When your 9 year old calls B.S. on you, challenging your Spiritual beliefs.


 

 

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As we sat around the table, eating dinner last night Jax asked me, ” What’s the deal with all this GOD STUFF?! Your, like SUPER religious now!”His smooth, soft, pre-man hands hovered over his head as he spoke. They drew the shape of a half dome in the air around us. Like the image of Jesus you see on all the traditional Hallmark Christmas cards.
Stunned into silence, I poured my attention all over him. Exploring his face, the little mouth that declared I am now “religious.” Why did hearing him say that bother me?
 “I haven’t dragged you to church or sat you down to read the Bible or anything! Do you mean Spiritual? I have always been this way…Spiritual, I mean.”
My words fell into the veggie lasagna, short of making it into his ears and into his heart. They bounced off the force-shield he had around him. Jax had anticipated my explanation taking its usual esoteric turn about humanity. About the Rising consciousness bursting forth, and our place in it. How we must do more than embrace the Rising, but push it forward as well.

“You ALWAYS talk about God blessings, Grace, and practicing Gratitude. None of that helps. None of that matters in making my life better.” Jax, age 9

“You ALWAYS talk about God blessings, Grace, and practicing Gratitude. None of that helps. None of that matters in making my life better.” Jax’s eyebrow raised, declaring authority over the matter at hand.
“The goal isn’t to take time out to pray. It is to BE in a constant state of prayer; To BE…connected to God-source. Always.” My words felt void of power, fluttering around the table like petals of a dying flower.
“That is IMPOSSIBLE when God never shows up to help me.” Jax replied as if it were the end of the conversation.
Mike dropped his head and became over interested in the green beans on his dinner plate. “Here it comes…” said the thought bubble over his head. Luke, Ziva and I looked at each other, wide-eyed. It was as if a founding member of your club cast his members jacket at your feet. WTF?! My mind was humming- teachable moment- teachable moment. How can I get him to remember another time when he didn’t feel like this?! What should I say or do next?? I had nothing! I went to a place of bruised ego. Defeated, I told him I could leave him out of our discussions about God, the Universe and our choices made within it. I would be mindful not to include him in our spiritual rituals. No more Morning Intention God Blessings. I could even leave him out of the 3 G’s before bed (Gratitude, Evening God Blessings and Goodnight protection prayer).
….not my best moment in reflecting compassion, whoops.

“What if God has been with you the whole time? Helping you live a better life? …Because She is always there, you don’t know what it is like to be without her.”

Luke broke the silence and asked Jax, “What if God has been with you the whole time? Helping you live a better life? …Because She is always there, you don’t know what it is like to be without her. Maybe, you should practice NOT connecting with God for a week and see what happens. Maybe, you life will get SUPER Crappy!” He revealed with the excitement of a Mad Scientist.
Whoa. They do listen. They do remember. They know how to find their own way. My lesson, Again: Lips together. It is not about me and having all the answers. Sometimes, it’s about leaning back and not leaning in so hard.
I have been “doubling down” since January. Fulfilling this need to Push out and not letting the tide Pull me back in. All ocean waves must leave the land and return to the sea. I am remembering too.
My friend and Acutonics teacher says, “Life is a Dance!” Sometimes that Dance takes you to a place of forgeting …and rediscovering ourselves in a whole new way.
May you open your heart and hear the music. Release your toes so they may tap to the beat of the Universe that always has your back. Even if you have decided that you’ve been doing this entire journey alone. Maybe you will find your own Luke, to remind you that those are not your foot prints. That you have been carried the whole time.
Laugh hard. Love strong. Live to serve.
Best!
Kimberly
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Mom on the Move


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Move

/moov/. verb. 1. go in a specified direction or manner; change position. 2. change or cause to change from one state, opinion, sphere, or activity to another.

noun. 1. a change of place, position or state.

My day started with a tearful Jax sullenly dragging his sleepy body back to his bedroom. Mike and I were pajama-less and I told Jax he could hang out with us on top of the covers or go back to bed in his own room. Taking my response as total rejection, iridescent globes of his pure little heart welled up at the edge of his eyes and silently slid down his sun-kissed and freckled cheeks. I struggled to rush through the waking process, trying to use my hands to sit myself up and rub away the sleep all at once, accomplishing neither. His crushing sobs bounced down the hallway which contorted the sound into an almost laugh or squawk which confused my morning mush-brain even more. By the time I located my robe, haphazardly discarded on Mike’s side of the bed, and plodded down the hall to my middle son’s room; I found him cocooned in 3 layers of blankets. Consoled by his stuffies, which were dutifully snuggled underneath his chin. One of his favorites, a corn-flower blue fuzzy bunny shielded Jax’s eye with a floppy ear. His face full of peace. I would have thought I dreamt the whole event had there not been the telling streaks of dried tears on his freckled face. Jax had been sleep walking again.

Like the other moments before, Jax would not remember this interaction. I, however, am left with the feeling of moving through a moment without being able to … i don’t know… what am I left with? A moment that I am experiencing alone, and yet not alone? So… weird.

On todays agenda was to hike with a new friend. We became acquainted through Jax’s friendship with her son: a really fun, spirited kid Jax loves to be around.

We had talked about getting together to hike for weeks. I had noticed something going on with her. Today she confides that she and her husband are separated with the intention of divorce. My heart felt so heavy for her. One look in here eyes and I could see the steps she walked were made with thoughtfulness and intent. Yet, I wanted to take her hand and start to just run. Run down the block and jump off the concrete street as if it were a runway and take off into the brilliant sapphire sky. I wanted to help her glide through the clouds and have the wind wick away the tears and hurt she was so honestly showcasing despite our fledgling friendship.

Instead, we hiked; we took off into the winding paths of Lake Chabot. As we talked and pumped our healthy legs to the rhythm of our raw truths, the world looked like velvet. The landscape, a blanket for our honest and raw words to softly land, despite the sweat-filled pounding of our feet. It was as if we were the toddlers Mother Earth held close to her belly and let us beat our fists against.

As our hearts pumped with action both verbal and physical, we were safe. Discovering new pieces of each other and realizing how alike we may be. I tried to keep my listening ears on and not talk so much or offer my suggestions; just listen. I didn’t do as well as I wanted too. I did my best in that moment.

I felt honored she shared such an intimate moment with me and trusted me enough to be so real. When I looked at her, as we finished our walk, I saw such a strong woman -walking in the present and toward the future she had not foreseen -with the purpose of being the best woman and mother she can be.

I was moved. Empowered, I hope to model some of her strength and intention into my day. What am I not doing for myself that I should be doing? What is the truth that I am not speaking? What actions am I not holding myself accountable for?

Maybe my feeling of being challenged by my sister-in-laws comment of “having all the extra time now that Ziva is in school, why was I not writing?” she asked, “What am I filling my time up with these other projects if writing is what I am passionate about?” Instead of saying, “good question!” I felt defensive and dismissed it. Now, in this moment… I see what she sees; why am I not being true to myself and putting this passion first (or even 5th!) No one is asking me to be a martyr or to have the cleanest house on the block.

Working on being real, letting people in and learning to trust and share my inner thoughts is what I should be practicing. Not worrying about what people will think if my kitchen floor has layers of dog hair, squashed strawberry tops and coffee grounds. If they are real friends, they will know that 3 kids, 2 dogs, 1 cat and a busy husband leads to an always moving household.

Though I love the pictures in my Dwell magazine and Architect Digest, they are no match for the epic pillow fights that spontaneously erupt in my front room. Or the awesome dance parties we have to shake off a funky day.

It is only 1:18PM and already I have learned a lot…the day is not nearly over. I am excited to go, walk, proceed, progress, advance, change, budge, shift, act; to Move.

What about you?

Laugh hard. Love strong. Live to serve!

Best!

Kimberly Crawford