Hope

I am driving down a winding back road, nearly home. The road twists and turns, cutting its way through the woods, and as always I look at the trees. For months they have been mostly brown and bare, their empty branches lonesome against the backdrop of the sky, the space between them revealing rocks and hills.

But today, I round a curve, and as my eyes take in the view, I notice a change.

Little bursts of color-- yellow, fuschia, green, lavender, and white-- are beginning to appear throughout the branches. The buds are barely there, and many trees are still bare, but still there is the promise.

A promise of spring.
A promise of new life.
A promise of hope.

I had grown so accustomed to the emptiness over time that the change almost comes as a surprise.

The changes of the seasons are quite spiritual to me; they are profound reminders of the natural progression of life. And today, the colorful buds throughout the woods speak to me, reminding me that even when things appear barren, empty, or dead-- there is still, somewhere, hope and new life. The still-empty branches suddenly take on new meaning; they too will soon be bursting with color. It is so easy to become accustomed to that which is empty, rather than seeing the great potential for life that exists within.

So my encouragement to myself, and to those who might be reading, is simply this: do not give up hope. Even in the emptiest of circumstances, there is a promise of hope and new life. Look for the promise, even when it is hard to see. It's there.

Beauty To Be Found

I find winter depressing and ugly. The bare trees, the gray sky, the chilling cold, the extra darkness. It feels lifeless and drab.

I feel like I am going through a personal winter right now. Where there once was color and joy, things feel dead and gray. I don't necessarily mean emotionally, although it naturally takes an emotional toll too. I mean within myself, spiritually, as I struggle through this season of life that reminds me so much of winter.

Yesterday I looked out the window and saw snowflakes coming down. It was like an extra measure of grace, a bit of much-needed beauty in the midst of the freezing air and the gray sky. And in that moment, I was reminded that beauty is still there. Even in the grayest, coldest season where everything feels lifeless, there is still beauty to be found.

It is the same in one's personal winter; there is still beauty to be found. It may be harder to come by, at times, but it is there. Perhaps in a hug, the kind words of a friend, laughter, a song, thoughtfulness.

I was also reminded that winter is just a season. The winters come and go, but they do not last forever. They are followed by new life, growth, and warmth. Though I may be in a dark place now, it will not last. Spring is coming. Joy is coming. There is hope.

Weeping may last through the night, but joy comes with the morning.

Isn't That Just Good Parenting?

My last post sparked an interesting, and very good, conversation about the implications of the attachment parenting label. It was pointed out that, if attachment parenting really is what I described, then it’s simply what good parents do and it doesn’t need the “attachment” label. It’s just parenting.

I agree with that statement-- but I would be hesitant to say it without first attempting to clear up the common misunderstandings of what is meant by "attachment" parenting in the first place. Here's why:

Suppose you have been given the impression that attachment parenting is breastfeeding, baby-wearing, and co-sleeping, and then you heard me say, “Attachment parenting is really just what good parents do, and it doesn’t even need the label. Just call it parenting.” If you hear that statement with an inaccurate understanding of what attachment parenting is, that would be an incredibly hurtful statement! What you would actually “hear” me saying is that people who don’t breastfeed, baby-wear, or co-sleep are bad parents. And, if you read my last post, you know that’s not what I believe at all.

At the same time, though, I concede that the label itself can cause confusion, but I would say that part of that confusion does stem from not knowing what is actually meant by the term. When you hear “attachment parenting,” it is logical to assume that anything that isn’t described as attachment parenting would be described as detachment parenting. So, if you think that attachment parenting is about outward actions, then you would assume that people who don’t breastfeed, baby-wear, or co-sleep are being called detached. And if you read my last post, you know I don’t believe that either!

Hence the clarification of what, exactly, the point of attachment parenting is. It’s hard, if not downright impossible, to have an honest conversation about the label itself if you think it is implying something it isn’t. This misunderstanding of what the actual goal of attachment parenting is contributes to a lot of the confusion about it.

As I stated in my last post, the heart of attachment parenting is relationship. It’s about forming a healthy parent-child attachment by being responsive and sensitive to your children and parenting them as individuals. Sure, things like co-sleeping, breastfeeding, and babywearing are common ways to help foster attachment, but you are not a “detachment” parent if you don’t do them! Attachment has been one of my main goals with both of my children. Yet one of them hardly ever slept in our room, only nursed for a couple weeks, and was never worn in a sling (I didn't even know they existed!), while the other has co-slept since he was born (now only part of the time), is starting the weaning process at the age of 2, and has been worn in a sling some (but not frequently because of back problems that I have). And I have a very healthy attachment with both of them!

Attachment parenting emphasizes having plenty of nurturing physical contact with your child, breastfeeding (when possible) both for nourishment and comfort, being within close proximity at night (not necessarily in the same bed), and continuing to respond promptly and sensitively to a baby’s needs at night. In all honesty, these are things that are biologically appropriate. Mothers have God-given instincts to hold our babies, to comfort them when they cry, to nurse them, and to be responsive no matter the time of day. However, in recent history, there have been parenting books that promote the author's "methods" rather than encouraging mothers to trust and follow their natural mothering instincts. Here are some common examples: Don’t hold the baby so much; you’ll spoil him. Don’t nurse him whenever he cues that he wants to; put him on a strict schedule. Don’t ever put him in your bed; he may never leave. Don’t respond to his nighttime cries; he needs to learn that nighttime is for sleeping.

Could it be that attachment parenting has to be qualified with the “attachment” label to distinguish it from this attitude of parenting that has honestly become quite common in our culture? I agree that responsive, sensitive parenting shouldn’t need a label; it should just be “parenting.” But in our culture, maybe the label serves a purpose.

I also want to talk about why I think many parents are so eager to identify themselves with various labels and methods, and the pros and cons of labels in general (not just in parenting), but those topics will have to be for future posts.

Connected

I lay outside looking up at the night sky. Neighbors were shooting fireworks all around, and as I watched them, I felt a strange sense of connection to other people all over the country who were doing the same thing I was right at that moment. In the midst of all the differences we may have, this was a shared experience.

As the fireworks died down, my attention turned to the stars. I lay there on my back and gazed up at them, thinking of the beauty of creation and marveling at the enormity of it all. Again I felt a sense of connection. How many people all over the world throughout history have done just that? We are not so entirely different, even across time and cultures.

My thoughts went to my friend who was in labor with her first child at that moment. Another connection. We women are connected by this amazing ability to carry, birth, and nourish a new life. We divide ourselves over different opinions and choices, but we have such an awesome thing in common!

People share so many experiences. We have more in common than we realize. We are more connected than we know, but too often we let our differences drive us apart. I have been more conscious of it lately than ever, and I am weary of it.

Live in the Sunshine

When I was a teenager, I noticed that there was something about being out in nature that gave me a sense of peace. Being at the ocean especially calmed me; I felt as though my problems were put in perspective by the beauty and enormity of the sea.

I spent many afternoons walking through the woods at local parks, off the main path, breathing in the scent and the peacefulness of the trees, dirt, and creek. I would go to the nearby mountains and imagine what it would have been like to be Lewis and Clark exploring America before all the pavement and power lines, or what it would have been like to be Thoreau, living in the woods. Once, when I was very depressed, my dad insisted that we take a walk; he told me it would help me feel better, and he was right. The sunshine, the breeze, the sky... they were transforming. I remember when I was a child, I would play outside for hours, exploring the nooks and crannies of our backyard and riding my bike as fast as my little legs would pedal, just to feel the wind blowing through my hair, pretending that I was on an important mission.



These memories have come back so vividly as I have begun reading Last Child in the Woods. In our culture with its planned developments, rules of homeowners associations, obsession with indoor entertainment like TV and video games, and parents' fear that their children will be hurt or abducted, children miss out on experiences of nature that were simply a normal way of life for past generations. Nature is good for our minds, bodies, and souls. Spending time in nature brings a sense of calm and peace and can help with depression, anxiety, and ADHD. Exploring nature gives children a variety of sensory experiences and a hands-on familiarity with the environment that cannot be gained through mere book knowledge.



I'm only a few chapters into the book so far, so I'll probably write more about it as I continue to read. But for now, I'm thinking about ways to reconnect with a love for nature, especially in the face of fear (my own fear that my children will be hurt and my son's overwhelming fear of dogs). I want to go fishing, camping, and hiking. I want to explore the woods again and spend time near the water. I want my children to experience the wonder of nature in ways that many modern children do not.



"The cure for anything is salt water-- sweat, tears, or the sea." -Isak Dinesen

"Live in the sunshine, swim the sea, drink the wild air." -Ralph Waldo Emerson