song in particular that I haven’t minded being on repeat. It is “I Am Not Okay” by Jelly Roll.
(If you haven’t heard it, please give it a listen, but be sure to listen all the way through.)

While singing along with the gravel, grit, and pain in Jelly Roll’s voice, I started to feel something loosening in my heart last week. I looked at my 11-year-old and sang, “I am not okay. I’m barely getting by. I’m losing track of days and losing sleep at night… I know I can’t be the only one who’s holding on for dear life.” My sweet boy laughed at me and said, “Mom, you are okay.” As I sang the rest of the lyrics to him via my in-car concert, I felt like I couldn’t stop until the last verse. When I got to the last verse, I couldn’t go on. My heart hurt too much to sing.

As we pulled into practice, I told my son to go on in. I would be in shortly.

He went in. I broke down.

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A Big Butt Goodbye

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Teaching kids about death is one of the trickiest tasks parents face. I believe we can help kids through the tough lessons in life by allowing them to be an active part of the grieving process. This invites our children to voice their individual ideas for coping and moving on after a loss. Sometimes we can find inspiration, comfort, and joy in the contributions of our kiddos while experiencing times of sadness.

My friend Mandy shared one particular experience that occurred when her son and daughter were younger. Their family had a kitten that was born with severe defects in its spine. The kids named the kitten Joey. As Mandy retold the tale, Claire interjected that the kitten had a really big butt. As kittens with severe defects will do, Joey crossed over the rainbow bridge to pet heaven soon after he was born.

When it came time to bury Joey, Liam asked what they were supposed to do at a cat funeral. Mandy wracked her brain and said, “I think we share the good memories we had with Joey and sing songs or say things that remind us of the happier times with him.”

Liam told Joey he would always remember carrying him around and playing with him every morning. Liam would never forget sweet Joey. When it came time for Claire to speak, she chose the happiest song she could think of and in her tiny toddler voice busted out, “I like big butts and I cannot lie…”

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Shredding Stress

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During my recent tenure as a substitute teacher, I had a student introduce me to the practice of stress shredding.

We will call that student Madddie.

Maddie was a young lady who seemed angry at the world most of the time. In one situation she jumped up excitedly as her classmates headed to the recycle bin to dispose of their graded grammar practices (a sad situation to be discussed in a future post.) It was her unusual speed and enthusiasm that caught me off guard. “Why are you taking your classmates’ papers?” I asked her. Another 8th grader piped up, “It’s okay, Mrs. P. She shreds to relieve stress.”

Interesting?!?!

Maddie had purchased a personal shredder for her bedroom and the practice of shredding paper brought her a sense of zen. I asked the entire class if it bothered them to have someone else see their grades, to which Maddie snapped, “I don’t care about their grades. I just care about shredding.” In a quieter voice, she followed up with, “It calms me down.”

The class didn’t seem fazed by the idea of someone else seeing their grammar practice grades, so I provided Maddie with a paperclip to hold the shredder fuel together. 

Identifying paper shredding as a stress reliever seemed like a perfect Intentergy practice.

Maddie found a way to break down her anxiety by mechanically mincing paper. It’s in the beauty of finding simple solutions for fixing our frustrations that life becomes easier to manage. I have known people who grounded themselves folding laundry or ironing clothes, and others who re-established their sanity by cleaning windows or mowing grass. They find peace in the order and product of their efforts.

I derive my zen from pulling weeds and cooking food. 

What can you intentionally do to tackle your stressors with simple repetition or
a few minutes of focus?

Put some Intentergy in your day by relaxing with positive purpose in your shredding, folding, washing, walking, or filing. Be like Maddie and allow the Intentergy of your practice to help you get your bearings and bring you peace.

What basic practice brings you comfort or calm?

By: Melanie A. Peters

P.S. If your zen comes in the form of folding clothes or washing windows, I have piles of peace waiting for you at my house.

How Did the Holy Family Figure It Out?

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It’s crazy how often we find ourselves praying for one thing and then the words of someone we love or respect smack us right upside the head with the truth about what we need in place of what we thought we wanted. This past Sunday, I entered church in a very snippy mood. My children had aggravated me to the point I was not feeling very faithful. I kneeled in the pew and prayed for God to help me handle my little heathens.

It just so happened that this Sunday was the feast of the Holy Family and the readings were about what God asked of Mary and Joseph, how Mary held all the worries and wonders in her heart, and how Jesus grew smart, strong, and full of grace. Our priest Father Tony is one of the most relatable pastors we could ever ask for. He started his homily by speaking on how happy it made him to see the way our community always comes together and the work we do to raise our children well. He went on to say that he knew not all families were made the same. He mentioned the “nuclear” families, the blended families, the families made up of grandparents raising grandchildren, foster families, and any variety of “dysfunctional” families possible. He told us of his estranged brother and how it hurt him to think of his brother’s decision to remove himself from their lives.

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Refrigerator Fancy

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Do you consider yourself to be fancy?

Do you include your appliances in your fancifulness?

At dinner one night, my children and husband were making light of the fact that I was drinking a glass of red wine with my steak. They continued teasing me about my “fancy” wine glass and my love for planning, preparing, and documenting good meals. (I’m not really very fancy, but I guess they have to have something to tease me about.)

As the ribbing continued about my fanciful ways, my son said, “Just look at your refrigerator.”

We all stopped.

What did the fridge have to do with me being “fancy”?

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It’s Okay if Things Go “Sploosh”

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Sometimes I find myself consumed with what-ifs. So consumed in fact, that my thoughts have no where to go but straight to panic mode. As I planned for a recent girls weekend, (one that my worry-logged nerves desperately needed) I asked Hubby to help me with getting a load of firewood. My gal pals and I were staying at a secluded cabin, complete with wood-burning fireplace, and the weatherforecast was calling for snow.

After some impressive chainsaw brandishing, Hubby and I had filled a tractor bucket full of logs. When I told my loving lumberjack that I would stack the logs on the flatbed to drive to the cabin, he told me not to worry. He would simply dump the wood right on the truck, and it would be ready to go. Immediately, my internal anxiety alarms started sounding in my head. He asked if I was okay with that plan. I told him all I could picture in my mind were the logs going “sploosh” as he put them on the truck or flying off as we drove down the highway. He firmly but lovingly put his hands on my shoulders and said, “It’s okay if things go ‘sploosh’ sometimes.”

With that statement my tears wanted to splash but, instead, I found a giggle for his use of “sploosh.”

I knew he was right and maybe, just maybe, if I could get over my fear of the potential “splooshes” in life, I could get past the nervousness that has been nagging at me so heavily lately.

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Swamped in a Hive

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Have you ever tried to have a conversation with a parent who is inundated with the behaviors and requests of their children? It’s like trying to locate the queen bee in a hive of crazy. Nobody is concerned about or can comprehend what’s being said, focus is going in a million directions, and the constant buzz is enough to drive everyone in and outside of the hive crazy.

This past weekend I witnessed my friend, Jamie, at the heart of her own wild hive. We were hanging out at a friend’s shop, and for some unknown-to-our-children reason trying to have a conversation.

While Jamie balanced her son on one leg, her daughter traipsed passed walking her baby doll by the hair. Without warning, the baby doll leapt onto Jamie’s vacant leg and began marching up her arm and then rested on her head. Shortly there after, Jamie’s husband asked her about something he couldn’t remember, and she replied calmly with whatever he needed to know. Barely skipping a beat, Jamie continued on with our conversation. After finishing her sentence to me, she politely asked her daughter to take the doll to play somewhere else. Her daughter’s response, “But I need you to be my jungle gym.”

Well, there you had it.

Jamie was needed.

She was a comfy place to sit for her son, reference library for her husband, an apparatus for her daughter’s baby doll activities, and a hub of conversation for me.

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Biblical Surprise – Wise Words Wednesday

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Fifth Grade homework can be tough. Last week my son’s computer teacher assigned an “About Me” Google Slides presentation. Each slide had a theme and criteria for creation. Of course, there were the “My Family” and “Favorite Hobby” slides, but the one slide that stuck out to me on the rubric was, “Favorite Scripture Verse.”

While this is my son’s sixth year attending a Catholic school, and we attend church every week, I wasn’t sure my son knew any particular Bible verse, much less which is his favorite.

While making dinner, switching laundry, and helping with other homework, I left him to work on the presentation, and waited for his cry for help.

As expected, his call for “Mom” rang out when he hit the scripture slide. His plea was followed by a demanding, “I need the Bible.” (Insert sarcastic Mom statement about needing more than just the Bible in his life, followed by son’s annoyed eye roll.)

After taking a deep breath and mentally preparing for a meltdown, I asked if he knew any Bible verses that he liked.

To my Biblical surprise, he responded with, “Duh, Mom, I know it’s in Exodus; I just don’t know the exact number.”

Exodus?!? That seemed like an unusual place to select a favorite verse, but who am I to question divine inspiration.

My 10-year-old proceeded to tell me that his favorite verse is when Moses parted the sea allowing the Israelites to flee Egypt unharmed. This is a very powerful scene, but I wasn’t sure what made it inspiring to him. At the risk of being slaughtered by yet another violent eye roll, I asked what it was about the parting of the sea that stood out.

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