Three Hundred Eighteen Days

Almost a year ago, three hundred eighteen days to be exact, I shared about reaching my breaking point. Physically, mentally, and emotionally I was exhausted. I was burned out from investing too much time and energy into people and things outside of myself and not consistently investing enough quality time and energy in myself.

I didn’t get to that place overnight, and I knew that getting back to a place of health – physically, mentally, and emotionally – would take time. Sure, I could have gone to my doctor and asked for an increase in my antidepressant medication, and I’m sure that would’ve “helped”. However, deep down I knew that what I was experiencing wasn’t depression (although it was definitely part of it), and putting the band-aid of more medication wasn’t going to get down to the root of the issues I was experiencing.

There was no magic formula I followed to improve my overall health. I didn’t follow a particular program or introduce anything radically new into my life (other than planning to take a leave of absence from work which got the Covid-wrench thrown into it). Instead I found that what I needed was already in my life…I just needed to utilize my time, energy, and resources differently.

First off, I prayed. A lot. I’m not just talking saying a few extra Our Fathers. There were a lot of big conversations between God and me happening. Some of them were a lot of me asking “Why?” about a multitude of different things; others were of the begging nature in which I pleaded with him to just make it all go away and show me the fast, easy road back to “normal”; then there were the ones in which I surrendered to Him and just asked Him to hold me because I couldn’t hold myself up any longer. 

The weekend before I was supposed to begin my leave of absence, I was invited by a couple of friends to join them in a 40-day yoga and personal growth challenge. Through that, I did find that doing yoga daily helped me improve my physical health. I don’t know if you’ve ever done yoga, but some of those poses are hard. And then you have to hold them for forever. Even though I wanted to give up pretty much every day in the beginning, I stuck with it and found myself getting stronger and not hating all the hard poses so much. I also found that my mental health was improving from both the nature of yoga and being focused as well as being pretty proud of my progress.

Sleep became a priority. I found a sleep app that tracked not only how long I slept but also how much light and restful sleep I got. I have learned that: a) I feel best when I get 7 hours of restful sleep; b) too much alcohol before I went to bed decreases my restful sleep; c) exercise typically increases my amount of restful sleep; d) not enough sleep usually mean I’m not going to be as peppy and patient throughout the next day; e) the less sleep I get directly affects my eating habits the next day (and not in a healthy way). Overall, I learned that sleep is essential to my overall health.

I started watching The Office. As a school counselor, I have learned about the science behind how laughter affects the brain and can improve your mood and mental health, which is why I knew that if I was going to watch something, it had to be my kind of funny. Michael, Dwight, Jim, Pam, Stanley, and the rest of the crew at Dunder Mifflin are my kind of funny!

With the help of my husband and my counselor, I began to reconcile with things from my past that were still affecting me even though I thought I had put those people and things behind me. I learned the true meaning of forgiving and letting go of the pain of the past. I learned how to finally forgive myself for the hardships and the mental and emotional pain I had inflicted upon myself and endured from others.

I rediscovered the importance of not comparing myself to others. Although I am nowhere near the perfectionist I once was, I still fell into the trap of comparing myself to other women in various ways – physically, spiritually, intellectually, professionally, etc. I stopped following people and groups on social media that served to be a source of unhealthy comparison rather than positive inspiration.

I experienced the beautiful power of relationships. Throughout my life, I have had the opportunity to meet and know some truly amazing people, and firmly believe in the idea that people have come into my life for “a reason, a season, or a lifetime”. I have been especially thankful for the people in my life who have supported me and cheered me on during this turbulent season of life. These people have helped me to remember who I am and who I wanted to get back to being. For their love, support, and encouragement, I am forever grateful.

Finally, and most importantly, I was patient with myself. As fantastic as it would’ve been if I had woken up after the end of the first week or even the first month, thrown off the covers, and announced, “I’m baaaack! All better!”, that didn’t happen. Sometimes it seemed like I was moving backwards and sometimes I felt like I wasn’t moving at all towards feeling better. Then there were the “A-HA!” moments and days that I could feel myself moving forward that helped me to know I was on the right track. There were the glimpses of the “me” that I had been missing that motivated me to keep working.

Three hundred eighteen days and counting. (Because I’m working every day to maintain my progress…I haven’t put in all this work to go back to where I was!)

Why have I worked so hard to gain control over my overall health for the last three-hundred eighteen days?

Simple. (Kind of.)

I did it for me.

Because I deserve it. I deserve to feel good physically, mentally, and emotionally. Because God didn’t create me to lead a life of sadness, hopelessness, frustration, and gloom. Taking care of myself – mind, body, and soul – has helped me to love who I am again. It’s helped me to be a much better wife, mother, daughter, sister, friend, and advocate. Taking care of myself benefits everyone in my life. 

I know that I’m not alone in feeling lost, alone, unhappy, burned out, etc. My hope for anyone reading this thinking, “Where do I start?” Start where you’re at. Make today your Day 1. Your journey will most likely look very different from mine, but you’ll never know what yours looks like until you start. Once you start, take it day-by-day, hour-by-hour, minute-by-minute. You’re worth every second.     

When He’s Ready

Last week, I took my kids to their pediatrician for their yearly wellness checks. 

Josie went first and got a clean bill of health with instructions to eat more fruits and veggies. 

Moses went next and squirmed like the wiggle worm he is while the doctor checked his heart, ears, and throat. 

When the doctor had Moses lay down with his head on my lap so he could check whatever needed to be checked in his nether regions, Moses put up a little fight and about kicked the doctor in his own nether regions. 

When the doctor pulled Moses’ pants down and saw his diaper, he said something to the effect of “I see potty training isn’t going well.” 

I was a little taken aback and explained that we’ve gone through spurts of Moses being interested over the last year and have had off-and-on success with getting him to go on the potty, but overall, he’s not really into it yet. 

The doctor’s response?

“So he’s lazy.”

This time I was a lot taken aback and said nothing. 

But just because I didn’t say anything doesn’t mean I wasn’t thinking plenty of things, including that I wish Moses would’ve kicked a little harder a few seconds before. I almost asked, “Do you mean he’s lazy or I am?” Because let’s face it, Moses isn’t going to take potty training matters into his own hands. 

So what did I do?

I came home, felt guilty that my kid wasn’t potty trained yet because I had allowed him to be lazy, and began mentally preparing myself to have him potty trained by Christmas. 

Monday morning I got the pull-ups out and started making Moses sit on the toilet every 10 – 15 minutes. One time he peed. The other times he yelled and made it clear he did not appreciate being on the toilet. By the end of the day, he was happily in his diaper and I was feeling sane again.

Here’s the thing. I know my son. I know him much better than this man who sees him a handful of times a year. I know that him not being potty trained has more to do with him not being ready than either of us being lazy. Could I put him through potty training boot camp and force him to become potty trained? Probably. But again, I know my son and I know that this approach is not the best for him. (Or for me for that matter.) 

He’s just not ready. 

Would I love for Moses to be potty trained? 

Well, yeah. I’ve never met a parent who says, “Changing diapers is my favorite.” Especially when the child can contort and twist and put up a fight like none other. 

From what I’ve learned about potty training kids with Down syndrome, it’s pretty common for them to be closer to 5 or 6 before it really clicks for them for a variety of reasons: cognitive ability, bladder control, realizing the sensation of needing to go, etc. 

Some kids with Down syndrome are successfully potty trained by the time they’re 3 or 4. Which is fantastic for them! And another piece of evidence that God didn’t use a cookie cutter when making our kids. I’ve also read accounts of parents in which their child with Down syndrome was seemingly potty trained for a while and then suddenly reverted back to being in diapers. 

I know that other parents have different theories and ideas about potty training for kids with and without Down syndrome. And I hope that those work well for them. 

This experience has once again reminded me that while books and doctors may say what my child “should” being doing by certain ages, and that other people may have opinions about what he’s ready for, I know him best. He depends on me to do what’s best for him, not what’s best in the eyes of or for the convenience of others. I hope other parents remember that, too, whether their child has a disability or not. 

I know he’s going to knock potty training out the park. Just like he’s done for learning to drink out of a straw, crawl, walk, go up and down the stairs, use a spoon (and a fork when he feels like it), and a whole host of other things. Just like he will do with talking, reading, writing, riding a bike, and whatever else he sets out to accomplish.

It will happen.

When he’s ready.

Words Matter

suffer (verb – used with object): to undergo, be subjected to, or endure (pain, distress, injury, loss, or anything unpleasant)

Dictionary.com

This afternoon I was somewhat paying attention to the Philadelphia Eagles v Green Bay Packers game that was playing on the TV while I was in the kitchen. When the sportscasters began talking about the different cleats players were wearing to raise money and awareness for different causes, I paid a little closer attention. When the reporter for the game focused on the cleats worn by Alex Singleton of the Eagles, I thought it was pretty cool that they were for the Special Olympics. The reporter went on to explain why he chose to support that organization:

Because his older sister “suffers from Down syndrome.”

The advocate alarms instantly went off in my brain.

I immediately went to work looking up who was announcing that game, and I learned the reporter’s name.

Next, I Googled the reporter’s name and found the links for her social media accounts.

I’ll be honest in that as I was doing my research, my first impulse was to blast her on her social media accounts and mine. I was even going to sign up on Twitter for the occasion.

However, by the time Google had given me the information I was looking for, I had calmed down (a little) and had decided that I wouldn’t blast her on her social media accounts. Instead, I would just send her a message on Facebook and hope that she saw it and took it to heart.

Hi Ms. Wolfson,

I was watching the Green Bay v Philadelphia game, and I heard you commenting on Alex Singleton wearing Special Olympic cleats today in honor of his sister, Ashley. You said that she “suffers from Down syndrome”. As a parent of a child with Down syndrome, I am going to encourage you to refrain from using that phrase ever again. My guess is that Ashley, like my son Moses, does not suffer at all from having an extra chromosome. She is a person with Down syndrome, living with Down syndrome, and from the sounds of it, thriving with Down syndrome. There is no suffering about it. My guess is that you meant no harm or offense by your choice of words, but please take into consideration that your choice of words impacts how others may view Down syndrome. Seeing as how 67% of parents choose to abort a baby upon learning it has Down syndrome, we have to work intentionally to highlight the beauty and value people with Down syndrome bring to our society. 💙💛

Respectfully yours,

Jenny Moyers

I also sent her a picture of Moses and me from a recent trip to the zoo in which we were both smiling and clearly not suffering.

Riding the train at the St. Louis Zoo

There is no pain, distress, injury, loss, or anything unpleasant being endured here simply because Moses has an extra chromosome.

The only time I would say any of us have come close to suffering as a result of Moses having Down syndrome was when we feared we were going to lose him as a baby to RSV.

I don’t expect to get a reply from Ms. Wolfson. I don’t expect her to publicly acknowledge her error in speaking about a person with Down syndrome.

What I do hope is that she never says it again.

I hope she understands how much words matter.

In some cases, they can literally mean the difference between life and death.

For Those In Education

I have a favor to ask.

It’s no secret that our healthcare workers are overwhelmed and exhausted – physically, mentally, and emotionally. They need our support and prayers now more than ever.

I want to ask that you remember to also support and pray for those in education right now.

There are so many people in education that are also being tested day in and day out during this time.

Teachers

Administrators

Administrative assistants

Counselors

Social workers

Custodians

Cafeteria staff

Athletic directors

Therapists

Literacy aides

Paraprofessionals

Classroom aides

Coaches

There are so many people who are on the front lines in education that are working tirelessly to continue to provide not just an education but also a safe place for students and staff to go to every day. These men and women are being asked to put the welfare of others before their own.

It’s not easy, but they’re doing it.

Just like those in healthcare, these people need support and prayers now more than ever, too. And just like those in healthcare, they’re also often the least likely to ask for help.

It doesn’t have to be much. Just something to let them know that you know they’re in the trenches, that you’re thinking of them and supporting them.

Send an encouraging message. Or a funny one. A smile can literally change the way your brain feels, and laughter is good for the soul.

Drop off a snack or meal that they don’t have to prepare. Or booze.

Send a card. Homemade ones are best.

If anything else, pray for them. Pray for them to have the health and strength to continue showing up and serving the students they love.

Friends and Buddies…Bro Dogs

I finally watched The Peanut Butter Falcon yesterday.  

If you haven’t heard of it, it’s a movie that features a young man with Down syndrome pursuing his dream of going to a wrestling school run by his favorite wrestler. And by pursuing, I mean running away from the retirement home he was confined to. 

Since it came out last summer, I had heard good things about the movie and how it promotes inclusion of people with Down syndrome. 

(In the educational world, inclusion is one of the current buzzwords. I really like this definition of inclusive mindset: “A non-judgmental belief that all individual experiences are valuable and are met with empathy, compassion and emotional intelligence.”) (https://images.app.goo.gl/5ypPJ96WrXCLWqcT8)

The thing that I absolutely loved about the movie was how Zak, the person with Down syndrome, was treated by Tyler, his travel companion. 

It was not what I expected. 

I figured it would be one of those stories in which the typically-developing person went through a personal transformation and changed his perception of people with Down syndrome by the end of the movie.

To my surprise, Tyler had an inclusive mindset. 

He treated Zak like a normal person from the get-go. 

Yes, he saw that Zak had Down syndrome. He also saw that he was alone. He literally had nothing other than his underwear and a goal. 

Tyler could empathize with that. He didn’t have anyone or much of anything, either.

He showed Zak compassion rather than pity or disdain. 

He showed emotional intelligence in that he developed a relationship with Zak for the person he is. He acknowledged Zak’s Down syndrome but it wasn’t what he focused on. 

One of my favorite lines in the movie was early on when Tyler told him,

“I ain’t doing no charity shit, it’s just on my way.”

(The Peanut Butter Falcon)

People with Down syndrome are not charity cases. They are not tickets to viral internet videos and 5-minutes of fame. They are not a means to help yourself feel good by befriending them. They are not accessories to invite to parties to boost your reputation as being “inclusive”. 

The relationship that developed between Zak and Tyler is what I pray for Moses to have in his life. 

That he has friends who want to hang out with him and include him because he’s an awesome, fun kid. Not because he has Down syndrome and they’re supposed to be nice to kids with disabilities. 

That he has friends who talk to him like a person. That they don’t dumb things down and insult his intelligence. That they don’t take advantage of the times when he doesn’t understand fully what they’re saying and mock him. 

I pray that he has relationships with people who love and care about him for who he is wholly. Not only because he has Down syndrome. 

I know it was a movie, but the relationship that Zak and Tyler had is what I want for Moses in real life. 

I pray that he finds his own  “…friends and buddies…bro dogs…” (The Peanut Butter Falcon)

The Peanut Butter Falcon. Directors Tyler Nilson and Michael Schwartz. 2019. Film.

Early Education in Down Syndrome

This week I got to Zoom with my 4th grade students during their Counseling time. It was so great to get to see their faces and hear their voices! We weren’t Zooming just so they could sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to me, though. We were Zooming so we could talk about Down syndrome.

October is Down Syndrome Awareness Month and it’s also the month my school district celebrates Disabilities Awareness Week. It’s one of my favorite weeks/months of the school year because I love getting to teach my kids that having a disability does not mean there is something wrong with a person. It means that there is something different with the way a person’s body or mind, or sometimes both, work. We learn about different types of disabilities while always keeping our focus on the fact that a person with a disability is a person that deserves to be treated with kindness and respect.

For each class I gave them a basic explanation of the chromosomes and the extra copy people with Down syndrome have, some of the differences that causes for their brain and body, and how much they are able to learn to do when given the chance. Then I asked if anyone had questions about Down syndrome.

The students in the class I Zoomed with on Tuesday morning were either still half asleep, bored to tears, and/or experts on Down syndrome already so none of them had questions.

By Tuesday afternoon, I was questioning whether or not it was worth doing the next two days. If the information I was sharing with them was appropriate and meaningful or just falling on deaf ears. If spending the time talking with them would even make a difference.

As I Zoomed with another class on Wednesday morning, I could tell the students were a little more engaged as I went over the same basic information. When I invited them to ask questions, hands quickly went up into the air.

“Is it similar to autism?”

“Can you catch Down syndrome from someone who has it?”

“Is it rare?”

“Can it be cured?”

It was awesome! I answered their questions the best I could and loved the effort they were giving in trying to understand Down syndrome.

Today’s session was good, too. One student asked if kids with Down syndrome behaved worse than other kids, and another asked if kids with Down syndrome could breathe okay.

It was yesterday’s session, though, that helped me to know that doing this wasn’t a waste of time.

Down syndrome isn’t rare. It’s the most common chromosomal condition that occurs in babies. About 1 in every 700 babies are born with Down syndrome. That number would be higher but unfortunately approximately 67% of women choose to terminate their pregnancy following a prenatal diagnosis.

There is no cure for Down syndrome. And as I told my students, I wouldn’t want there to be one. Because if Moses didn’t have that extra chromosome, he wouldn’t be Moses. Same goes for a lot of other awesome people with Down syndrome.

My hope is that one or more (or all) of those amazing young kids will grow up and make a difference in the life of someone with Down syndrome.

Maybe one of them will be a doctor who tells expectant mothers, “Your baby has Down syndrome. I know this news is unexpected and not necessarily what you wanted to hear, but I want you to know that there is no reason to believe that your child won’t lead a very fulfilling life.”

A nurse that says, “Congratulations! You baby is beautiful and perfect.”

A teacher who says, “Let’s see what works best for you so that you can learn as much as you can while you’re in my class.”

A policy maker that understands people with Down syndrome deserve fair access to things like life insurance and organ transplants.

An employer that welcomes people with Down syndrome to work at their business in a capacity that is appropriate for them. That provides the training and opportunity for them to be successful and contribute to the success of the business.

A friend who accepts a person with Down syndrome for who he or she is. Who isn’t nice because you’re supposed to be nice to people with disabilities but because she truly enjoys being around him.

A partner or spouse who resists the urge to bail upon hearing the diagnosis. Who chooses to stay and love and support the mother and child through all the ups and downs.

A mother who refuses to abort the life growing inside her. Who chooses to love her baby unconditionally regardless of the number of chromosomes it has. Who chooses to focus on all that her child will be able to do when the world wants to tell her all about what it won’t be able to do. 

In the world of Down syndrome, we are taught that early intervention is key for the successful development of our children.

I believe that early education is also essential for progress to continue to be made when it comes to the Down syndrome community. Talk to your kids. Teach them about Down syndrome and other disabilities so that when they find themselves around someone who has an extra chromosome, who might sound a little “funny” when he talks, who needs a little extra time to understand what she’s hearing, or whose brain or body works a little differently in other ways, they know what to do.

Be kind. 

Show respect. 

Choose love.

A Letter to Mrs. Cordelia

In honor of Down Syndrome Awareness Month, I want to share about one of my special role-models, Mrs. Cordelia Conn, through a letter I’ve written countless times to her in my head: 

Dear Mrs. Cordelia,

You had no idea, but you were one of the early pioneers and advocates for people with Down syndrome and a personal role model for me. And you did it simply by being the best mom you could be to Patrick.

When I was younger, I always admired you. You had a confidence about you that even a young girl like me could pick up on. You had the sense of humor that was essential in being a mother of seven. There was a genuineness and openness about you that just felt safe. You told it like it was without a cloud of anger or judgment hanging over your statements. 

What I remember most, though, was how you were with Patrick. How you acted like he was a normal human being that belonged anywhere he wanted to be and especially belonged wherever you were – church, parties, Boomland, etc. You didn’t try to hide that he had Down syndrome, and you didn’t emphasize it, either. You made it clear that Patrick was not a person to be pitied or coddled. You had expectations of him and didn’t make excuses for him when he did or said something you didn’t approve of. Most importantly, you treated him with respect and love, and I saw that. 

Neither one of us knew it yet, but God did. He knew that I needed a role-model to look to when I had my own son with Down syndrome. He knew that I needed more than to just know Patrick and see all that he was able to do. He knew I needed to know you. To see you as a mom to Patrick so I would know what kind of mom I would want to be to my own son. 

When I got to sit down and talk with you last September, you told me that you didn’t know that Patrick had Down syndrome until you took him to your family doctor for his first round of routine immunizations when he was two-months-old or older. 

After I picked my jaw up off the floor, I asked you if you thought the doctors and nurses knew he had Down syndrome when he was born, and you said, “Supposedly they did, but they thought maybe I couldn’t handle it. Who knows what their feelings were?” When I asked if he was healthy as a baby, you again just said, “Supposedly.” To say I was shocked to hear these things is a gross understatement because in the world of information overload we live in today, the chances of a baby being born with Down syndrome and it not being communicated to the mother is virtually unfathomable. To not know if he or she had any medical conditions that would need additional medical attention or care. 

But that’s what makes you so incredible. I honestly don’t think it mattered that you didn’t know right away that Patrick had Down syndrome. Because Down syndrome or not, he was your baby and you were going to love and provide for him the best you could. 

You may have only met Moses a handful of times, but your impact on him is much more than the sum of your brief meetings. Because of you, he had a mom that was ready to accept, respect, see, and love him for the person he is and will become. 

As we talked, you were amazed that Moses has been receiving therapies since he was 6-weeks old. That he was about to start preschool and would be going to school just like any other child. Those things were not available for Patrick, but yet you still made sure that he wasn’t just tucked away and dismissed. You gave him the opportunities to grow. To be seen. To be known. 

Along with a journal and some of Patrick’s old books, you gave me an angel to take home to Moses. You told me to put it up so that he couldn’t reach it and so that it could watch over him. I’m thankful to know that he has another even better angel looking over him now. 

Thank you, Mrs. Cordelia. With my whole heart I thank you for being the mom you were to Patrick so I could be the mom I am to Moses. 

Love, 

Jenny (a.k.a. Moses’ mom)

In loving memory of Mrs. Cordelia Ann Rock Conn (1928 – 2019)

Seeing Him

Over the last four years, I’ve heard or read about parents who say “I don’t even see my child’s Down syndrome anymore.” 

Me?

I’m still waiting.

I’ll be honest, in the last 3 years and 11 months, not a day has gone by that I don’t see something about Moses and think about him having Down syndrome. Sometimes it’s a facial expression. Sometimes it’s because I see him working to master a new skill or doing something I’ve never seen him do before. Sometimes it’s because of something totally random and I find myself thinking about Down syndrome and him.

There have been days that I’ve wondered, “What’s wrong with me?”. Why is it that these other parents can look at their child for an entire day and not once think about the fact that he or she has Down syndrome, yet somehow I can’t? 

Then last night it hit me that there’s absolutely nothing wrong with me. There is nothing wrong in me seeing my son for who he is. Seeing all of who he is. Including the extra chromosome that makes him so wonderfully and uniquely him. 

Yes, in so many ways, he really is like any other nearly 4-year-old kid. He makes messes, gets into his sister’s things, throws fits, says “Mom” on repeat throughout the day, and resists going to bed. 

I see that.

I also see his beautiful almond-shaped eyes that all but disappear when he laughs. I hear his muffled speech and celebrate when he says another word more clearly than he did yesterday. I see him work hard to open his yogurt by himself and cheer for himself when he succeeds. I see his smile that can get so big it takes up his entire face. 

Why wouldn’t I want to see those things? 

To say “I don’t see his Down syndrome.” is akin to saying, “I don’t see him.” 

As if having an extra chromosome is wrong. As if there is something wrong with him being fully and completely him. 

I’m no longer going to wonder when the day will come that I won’t see that he has Down syndrome. It’s a part of what makes him my Moses Alexander the Great, and he deserves to be seen.

Where I’m Supposed to Be

I’m where I’m supposed to be.

This is the mantra that has gotten me through this week as I’ve found myself struggling to make sense of life these days. 

This isn’t new territory, either. A couple of months ago, I was going through some old things and I came across a letter I had written to God. I can remember writing it like it was last week instead of 12 years ago. At that time, I was definitely not where I wanted to be. To be honest, I felt like I was on the road to nowhere and I was lost even trying to find my way there. Not exactly what I had pictured my life looking like at 27. 

In the letter, I poured my heart out to God. All the thoughts and feelings of anger and frustration, sadness and loneliness, confusion and fear. I asked Him to help me know what to do to help myself. 

Here I am 12 years later in a much different season of my life yet feeling those same emotions and a little lost again. And this time it’s not just myself I have to worry about. The stakes are definitely much higher now, and my sense of urgency to know what to do to help myself and my family is much more intense.

Where am I? 

I’m at home.

I’m serving my family. I’m cooking meals, washing dishes, doing laundry, and cleaning up messes. I’m cheering for my daughter as she learns to make a lowercase ‘a’ and for my son as he correctly identifies objects when given two choices. I’m rocking outdoor recess duty. I’m snuggling with Josie when she crawls into bed with me each morning and rocking Moses at naptime because he wants me to. I’m taking deep breaths so I don’t completely lose my temper and reminding myself to keep small problems small. I’m asking for hugs and forgiveness when I fail to do both. I’m excited to see my husband when he gets home so I get to talk to an adult and hear about the outside world. 

When I was at work, I would often announce “I’m going to go change lives!” Now I feel like the only thing I’m changing is diapers. 

Believe you me when I say that I NEVER saw myself as a housewife and definitely not as a stay-at-home mom. I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with either of those by any means. It’s hard work and the pay is horrible. I’m one “official” week in and I’m ready to turn in my two-week notice. 

But I’m supposed to be here. Even when I don’t want to wash another dish, it feels right. I don’t have the luxury of knowing why I’m doing exactly what I never wanted to do, but I do have the luxury of trusting that God knows why I’m here and will help me to understand when I’m supposed to. 

Over the last 12 years I have learned that life isn’t about getting where you want to be and staying there. It’s about continuing to live and experience and learn and grow, and that still includes going through some growing pains at times.

I’m where I’m supposed to be

And who knows? This may end up being the best place I’ve been to yet.

The Next Right Thing

A couple of years ago, my church was offering a book to the parishioners called Perfectly Yourself by Matthew Kelly. As a person who spent the first half of her life striving to be perfect in various ways, there was no way I could pass up this book. 

As I began reading, I appreciated how the author described our quest here on Earth as to become the best version of ourselves. And how that might look different from day-to-day. It was as if I was being given permission to be less than perfect. To be human. And for that to be okay as long as I did my best every day to be the best version of myself. 

One of the guiding principles to achieving that goal was to always look to do the next right thing. That sounded simple enough, and it proved very helpful in guiding my decisions at home and at work. Looking back, the season of life I was in was relatively calm (as calm as life can be with two toddlers) and I wasn’t faced with many difficult situations and the concept made its way to the back of my mind. 

I never finished the book even though it stayed right there on the table by my bed. Then a few months ago, I decided to revisit it. 

This time I took my time reading through it and underlining parts that stuck out to me. Today I looked back and found two passages that I had underlined: 

“We seem to spend endless hours planning and worrying about some distant future that is promised to none of us, and yet effortlessly overlook the fact that how we deal with the here and now will determine what the future looks like.” (p. 48)

Little did I know that just a few short months later, I was going to find myself in this exact situation. Where not only was I constantly looking ahead and trying to prevent my worst nightmare from happening, I was focused more on what I could not control (i.e. other people) than on what I could (i.e. myself). The result was that I was mentally and emotionally drained. I felt lonely and frustrated and defeated at almost every turn. And then I came to the point where I couldn’t go on like that. It wasn’t healthy for me, and it wasn’t healthy for my family which I was desperate to protect. 

Which brings me to another passage I had underlined:

“The truth is that we almost always do [know what the next right thing is]. More than 99 percent of the time, you will know what the next right thing for you to do is if you quiet yourself for a moment and go to that place deep within you.” (p. 49) 

In my efforts to try to control the situation and appeal to others to see and do things the way I needed them to, I found myself in the midst of so much noise that I couldn’t hear that place deep within myself that was pointing me towards what was truly the next right thing. To me, giving up fighting for others to protect me so I could protect my family was akin to failing my family. Failing my son. Even though I was exhausted, I faced each day ready to continue my fight. My motto became “I trust God but I don’t trust people”. I spent my time and energy finding people who understood and supported me and growing more and more resentful of those who didn’t. 

Until I stopped. 

Last Saturday morning, I told my husband that I needed ten minutes of quiet before he left for a few hours. I went outside and sat on the steps and asked God to help me to know what to do. What the next right thing was. Because what I thought was the right thing for me to do wasn’t working. 

I wish I could say that the clouds parted and I heard a voice from above telling me exactly what I needed to do. How cool would that have been? In reality, after my ten minutes were up, I muddled my way through the rest of the morning most of the afternoon. 

It wasn’t until later that afternoon when I was taking some more time to sit in the quiet after talking to Tyson that I was able to start getting an idea of what the next right thing was for me to do. Somewhere in that quiet, I was finally able to hear the answer. Somewhere in the quiet, my heart and mind were open to the possibility that the next right thing for me was not at all what I had in mind. 

At this point I wish I could say that all felt right with the world and it was smooth sailing from there. Unfortunately, knowing and doing the next right thing isn’t always easy. Even though I did feel a calming sense of peace knowing that I was going to be heading in the right direction, there was still a certain level of anxiety that things were not going to work out the way I wanted and the consequences of that. Especially knowing that other people other than myself and my family would be impacted. 

Now that decisions have been made and action has been taken, there is a part of my heart that is hurting and disappointed while a part of it is relieved and contented. But in the end, doing the next right thing has put me where I’m supposed to be. It is not what I had envisioned or hoped for, and what lies ahead is still unknown. However, I can already see signs of how God has prepared me and my family for this exact season of life I now find myself in. And it’s all because I had the courage to be quiet, listen to Him, and do the next right thing.

My hope for you is that when you’re faced with a choice, you will choose the next right thing for you. Sometimes it’s easy to know what that is, and sometimes is incredibly difficult. In those times, I hope you will be able to find some time and space to be quiet (even if it’s just ten minutes) so you can listen deep down for the answer that will guide you in the right direction.

Source: Kelly, M. (2017). Perfectly yourself: Discovering God’s dream for you. North Palm Beach, FL: Beacon Publishing.