I went outside this morning to warm up the car before taking the kiddos to school. As I sat in the cold driver’s seat looking at the ice-covered windshield, I thought about how many times my dad, during 40+ years of getting up early before any of us and going to work, must have gotten into a cold car, and if it his car was in our driverway instead of in the garage, how many times he must have cleared off the windshield. I thought about all those years of “doing what he had to do” to care for us – sacrifices that I know about and those that are only known to him and my mom.

I thought about my mom – a mom of four children – and wondered how many times she too went out in the cold – garage or driveway – to warm up the car and take us to school. I thought about all the years she held things together, on her own, no space to fully grieve losing her parents in her early twenties.

I thought about the French braids she would so lovingly put in my hair and I wondered how she did it – how she could sit and patiently braid my hair in the morning before school with three other children running around. I never remember feeling rushed or blamed for taking too much time or wanting too much. I remember deep kindness, attention, and devotion to loving.

Suddenly, a deep sense of gratitude overwhelmed me as I watched the windshield wipers going back and forth. I looked up at our house. I could see our puppy watching me and wagging his tail. I could see my children putting their coats on and getting their backpacks. I found myself pausing and tears welling up in my eyes. There were many years when I couldn’t see past the hurt in me and the imperfections in others in order to have gratitude for the “depths of devotion” of my dear ones…and my own self.

I thought about a few weeks ago when someone was complaining about a Christmas gift their mother-in-law sent them. I remember thinking, “Gosh, where’s the gratitude? At least she was trying.” I remember then thinking about the times I’ve complained about my own parents “not getting it right” and how sorry I am now, as a mom myself, for nit picking at the imperfections rather than appreciating their depth of devotion.

How often do we nit-pick at the imperfections of our dear ones – our parents, our spouse, our children and even ourselves? How often do we hold ourselves and others to impossible standards?

I see the suffering this has caused me and my dear ones.

I see, too, how I nit-picked for all these years because I was hurting. And I have needed to tend to old wounds that just happen when we are in intimate, so-very-human relationships with others. I have needed to acknowledge the unmet need and tend to those wounds.

That has taken many years. Having children brings up our old, unresolved stuff, doesn’t it?

But over the years, by tending to the old unmet need – the hurt, the wound – that spurred the current nit-picking, I’m no longer stuck. Stuck in complaining. Stuck in trying to get someone to do something to make me feel better. Suck in “victim” and “blame” mode.

This has been empowering. I have softened. I have released and let go. I have more spaciousness and capacity to let others off the hook.

Most importantly, my capacity to see and appreciate my dear ones’ depth of devotion has widened. Rather than brewing over old wounds from the past and nit-picking imperfections in the present, I can see the devotion – even in the human “imperfections.” And my heart swells with gratitude.

I can let myself be imperfect, too. I can let myself “off the hook.” I can see the depths of my devotion to my children and partner. I can see the bigger picture. I can actually pat myself on the back and say, “Lisa, you have really done all you can. You have been deeply devoted.”  I can forgive myself.

And most recently, I am learning that I can let myself be vulnerable.

And there is a widening sense of ease and strength settling in my soul.

Dropping the Armor

One day –

maybe because it’s time

or because the weight has become too crushing –

you drop the armor around your heart

so you can breathe

and love in this world

undefended.

Lisa McCrohan, (c) 2021, Your Light is Rising

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Dear Ones,

When you catch yourself complaining about others – especially your dear ones – what would it be like to pause for a moment, put your hand on your heart, and ask, “What’s happening right now?  What’s the deeper wound feeding this complaint? Can I tend to it with compassion?”

What would it be like to tend to the deeper wound rather than continuing to nit-pick the imperfections?

Can you sense your capacity to “widen the lens” and see their depth of devotion in the imperfect, human ways of loving?

Can you see your own depth of devotion and let yourself off the hook?

Underneath the complaint and the judging is always a wound that hasn’t been tended to…a need that hasn’t been met.  Meet it with compassion.

I have seen it so many times -again and again – in my own life and in sitting with others in coaching and therapy: when we pause and see what’s behind the complaining, we tend to the wounds there rather than stay stuck in nit-picking the imperfections.  We begin to heal.  And though it is simple, it is not an easy path – one with lots of vulnerability and tenderness.

But slowly, we begin to release all that energy caught up in blaming and “turning away from love” that has robbed us of our inner vibrancy.  We begin to widen the lens and see the depth of devotion – in others and ourselves.  Our capacity for gratitude widens.  Our ability to love and treasure ourselves and others – deepens. We touch what it is like to breathe and love freely.

And here are Gems of mine you can find in my shop that support you in deepening your sense of gratitude and devotion:

• Blog post: the devotion of a mother
• Blog post: dads and devotion
• I created this Gratitude Meditation Bundle for those who want to deepen their connection to their own hearts and others, and live from a place of deep gratitude.
• My two books, Gems of Delight and Your Light is Rising, offer lovely poetry, stories, and reflections for a sacred pause in your day.
• Interested in having a professional by your side?  Consider integrative coaching.