We all face problems. That doesn’t mean they define us.
I wade out of the pond and my skin tingles in the cool air as I slip out of my bathing suit and into warmer clothes. Bob offers me a turn in the kayak, but I refuse. He and Ula paddle off. Dusky perches on their stern and watches over them, thrilling in the glide across the water. Saoirse is already on the far side in her own boat, exploring a beaver damn. I towel my hair, then nestle down next to the waters’ edge and watch the moon rise in the east before me as the sun sets behind me, illuminating the conifers across the way.
We don’t go away for summer vacations like many families. Rather, we take our vacations in place, in moments like this, in the last two hours before sunset. We wash away the heat of the day by taking off to the farm pond, or on this night, to one of the hidden waterways up in the state land, paddles and bathing suits in hand.
In this moment, my vacation is to watch my husband and my daughters drift across the lake, the stresses of the day forgotten. Each time a paddle touches the water, one more item on the calendar, one more chore on the to-do list is out of mind, making mental room for the moment at hand — identifying a bird call, watching a fish jump, steering the boat.
But while their soft chatter-in-the-moment skips across the water, my mind drifts briefly to the week ahead. Bob goes in for his quarterly diabetes check-up. We drive Ula to Boston for yet another eye exam. We take Saoirse down to Woodstock to have a doctor look at her back. Dad goes in for his second spine surgery. It promises to be an annoying weak, served up with some moments of fear, some moments of insight, some moments of joy, some moments of tears. And a hearty helping of worry.
I breathe deeply and listen as the first thrushes begin to sing out from the forest behind me. The song sparrows make a few feeble attempts to upstage them, but the thrush’s songs won’t be outdone. Cicadas chatter along the north side of the water, crickets chirp to the south.
I am not as frightened of this week as I once would have been. I remember when I first starting hearing diagnoses of this and that — type I, dyslexia, visual impairment, arthritis. They absorbed my attention. I fought them. I read everything I could. They dominated my mind, my every conversation. In many ways, they became me.
I think that happens to lots of parents in my peer group. If we are lucky enough to have loved ones close in our lives, then their problems become part of our own identities. We stop being ourselves. We become our fears and our problems — the mothers, daughters and wives of people with special needs.
But sitting by the waterside, I see the folly in that. We are all handed a set of obstacles to confront in life. With them come important lessons: how to ask for help, how to care for ourselves, how to see the world differently. And while the lessons define who we are as human beings, the problems themselves do not. And to allow them to form our identity is a grave mistake, robbing ourselves from true self knowledge, from the wondrous thrill of simply being on this planet.
And that leads me to wonder, as the sun sinks lower and the moon rises higher…If my identity is not the sum of my troubles, then who, exactly, am I?
I am the sum of my life experiences.
I am the rising moon and the setting sun, the tap of the oar along the side of the boat, the cicadas in the north, crickets in the east, thrushes in the west. I am the chatter of my daughters’ voices bouncing off the still water; my husband’s hands when he comes to find me in morning prayer, coaxing me back to bed with him. I am sour cherry pie picked from the tree beside my porch, a wild raspberry on a dew-soaked bramble, the dance of my fingers painting words across a page, the smell of wet dog and the grit of dirty paw prints on my lap. My identity is in the moments of a life lived in joy and sadness, in the love that wells up from each pore in my body, in the lessons that come from the problems… But I am not my troubles. I am not my fears.
And this is what I must remember in the week ahead.
Folks – In light of all the events happening, I won’t be blogging for the next few weeks. Assuming all goes well, I’ll be back up and running on August 25th. Thanks for reading, and for sending your best wishes!
Lovely thoughts to meditate on, thank you, Shannon. It will all unfold as it will.
Thank you for taking the time to put words to this…. I have been sitting gazing over the mountains here in Spain ruminating on similar thoughts. Un abrazo
So much love and light headed your way! You’re on the right path, headed in the right direction, and everything (challenges and joy included) will turn out just as it should. xoxo
Peace be upon you and your family. Having a chronic illness myself, I understand the struggles you describe intimately. However, as you wrote, I am not my troubles. Thank you for all your thoughtful words. I wish you and your family joy and healing this week.
I try very hard to live my life with 2 thoughts…..”and lo I am always with you” and ….”In the face of uncertainty, there is nothing wrong with hope”. Wishing you all the best. You are all in my thoughts and prayers😀
I really like these two thoughts that you mentioned. They are truly inspiring. I feel like this post really expresses just how much having a positive outlook on life can change your life for the better. It allows us to see that we are not the only ones with struggles in our lives. Some have it way worse than we do, and we need to be considerate of that when letting our hardships take over us. Hope and faith are the answers!
My thoughts and prayers are with you and your family during this difficult week. You give so much to your community and others via your writing. Now is a time for you to let our love and support envelop you. You have the wonderful gift of being able to touch people with your writing. I hope our comments and good wishes will touch you in the same way and you will feel the love and kind thoughts from all of us who have come to know and love you.
Beautiful…thank you for this and the reminder and messages it contains.
THANK YOU, Shannon! You expressed what I am learning in a soul-touching way that encouraged me in my own set of circumstances. I will be remembering you and your family this week in prayer and I am sending blessings your way. Peace be with you and your family.
Thank you for a beautiful post – I am going to write down my identity today as a meditation! Sending prayers and blessings to you and your family.
I’ve carried the label dyslexia my whole life. If I was diagnosed today I would likely be on the autism spectrum.
I would highly recommend reading the book “The Gift of Dyslexia” by Ronald Davis. It changed the way I look at my so called disorder. Everything has it’s up side. Cheers. 🙂
I loved the picture of sitting by that water, watching the end of the day. Just reading about it brought me to my own moments of being present.
I like to imagine all the creatures and even the plants knowing the world through their various senses and all that awareness making up the consciousness of the whole living planet. I feel safe somehow being a part of that. But it is interesting that the one animal that has the greatest capacity to be conscious of what it senses and feels, we human beings, have the hardest time actually being present as ourselves in the moment. And yet that might be part of what we contribute to the whole picture. I find being present easier to do sitting quietly in nature, even my small garden. I start paying attention to all the other living things existi;ng in their world, doing what they do, not worrying, carrying on all the neccesary processes. Slowly I am able to settle into my own present moment.
Being one with nature can be the best therapy at times. Sometimes all one needs to do is sit down, relax, forget about everything else except for that moment and take in the wonderful creations of God. Just a moment to be thankful for being blessed with the life we have.
You don’t know me but I feel like i know you a little. I’ve been reading your blog for years! I just wanted to send you some positive vibes and well wishes from my little corner in this world. Love xxx
Once again, Shannon, you speak with great openness, awareness and gentleness. Thank you. You’ll be in my thoughts.
I absolutely love this! Being only in my twenties, I have already faced many hardships in life, but never let my faith in God go astray. I believe that the strongest of people are given the most difficult of situations. We are not defined by our circumstances, but by how we overcome them. This is definitely something that I want to instill into my future children. That they can overcome whatever they face in life. Absolutely beautiful!