At work we are building a whole new thing. Our organization with a rich history is ushering in a new era and it has a big learning curve. While we create the new vision and the pathways to getting there, we still are serving the needs of our members. That means we are both creating a new plane and it is actively in motion.
Shannon and I’s summer was so unexpectedly beautiful and healing I thought our era of rebuild was over. We could return to school life and our more established routines ready to just live and stop trying to navigate, heal AND live. When this fall has been a huge amount of healing and growth – especially when I personally was over that process – I was frustrated. And when frustration lasts for several months, you find the end of your rope pretty quick. Thankfully a variety of resources have guided us through – faith, friends, building new rhythms – and we are just days a way from November. I am no longer under the illusion that we are now “all better”, but I do feel more settled. Through this season I have been reminded of the reality that in most of life we are flying the plane while building it. And I guess I am not a fan.
Learning, growing and pressing myself to my limit are all experiences I have welcomed. My best self wasn’t always present…. but all in all I have been grateful for the opportunities. In fact bold enough to want share and write about them. Even though there are lots of clear explanations of why this season is different I am surprised by my frustration. Almost disappointed at myself – isn’t this who I am? Messy, gritty, and toxically positive? And there is one reason above them all for my angst: this is Shannon’s childhood.
My parents never appeared to be flying the plane and building it too. I can count on my hands the number of times I saw my mom lose it to tears. And my dad had a huge job and I can never remember him sighing at algebra homework the way I do at first grade cartwheels after 7pm. Sure, I remember moments of frustration for them – and I also remember catching my brother’s eye and realizing maybe we had pushed them a little too far. Which often dissolved in hidden giggles. Their limit still seemed purposeful and formative for our family. Mine feels broken.
I post and share about it often – but Shannon has been well protected in my broken. Our family….. my longtime friends…. and this amazing community that are still new to us. They have shown up, picked up the pieces, filled in the gaps, provided consistency and guided her little 6 year old heart so it can still be a kid. This is what the gushing online is about – I am overwhelmed and so grateful. While also desperate to find my footing. I can’t stay knocked down by the waves….. God willing I live longer and thus they will keep coming. I want to stand and face them, but the lost time and uncertainty of how to walk forward has me stalled out.
The one truth that has seemed to really shake me loose: this is my first time being a mom. I am learning and I will never actually “get it” because the blessing of life is you grow into new seasons. There will always be something new. This reality helped me be able to catch my breath.
Then there is second truth that allowed me to actually start to stand back up: God picked me to be her mom. In this life, in this story, in this season I was placed very specifically. He actually made me able to do it – even if I have no idea how all the time. He also provides the sacraments, the mass, the grace that I need to be who he created and answer this call.
So I could circle back to the thing that was causing the most pain: this is Shan’s childhood and I want it to be as strong, comforting, and beautiful as mine was. But I am missing a lot of the ingredients from my life and God didn’t place her in that family, she placed her in ours. I have to build this plane while flying it…. no choice. We all do – in parenthood, in careers, in our lives.
And often the stones that one by one are creating this childhood and our family are the little pebbles: carpool drop off, family walks, consistent rhythms of regular mass or family dinners or sports schedules. Why have I found myself watching clips of old TV shows I grew up watching on social media? The weird 90s dad sweatpants remind me of weekends as a kid….. the music brings back Friday nights settling with my brothers long enough to watch the 28 minute show we have talked about since we got home from school…. the comfort of our Ashburn community. Yes, I remember impactful moments and hard lessons and my parents guiding wisdom – but I am nostalgic for much littler moments. And those I can grab on to and build with – even if I am driving it at the same time.
In all my wrestling, the gift of death being so present in our lives is this frustration…. the growing…. the changing…. the navigating new…. it is all proof I am alive. With each new sunrise, each “I am sorry” Shan and I have to say to each other when our griefs collide, and with each new moment I in my heart know Danny gets none. Yes, I believe he is alive in the resurrection and as my sister reminded me recently: he is seeing with Jesus eyes -what a way to live. But my humanity is still overwhelmed that it is finished. Shan may be challenged by my still being a human who has to learn how to be a mom, but she will get to witness different versions of me and eras of our family. Danny is frozen in time as the sick dad who wasn’t around much. Someone he never would have wanted to be and in the end who he was trapped being. I have the opportunity to accept my shortcomings as invitations to keep living. That has brought comfort and deep grief all at the same time. And a big understanding for why this fall has been so hard and with some sprinkles of grace to soften the edges: still beautiful.
We are all flying the plane, while building it…. thank you, God. Praying for you and your building.
Thanks for reading and remember to make it a great day!
Jackie
