It is our oldest daughter’s senior year of high school. We are in the first of “lasts,” feeling both excitement and grief…the now and not yet. SO MANY both/ands, the ones I have walked through many times with clients and this year, am experiencing myself. It is with profound excitement and tremendous reflection and sorrow that we attend each “last.” She is nearly 18, a last of its’ own.

THIS DAY, I sat in the packed bleachers next to my husband and our “swim family,” at E’s “last swim conference” of high school. My head feels confused, “how did we get here,” ringing like a bell in my busy brain. I watch her warm-up, her ease on the always packed pool deck, her legs powerful as she dives off the block. I have been profoundly awestruck with each and every dive she has taken…every. single. one.

Ten years ago, a group of parents sat in the stands of the high school pool, peering at our tiny second graders as they took part in swim lessons provided by the school and the gracious Panther Fund. Some of us were nervous, watching our kids cling to the side of the pool or take quick, cautious jumps to the high schoolers who were volunteering to teach our tiny babes.

I vividly remember sitting there, feeling like my sweet girl would “someday” be a high schooler, but it was a million miles away. I remember searching the deck for her tiny frame, then finding her, kneeling on the side, arms over her head like her papa taught her and ready to do “a real dive!”

Her excitement was palpable, a direct result of the the swimming lessons we’d enrolled her in as young as 3 or 4. She also spent a ton of time learning to swim at our beloved Wolf Lake with her equally beloved “Poppy,” my dad, who also taught me to swim. She stood on the deck, bouncing with excitement! As I watched her, her love for the water seemed to seep and shine out of her very being. I heard someone near me begin to talk about “swim club.” I began to understand the possibilities for her and thus was the beginning of her love affair with both the water and the pool.

While our beautiful girl seemed indeed, to be at least part mermaid, with passion, drive and pure joy in the water, there was a bit more of a learning curve for her mama and dad. Our entrance into the world of competitive swim was ENTIRELY new (meaning, we had NO clue). I remember attending her first dual meet, making sure we’d written her events on her arm in thick black Sharpie, and loaded her up with snacks. I watched her march unto the deck with her camp chair, her backpack and her swim cap in hand. MY OWN insecurities not withstanding, she was entirely in her element!

A friend patiently and thankfully explained some of the nuances, what a “heat sheet” was and how to pick her out in the crowd. I learned two things without a doubt during that first meet: 1) I had no idea what we’d begun and 2) she was already bitten by the swimming bug and was completely smitten. Though she had tried soccer, ballet and tumbling, it was abundantly clear that swimming was HER sport.

I will readily admit that I still do not always understand the competitive side of swim, time standards, choosing events or even how to guide her through the nuances. What I have ALWAYS UNDERSTOOD IS THIS: though I do LOVE swimming and the freedom it provides to my own body, she was never expected to swim or not swim because of us, her parents. She could not, nor should not try to journey her journey FOR ME. WE got to support her, them to be honest. Every single time I watched her and ALL the other kids, I was in awe. The freedom they displayed just walking across the slippery pool deck, getting up on the blocks, keeping their balance, diving and then swim entire events! This is NOTHING SHORT OF MIRACLULOUS.

Every meet therefore, for me, was like watching the Olympics. Brave kids, learning skill and team development, even healthy body image…THIS was how the world could begin to change. These kids were joyful, brave, playful and driven. And accomplished! What we could all learn from them….

For the last ten years, we have watched, cheered, cried, encouraged, and loved every minute of her swim career. We have borne witness to so many others who encouraged, praised, high-fived, and guided our girl and so many others as they have moved from being beginners, to USA competitor to high school swim team members. Then in a blink, it is HER senior year and the end of this chapter of her swim career.

I know this is some mama nostalgia, but it is also, an ode to her, her amazing teammates, coaches and fellow swim parents. I don’t know how else to thank you on her or my own behalf.

Behind this tiny girl smile is a kid who has and continues to inspire me with her love for her sport, her dedication and perseverance and her discipline. And all of that? Well, THAT is also Jesus….in her.

We got to show HER, unconditional support and belief, our own perseverance and true love as we watched nearly every event, time drop, success and error.

We got to love a whole other set of “daughters,” their families and understand another level of community. (Isn’t that Jesus too?)

SHE SHOWED Jesus to so many, writing Philippians 4:13 on her leg from the time she was about 10, always telling others about her prayers while she swims, her complete love for Jesus and how he made the water, her abilities and her blessings.

She learned and continues to learn good sportsmanship, how to regulate her own emotions, expectations and how to accept criticism AND praise. We’ve learned a lot about those, too, right along with her! There are student coaches who have impacted her, her USA coaches who have encouraged, taught, repeated and cheered and her middle school and high school coaches who have forever impacted her. I am sure she wouldn’t be the same without any of you….

She has learned to NEVER GIVE UP, or count herself out….

Do you remember how I started this one?

I sat at the conference meet last weekend and after the Star Spangled Banner, I heard the announcer say, “I want to encourage athletes and spectators to keep it calm, classy and respectful.” His statement hit me right between the eyes. Not because I thought anyone was going to fight (although swim parents CAN BE a rowdy crew,) but because it embodied her whole swim career perfectly. I sat surrounded by the parents who have loved and supported her, sometimes saying the same thing we might, just in a way that wouldn’t make her frustrated! We’ve also tried to calmly (albeit, loudly) and positively also support other teams we come in contact with.

Each one of us has their own phrase, from, “I love it so much!” to “No breathing!” to helping her adjust her turns, her splits or her attitude. I typically am yelling their names, as well as “so good!” We’ve laughed, definitely cried and everything in between.

Our E had a goal of getting a much-coveted state cut (in her 500 free) this year, her last goal in high school swim. Because we as a family made a decision to travel in September, she lost some ground toward that goal. As we entered conference weekend, she was still a bit far from the time she wanted. During Prelims, she seemed frustrated, folded into herself. I was praying, sending her all my love and belief in her. She dropped about 6 seconds, which was no small feat. Still, if she was to attain the cut she so badly wanted, she would need to drop almost 9 MORE seconds during finals the next day.

Finals the next day and I must’ve heard, “Wow, she looks like a different kid today,” about 10 times. I looked at her each time someone mentioned it and her shoulders were relaxed, smile widened and she even flashed her biceps at me, something we do ONLY when she is feeling pretty good before a race. She is stingy with that move!

She dropped 3 seconds in her 200, for which we were all screaming. Still, as that 500 was announced, I could barely breathe. I knew with every inch of my being, how important this was to her. She knows that something worked and waited for is so, so sweet, it would just be a matter of how she tempered her swim….

My good friend Katie sat beside me with the splits she needed, her words comforting as the race continued, her heart even more so. I am so grateful for her own experience as a distance swimmer, perspective and love for our girl. Another set of friends sat behind us, cheering like crazy which just means the world. E touched the wall….7/10ths of a second away from the time needed for the state-cut…

No pressure from us, but I knew she would be crushed…

And yet, she was smiling. She pulled herself from the water and smiled up at our crazy crew of parents, yelling, cheering and deliberately embarrassing our daughters. I was crying hot tears FOR and WITH her and yet, she WASNT. I think I was more proud of her calm, classy and respectful attitude than I might have been about that cut….

When she met us in the lobby, I wondered if her brave face would fall. It DID NOT. She was genuinely so proud of herself and THAT would be a great finish to her high school career from my perspective. Except it wasn’t….

It turns out, she literally would have one last chance in three days, at the last chance meet. We hadn’t even realized that was a thing….

Tuesday evening came and in an ironic twist, my muscles had a terrible day. I couldn’t go, but felt tremendous nerves as I watched on Facetime. My family cheered, Katie texted that “she’s right on pace!” And then…she hit the wall, just a smidge faster than the time she needed! My darling, strong, strong-willed girl had done it, in her very own way.

I still can’t wrap my head around how she must feel, how accomplished a nd how empowered. I do know that she instantly gave credit to her Jesus, which blesses her dad and I (and Jesus.)

I am overwhelmed with joy, completely grateful for every moment. To say watching them all has been a joy does not portray it well enough. I have been allowed a front row seat to the magnificent way that God creates “normal” bodies, strength and courage and FUN. It is and has been a WONDER.

I have loved every moment, my girl. I love being “a swim mom,” cheering and hoping along with you and your fantastically talented teammates. Thank you for it all. Never take it for granted, these skills and gifts that are yours by God’s grace. You inspire so many…be grateful for it all. The comfort you’ve found in a “team,” the comfort you’ve found in your own body, movement and needs; the drive, effort and hard-work you’ve come to embrace and the excitement of the opportunities ahead. I will be with you, every step of the way. Let’s be calm, classy and respectful together; you’ve certainly taught me how.

Both/And

James 1:17

xoxo

Washington trip highlights (Part 3)

It is pure joy to remember our trip and put the many thoughts and connections from my heart into this format. It is one of my favorite ways of making meaning.

Have you heard that phrase before, making meaning? (Meaning making” designates the process by which people interpret situations, events, objects, or discourses, in the light of their previous knowledge and experience. – Bruner, J. S. (1990). Acts of meaning. Cambridge: Harvard University Press.)

I believe that how we interpret, in light of our knowledge and experience, makes the difference between how one person and another who experience the same event, can see, feel and interpret it, entirely different from each another. Maybe I can explain it better with Washington DC as a breathtaking backdrop….

I left at this spot on the last post, we’d just finished with our Capitol and Holocaust tours. Our senses, hearts and minds were saturated with so many things (see previous post). We had just enough time take the Metro back, grab a sandwich at the condo, then get on a tour bus for an evening tour of the monuments.

I’ve always been a night-owl, relishing the stillness that happens as most are sleep. Some of my memories from growing up include staying up really late reading, cleaning, sorting, journaling or simply enjoying the quiet in my own room. I’ve always loved the moments in the Christmas season when we bundle up in the warm car, enveloped in the dark and look for twinkling light displays. And, legitimately, don’t even get me started on Walt Disney World at night. PURE MAGIC, at least to me. Needless to say, as we looked at tour options, I was most excited by the idea of “Washington at Dusk.” That said, our timing wasn’t great, as we had toured all day, all of us were tired, but oh my stars, it was SO worth it.

It started out a bit…bumpy, literally and figuratively. Our bus driver, (who we later learned was named, Tanisha), was skilled and fearless behind the wheel of our massive tour bus! The streets in Alexandria seemed ultra skinny and bumpy, but Tanisha was a pro (and fearless!) Though we had not known that our actual TOUR started in Washington DC and not as we boarded the bus at our condo, we were still so excited to see sights and the beauty of the city at night.

Our tour guide, Dre, was truly an unlimited fount of historical knowledge. He was so smart, so aware of many details of Washington and American history, that I could’ve listened to him much longer than our 4 hour tour.

Our first stop was the White House, which at least initially, left us still wondering about the quality this tour. About 20 of us hopped off the bus, crossed a big open field and then – found ourselves staring at the historic White House, lit up against the inky black sky. Just breath-taking….

Dre shared some inside information about the United States’ most famous home. He took pictures for us, then we all began to trek back to the bus. I was humbled as my husband pushed me in my wheelchair across the thick green grass. As we got back on the bus, someone said in a soft voice, my husband is not here.” You could feel the buzz amongst those of us on the bus, some identifying with “losing someone,” others murmuring concern after the woman whispered, “my husband wanders off easily.” Dre literally, bounced off the bus, quickly looking for “Bob.” After what felt like a very long time, Dre returned with dear Bob and was visibly relived that he hadn’t lost a customer in the dusky evening. Dre made sure to keep this sweet couple with him at each of the next monument stops.

We visited the National Mall which included the Jefferson, Lincoln, Washington, Korean War, WWII, and Vietnam memorials, as well as the Capitol building. We were struck again and again by the history and beauty we were privileged enough to see. Each of the memorials were a wonder of resources, both natural and financial, design, honor, emotional heaviness and thoughtfulness. From the looks on chiseled, sand-blasted and sculpted faces, the placement of landscape, the meticulous detail and honor, built into every. single. model, monument and memorial was nothing short of miraculous. From the grandeur and design of monuments, the details and the way the former presidents gaze over the national mall…each was awe-inspiring. And as the night grew darker and later, the monuments themselves seemed to be sitting on hallowed, holy ground.

As we rode up the decades old elevator to find Abraham Lincoln gazing over the reflection pool, I couldn’t help but stare. I have always loved history. I sat in the wheelchair staring out at the reflecting pool, thinking of all the history that has taken place in this very spot. (Also, cue Forest Gump…)

I found myself staring around every corner for another view of the Washington Monument or feeling rooted to the ground as I stared at the names on the Vietnam War Memorial. Every detail meant to honor and bring remembrance; From the the dog tags, the detailed expressions on the immortalized veterans faces and the significance in every sculpture, I felt compelled to better understand our nations battles, sacrifice of every person serving and cultivate more gratitude. Even in the night, God himself was here, saturating our time, our knowledge, and our abilities to be grateful to every veteran who has fought for the freedoms we share in the US.

We finished with the Martin Luther King Jr. memorial. I think I still can’t comprehend it, weeks later. As the night seemed to fill in every space around us, we arrived just outside of the Martin Luther King monument area. There was immediately a sense of reverence, at least for me….

When our sweet oldest daughter came home from school her first grade year, she flew up our driveway, a colorful piece of paper flapping wildly in her hand. She had painstakingly colored it, even staying in for recess. (Not sure about the eyeshadow, nor is she, now that she is nearly 18.)

“Mama!” She bounded in the door, bursting with information (and her own depiction) about her “new hero,” Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. From that day on, she has held a very special spot in her head and heart for the well-known Civil Rights activist. He is “hers,” much like Mr. Rogers is “mine.”

We passed through the “rock of despair” once we arrived at the statue and I felt all the air escape from my lungs as we attempted to take it all in. The centerpiece for the memorial is based on a line from King’s “I Have A Dream” speech: “Out of the mountain of despair, a stone of hope.” A 30-foot high relief of King named the Stone of Hope stands past two other pieces of granite that symbolize the “mountain of despair.” It is a visually stunning representation of the Civil Rights leaders unfinished fight and a life cut short. Dr. King himself stands overlooking the Tidal Basin, arms crossed, gripping a sheath of papers.

I sat in my wheelchair, uttering a grateful prayer for his life, endurance and sacrifices; looked up to see my daughter walking slowly toward the massive monument to lay her hand so gently on on part of Dr. King. Her love, admiration and desire to emulate the man who deeply lived like Jesus moved me to tears.

I had a hard time rolling back to our tour bus, to be honest. I tangibly felt God’s presence while we visited this beautiful memorial, surrounded by a 450 feet long inscription wall which includes excerpts from many of King’s sermons and speeches. On this crescent-shaped granite wall, fourteen of King’s quotes are inscribed, the earliest from the time of 1955 and the latest from his final sermon, delivered in 1968 at Washington, D.C.’s National Cathedral, just four days before his assassination. We saw the beautiful pulpit a few days later.

The Both/And was not lost on me, amidst the holiness; both sadness for the world in that Civil Rights fight then (still NOW) and the magnitude of grace in how Dr. Martin Luther King followed his calling. Both the respect deserved and the sense of questioning, “Please Jesus, when will this fight be redeemed?” Both gratitude for his wisdom and an apology for all he and so many others have endured.

Though I am white and cannot relate to the struggles of so many who are of equal, but different races, I can relate to some of the feelings of injustice, complexity and bias because of my disability. I felt a small bit of that, (being able to relate) as I sat staring up at Dr. King’s image in the rock. It was a moment I will never forget.

Every year on Dr. Martin Luther King day, I share my favorite of his quotes on my social accounts: “Darkness cannot drive out darkness, only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate, only love can do that.” (1963, Strength to Love)

This quote has moved, shaped and most often reminds me, we can’t reach each other without the ever-present love and goodness of Jesus. We absolutely cannot…but we must keep trying.

If Mr. Rogers can continually “preach” about being born with the indelible goodness of God in our being and Dr. King gave his last breath for the hope of equality, light and love (ie, being like and with Jesus,) then, oh my goodness, I can certainly do my part of loving, caring and making continued efforts to value one another. And when I can’t, my God can within me. All I must continue to do is try….

We have come so far and we have so far to go….both…and.

Both/And

Xoxo