Running With Scissors

“I often times struggle with being patient, seeking perspective and enduring. I have rushed forward without much awareness… to fix or at least make better. Slowly I am putting the scissors down and standing still - then moving with lovingkindness.”

Running with scissors.

Something my parents always taught me NOT to do. “You’ll hurt yourself.” Was the common reasoning. It makes sense, of course. Sharp objects flying around in haste and hurry. We are taught at an early age how to protect ourselves.

What I later learned in life, is that running with scissors also harms others. It’s tragic for all involved, really. You see, scissors are a wonderful tool to cut away. A instrument for removing the “thing” that you don’t want. Separate that which is not meant to be there. Or to divide in two. But, to be running forward, or in many cases…running in circles, not only can you harm yourself in the process, but often you hurt those around you as well.

I often times struggle with being patient, seeking perspective and enduring. In the past, I have easily rushed forward without much awareness… to fix or at least make better. Slowly I’ve learned to put the scissors down and stand still - then move with lovingkindness.

Over the last several years, I’ve seen this happen in my life. I became acutely aware that my response to mend, patch, fix…was not as productive as I’d hoped for. I needed to take a step back. This has taken a lot of self control. Fear and anger can cause you to not think clearly. This I’ve known well.

I’m at the beginning of a two year journey of mindfulness training. A program designed to help bring me even closer to self awareness, deeply connect to the present and discover the awakening of my own heart. In return, my heart mends and my prayer is the world around me will heal a little as well.

Slow down, take a breath.

This is the practice of noticing not just what you feel, but where you feel it. Have deep compassion for yourself. You’ve come a long way, baby!

So, stop. Put the scissors down (slowly) and take a breath. Practice not running to fix misunderstandings, the scuffs on the floor, conflicts, the zipper, the broken relationship, all the things. Pause to notice how you feel. Out of control? Okay. You are allowed to feel that way. And when the time is right, when you’ve found clear understanding of the present moment - move again, with ease, with love and with compassion.

Having A Routine

We all have routines. Sometimes we don’t recognize them, but we’ve created habits that are a part of who we are. Often times, these show up in big, beautiful and generous ways.

For years, my morning routine has been a grounding and vital aspect of my life. As I make my way down the wooden staircase for my first cup of coffee, relishing the quietness of the house, I make my way to my library. This is my favorite room durning the colder months. The leather furniture is arranged for intimate conversations, while the bookshelves, filled with volumes of wonder and knowledge, invite quiet reflection and learning.

This is where I sit. A stack of books by my side, my journal and my warm cup of coffee.

There is something so special about the way the soft sunrise welcomes me here. It’s as if the morning is asking me to show up quietly and purposefully.

It’s during this time I love to be alone. First with my thoughts, then in prayer and writing. It’s here where my heart can feel heavy and feel full. This is where my tears flow, my aha moments happen and excitement is born. Over the years, this routine has helped me navigate the challenges of my life. Through reflection and listening to my own heart, I’ve created a place to grow. And often times, just learn to move forward.

This is where I see God show up.

So, I give myself a moment. After that, the day can come as it will. I know my day may be hijacked, or busy, or unexpected. But that becomes easier to move through if I’ve had a chance to tend to my heart.

I must say, it didn’t always look this way. When I was raising my boys - my mornings looked like packing lunches, school drop off’s and running errands. Back then, I learned to show up for myself in other ways. Mostly with mid day or evening walks. I found I enjoyed being alone, even for a little while.

I hope you are giving yourself a moment too. It’s okay to create space to fill up, figure life out and settle into the stillness of your own heart. You’ll be back in the flow when you are done, ready for the beautiful or messy life that awaits you. Hopefully a little more grounded.

The Return Home

A Journey Back To Myself

I have spent the last several years searching for what is next for me on my personal path. From retreats in the mountains, to in person teachings, virtual learning, diving into books and listening to podcasts just to name a few.

I’ve struggled, I soared. I’ve sat with what I know and I’ve doubted everything in me.

This is my journey. Sitting in a hospital room with my mom, on the heels of my father-in-law’s death. This is my journey back to my true self - one moment at a time. One breath at a time.

It’s been a roller coaster of a ride solving one problem after another. Don’t we all feel that way sometimes? A season. But I think the truth is we are all in ruts and valleys and standing on mountain tops at different times in our lives. It ebbs and flows. Much like the river. Cutting through the dirt and mud and rock.

Grief is teaching me a lot.

How to process my holding… and my tears, to what happens in my body when I struggle to keep it together. FYI, keeping it together is not the goal. Processing grief through tears and silence and stumbling up and down the spiral staircase that it truly is, is a more honest reality.

I’ve never wanted such a soft heart. My hope as a Navy wife was that I would be strong. Stand with strength and courage. I needed to “hold down the fort”, so to say. I didn’t have the luxury of falling apart.

I married my best friend just 66 days after turning 20 years old. Crazy, right! But we were going to do this life together and so we just needed to get going on it. And in those years, I was asked to grow up quickly and figure it out. My new motto became “sink or swim.”

I lost my softness.

I was tough. I could move my family across the country and back again. Find new schools, rip my child out of one and put them in another. I could find new doctors, spend holidays alone and be my children’s guide and hope of teaching them that they too are strong and able.

So here I am. Raw and soft… and I’m working on accepting my tender heart. Because it wants me to learn from it. Perhaps the world needs it. I’m not sure, but I’m leaning into what this heart is going to teach me this year.

I’ll take you on this journey with me. I hope we learn together. Maybe you’ll relate. Maybe you’ll grow. I think I will. For the seeds we plant will find it’s way through the dirt and muck. And in God’s perfect timing we will flourish.

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