Relax, Stop Thinking, Let Yourself Float...

I spent this cold, dreary and wet afternoon splashing around with my children in the indoor pool at the YMCA.  It’s not a regular place, but we had a free weeklong trial pass, so why not?  Splashing around in a pool is always a good thing.  Splashing around in a heated pool in December borders on great.

While the eight year old swam laps and made friends with the closest nine year old, I stayed in the more shallow end helping the five year old remember how to paddle and kick.  Next to us, another mother was trying to teach her youngster how to float on her back.

I heard her say “You have to stop thinking and just let it happen!” which led us grownups to chatting about what great advice that is for Life In General. 

We put so much emphasis on thought.  And that’s not a bad thing.  We want our children to be Thoughtful.  I try to teach them to think before they speak.  To think before they act.  To think about the consequences of their actions:  If I do X, then Y will probably happen.  I want them to think their way through problems and think about what is Real and what Matters.

While thinking is good, over-thinking is not something I want them to do at all.  Over-thinking leads to Worry.  It leads to Self-Doubt.  It leads to Fear.  And it leads to ending all progress.  One of my favorite quotes about worry (which can be applied to over-thinking) is: “Worry is like a rocking chair.  It gives you something to do, but you don’t get anywhere.”

When I think about the biggest leaps forward in my life…the greatest successes and the nicest surprises...they came as a result of just being in the moment.  That means there was no thought about whether I knew what I was doing, whether I was doing it right, whether anyone was watching, or what the result might be.  I just Did it.  Whatever IT was.  And IT worked out.

Every job I ever started, I had to walk in with my head up and eyes open and act like I knew what I was doing.  Suddenly, I realized I DID know what I was doing.   Whether I was juggling a project, teaching a class, cracking the mic to interview someone I never heard of, or figuring out how to feed my own babies, there was no point in thinking about it.  I just DID it.

When people ask my mother how she managed to raise nine decent human beings while working and living her life, she usually gives the same answer: “I don’t know, I just DID it.”

When you turn on the news and see a hero being interviewed after going into a fire to save someone, or jumping into a runaway car to stop it, don’t they always say something like “I didn’t really think about it, I just did it.” to the reporter?

As we head into the new year, I’m going to work a bit harder at reminding my kids – and remembering for myself – to just relax, stop thinking too much, and let yourself float.

 

I Hope There Was Pie...

When I think of my favorite times with my grandparents, there is a myriad of options to choose from.  Every moment is precious to me – learning at my grandmother’s side as she went about her day, watching my grandfather work outside, lunching privately with them at the breakfast nook – but very high on the list is Thanksgiving at Grandma and Grandpa’s.

Everyone loves Thanksgiving, right?  I don’t know if anyone loved it more than my grandfather.

Now, a Christ family Thanksgiving dinner was really pretty simple.  Your basic fare: turkey, potatoes, dressing (Grandma’s wild rice dressing!), and an assortment of pies.  Nothing that would impress Martha Stewart and, frankly, I don’t think Grandma would give a hoot about her opinion, anyway.

Grandma cared very much about table manners.  Every family meal required proper table setting, traditional Russian service etiquette and a blessing.  This example set the tone for all of us as we made our way out into the world.  A formal dinner like Thanksgiving was an opportunity to flex our manner muscles!

Grandpa cared mostly about the pie and the wine.  We are not a typical wine-with-dinner family.  Wine is for special occasions and, at holidays, was most often homemade with origins in a local (family owned) orchard.  Grandpa loved to share his wine with all present.  Even the little people.  So even though we were often relegated to the Kid’s Table in the kitchen, we still felt like a big part of the family gathering.  We knew we mattered as much as the tall folks in the dining room because our grandparents made it very clear that it was so.

When the dinner dishes were cleared, Grandpa sat, unmoved, waiting for his pie and coffee to be served to him.  Not patiently, but unmoved.  This was a good time for him to talk to the other grown ups still at the table (not much talking during the meal) or to pinch the cheek of a grandchild making her way to the toybox.  I believe that Grandpa was at his happiest there, at the head of his table, watching over his family and giving thanks for all that he had.

Certainly, he was not perfect.  I’m sure that his wife would have liked to clobber him from time to time.  I know his children still carry some battle scars from their childhood under his reign.  He had unreasonable expectations of his kids and never let them forget that they needed to do better.  His tough judgment and stern rule was, I think, typical of his era and the best that he knew to do. 

Still, my Grandpa was the greatest measure of a man I’ve ever known.  Whether I was conscious of it or not, I have spent my life comparing everyone I meet to him.

He was a devoted son, leaving school in 6^th grade to take care of his mother and 8 siblings when his father was too ill to work the farm himself.  He was a dedicated and loving brother.  I don’t know if he ever said the words out loud, but he made a commitment to his parents to always look after his younger brothers and sisters and that was a job he took seriously.

He was, of course, the most dedicated hard worker there was.  He taught me, by example, that NO job is beneath me.  There’s no such thing as “menial work”.  ALL work matters and ALL work is important, so whatever it is you are doing, do your very best.  He worked so hard because he wanted to give his family everything that he didn’t have for himself and he taught his children to work so that they could DO for themselves.

He was a man with no grey areas.  Right was Right and wrong was wrong.  There was no room for excuses or justification, so he did what he felt was Right.  Period.  He held his loved ones to those same standards.  If you can help someone, you should.  There’s no point in words if they’re unkind.  He lived it and embodied it and we all soaked it in.  My brother Rick has often said that when he’s called to make a big decision, he asks himself “What Would Grandpa Do?” and that makes the decision easy.  I find myself doing the same.

He loved his wife and never stopped looking at her with adoration.  She was no-nonsense and he was playful.  As their granddaughter, it brought me great joy to catch him reaching out to grab her butt and to hear her bark “Ach, Al!” and swat him away.  He lived and breathed for my grandmother and when she left this earth, his body may have still been here, but his spirit went with her.

For the last few years, he’s been trapped in a body in limbo.  Too strong to quit, but too weak to really function.  When it became clear that he couldn’t stay in his home, he had to go to a care facility.  With each day, the light in his eyes faded, he was more and more lost and his moments of lucidity were fewer and farther between. 

This year, he was able to leave the sad, gloomy home and go live with his eldest daughter.  In July, most of his family came together for his 100^th birthday.  The light in his eyes returned for a bit, as great-grandchildren hugged him, long-ago coworkers came to celebrate him, and there was no shortage of pie as he looked around at the legacy of Love and Life that he created.

I think most of us knew that would be our last visit with Grandpa.  I think he knew, too.  He returned to Fran’s home, where he had comfort and a window with a beautiful farmland view, but every day was harder than anyone would want it to be.

On Thanksgiving 2013, Fran’s children and grandchildren came to her house for the family dinner.  Grandpa visited with his grandchildren, soaked in the energy of the great grandchildren, had a Thanksgiving dinner, complete with PIE.  He spent the next day not feeling well, and by Saturday, he just wanted to nap.  So that’s what he did.  In his own room, surely with thoughts of pie in his head, and a smile in his heart, he closed his eyes and made his way to the table on the other side.

There, I believe, he was greeted by his parents and his siblings, who hugged him and said “Good job!”  That’s what he’s spent his life hoping to hear, I think. Surely, his wife and eldest son, Joe were there, too,  And I really hope there was pie.

So, Happy Thanksgiving, Grandpa.  Thanks for Giving us your love, your wisdom, and your hell when we needed it.  Your Legacy is Love, it is strong, and it is everlasting.