IN THIS TOGETHER â—½ MARRIAGE
Digging Into Hope
by Bekah Holland
December…the month of perpetual hope. Also the month of perpetual anxiety, but I try really really REALLY hard to focus on the hope part. Because my regular, every day anxiety is plenty, thank you very much. But there is always so much to do and this time of year seems to fly by so quickly that I rarely know what day it is. Although to be fair, it’s not often that I ever know what day it is, so I can’t really blame that on the holidays.
This time of year is such a juxtaposition in my little world. I both look forward to and dread it equally. I love spending time with my family, even though we are as opposite as night and day, or any other comparison that shows how different we are. I love to give. I love being able to do things for others and splurge a little on the people in my life. I’ve been thinking about this more over the last couple of years, because these years have been HARD. Our family has been stretched in ways that have been very humbling. Personally, mentally, emotionally, financially. Giving has looked a lot differently for us. It’s looked like giving space when we need to not be okay for a little while. Sometimes it’s looked like volunteering in our community. At times, it’s even looked like us having to be vulnerable and asking for help so we could give our kids the things they needed. In case anyone is wondering, asking for help is not in the top 178 things I’m good at. Funny enough it is pretty high up on my list of things I tell other people is a sign of strength and not weakness, but apparently I’m much better at telling other people things than following my own advice. If you are rolling your eyes right now, don’t worry, I’m rolling my eyes at me right now too if that makes you feel any better.
But all of this has also taught me, albeit painfully, to look at gifts from a different perspective. This is because, while I can’t give much in the stuff that costs actually money category, I can give in other ways. To my kids, I can give them my undivided attention. I tend to try to do all the things, which means I’m usually doing at least six of them at any given time. And while lots of those things are for them, they deserve to have me, without the baggage I’m usually carrying. They have a busy mom. They compete with a million other distractions, mine and theirs. How many more days do I have where they’re home, and still sometimes want a hug from their mom or to watch funny videos together or just talk about their day? So my gift to them is to do my best to be more present and make our time together matter and mean something.
My husband is getting a similar gift. He unfairly gets what’s left of my busy, multi-tasking, and unfortunately distracted brain. I try to turn all my stuff off when it’s really important or he needs me. But the rest of the time, I find myself giving him my leftovers. Not intentionally of course. But while digging into hope, I ended up realizing a lot about myself, and self-reflection isn’t always easy or fun. It does end up, (if you’re me and have a tendency to dig yourself into rabbit holes and learning that the problem is the person I usually see in the mirror), while humbling, also really helpful. And I can’t always see where I’m falling short. And the person that I stood, sweating, quite literally, through our vows with in Texas summer heat because I’m an idiot who planned an outdoor wedding in July, is the last person who deserves less of my attention. That means for me, I need to be intentional when I sit down with my husband. Even if he is listing college football stats or rolling his eyes as he talks about a player who he’s told me about 87 times and I still can’t remember who it is. Even when I’m busy. Even when I’m tired. I’m not saying that I need to ignore my needs or rest, but I have plenty of time to juggle the other things that life throws our way. I need to remember that our time together is precious and even if I do zone out once we start in on future high school recruits, I need to reign back in to make sure he and I are spending time listening to each other, especially to the things that aren’t being said. Because sometimes those are the most important things to tune in to and recognize when our partner is struggling or needing a reminder of who they are and all they are capable of. I want to be his biggest cheerleader, loudest fan and I can’t do that well when I’m doing mental gymnastics during our little bit of time together that doesn’t overlap with football, life, budgeting and oh, yeah, that little bit of figuring out how to parent our teens. Time is one of our most valuable commodities and I’m on a mission to make sure that I’m using mine in the right place and for the right people. My people. Both blood and chosen family.
So this year, while you may not have the holiday season you had scripted out in your head, you still have plenty of ways to create more opportunities to hope bigger and love better. Also, stop trying to script these events, because as I repeated learn, forget, smack myself for forgetting, try again (wash, rinse, repeat), they never turn out that way and it’s easier to wing it than deal with unmet (and sometimes unrealistic) expectations. Look for the small ways we can show our people that we love them, whether that’s more quality time (I know, we don’t have any, but we’ll find it anyway), more holding hands, more notes in lunch boxes or making their morning coffee. We may not have as much to give when it comes to things that cost money, but we can always give more love, more time, more snuggles.
The dishes will be there long after my kids don’t want to cozy up on the couch with me and a good movie anymore. The grocery list will still be there long after I spend some extra time encouraging my partner, my family, friends and even myself. This is my gift this year, so when I’ve got all the time in the world to do the dishes, and there isn’t nearly as much laundry waiting to be finished, I’ll have the memories I chose to create while letting the chore list that fills up my head wait, instead of the people who fill up my heart.
“Sometimes, you will never know the value of a moment until it becomes a memory.” Dr. Seuss