That’s how I roll…

18 Apr That’s how I roll…

See earlier post for Gathering of the Titans.

 It get’s better.  A buddy from Gathering of Titans just sent me an e-mail with the title “That’s how I roll….”   in reference to this post.  That is really funny if you were there as there is a Scottish meaning… heh heh.. 

 

The story I told about my son gets better.  Deeper.  More meaningful.  The day after my friend Chuck walked Sebastian around the grounds turning over logs, he took me aside and thanked me for the experience.  He said Sebastian reminded him to start being curious.. to turn over logs.   He said this with such depth – my words are POOR in recreating them here.  He said it was transformational.

I started to cry.  Started to say something.  I couldn’t.  

The next day, Chuck picked Sebastian up and walked to the front of the lecture hall and told the entire room the story.  My knees were shaking and I was crying.  Watching my little boy playing with a musical instrument while this man teared up.  I looked at the room.  Beautiful faces watched and listened to him.  That room became family to me and my son in just a few days. 

What is amazing about that story is what I was thinking when Chuck asked if he could take Sebastian for a walk.  I was thinking at that moment “Is my son going to be okay.  As a single mom.. is he going to have enough male influence….”   Yes.  He will. 

 It gets better.  At that lunch table while Sebastian was going on his nature hike Sir John told me tales of his amazing mom who was a pilot in the 20’s.  (1920 my dears.. wow) and how he was Sebastian.  He went places with her.  He made me cry several times as I listened to his tales.

As I got up to go catch up with Sebastian, he said “I love that you do not helicopter your son.”  Huh?  What?  “You don’t hover over him.”

I chuckled to myself.  Well, I kinda do.  I try not to.  I still do sometimes.

That night Sir John spoke to our group.  He told of the loss of his two year old daughter in a car accident.  I’m in the back bawling my eyes out.  Just then, Jennifer text messages me that she is taking Sebastian in the car to the aquarium. 

Oh no!  Car.  I run out the door and stop her. Sir John’s story is a sign.. I gotta stop them!!!!

 When I burst in the door of the room.. I run over to hug my two-year old.  He reaches up.. hugs me.. and hands me……

I swear to you….

a toy helicopter.

He says, “Here mommy, you can keep this.”

He really enjoyed the aquarium and I TRULY enjoyed the rest of Sir JOhn’s talk.

Such beauty in the world when we pay attention y’all.  These stories happen everyday when we pay attention.  This blog is so I remember them.  It really isn’t for you.  (sorry)

Yesterday, someone close to me called me a liar.  They had heard me tell the same story differently and they were sure I was just making things up.  It hurts.  (They couldn’t tell me how I told it differently or what was different about it though.  Hmmm.)

They said, “I don’t believe you” about 5 times.  Then started rapid firing questions:  Did you really collect 3 times the industry average? (Yeah.  The industry average at that time was 9.9% and we collected 32.2% – and that was a moment in time.  Not everyday and not every client.  Sometimes we didn’t.  The truth of the matter is – being nice collected more assets.  Period. )   Did you really speak in front of the legislature- you sometimes call it a meeting and sometimes call it a speech:  (Yeah.  Sometimes I really sucked at it too.  I had clothing malfuntions a handful of times too.  I was wearing a red dress – I wore it a lot.  I used to call it a suit and realized it was actually a coat dress.  I sometimes worked on bills I am embarassed to admit now. )    I could go on.  I won’t.

I am a liar.  My memory remembers things differently than they happened when I relieve them.  So does yours.  Each time I relive a story another detail creeps in.  Sometimes my stories amalgamate and I am really unclear what came first the chicken or the egg.

They all happened.  That is for sure.

We microscope each other in this world.  We pick each other apart and search for ways not to trust and love.  We do it constantly and I am just plain sick of it.  When we lose confidence we look outside ourselves to BLAME or externalize what is happening for us and find a scapegoat.  I do it too.  It is a waste of time.

What if EVERY human on the planet chose to BUILD and improve rather than blame.

Build not blame

build not blame

What if we started trusting each other.  Not looking for ways we are bad.  In that room in Boston I felt so much love and caring.  When I got on the plane I felt myself starting to mistrust it .. build an exoskeleton around it. 

NO!  That is not going to happen.  Not here.

The story I just told you – the 70 folks in the room might remember it a little differently.  (Christina there were 72 people in the room.)  (They weren’t logs he was rolling over they were branches.)  (There was no Sir before his name.) (they were going to the movies not the Aquarium.)  blah blah blah.

The liar accusation has impacted my writing.  I fear writing something that isn’t exactly right so I am stifled.  Professionalism.  If I can just do it perfect than I will not be attacked.  This is killing us in our culture.  Fear ridicule mistrust fear.

Attack me.  This is my perspective and my life.  I see the world through a pair of glasses that paint things beautiful.  It is my reality. 

My son got a tick from rolling down the hill.  If it turns into Lyme’s disease couldn’t my earlier post be clear evidence that my memory of that day was wrong?  No.

 I am worried.  I am worried to develop a tough exoskeleton that will protect me from the world.  I don’t need one. 

I can tell a great story – I’m hoping after the attack I still can cuz this one is told in such a vanilla way I’m not even sure you got the depth of how amazing it was. 

Sigh.

I have a new sign I wear on my forehead-

If you need me to be perfect – I am not the person for you. 

I’m okay with that.