Category Archives: honesty

Both/And

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Since losing my dad a few weeks ago, I’ve been living in the Land of Both/And. It’s where two diametrically opposed feelings co-exist. Both gratitude and disappointment, both acceptance and sadness, both peace and grief. I’m feeling it all.

Dad was blessed with 92 amazing years. His heart and mind were as beautiful as his good looks. And, his legacy of kindness and love impacted so many. He was my buddy from Day 1, joking how I’d hang onto him as a little one and refuse to let others hold me. His sense of humor, sometimes sprinkled with naughtiness, kept us all giggling. A master storyteller, he shared the most fascinating, inspiring stories of his life. Dad was my first role model of love in action as a Christian, husband, father, and so much more.

When Mom died, I had a difficult time accepting it. Her death was unexpected and shocked us all. I wasn’t ready, and I fought the grief. Dad’s death was a completely opposite experience for me. I could see him slowing down, ever so slightly, over the last few years. Most recently, his 12 days of hospice care prepared me well for what was to come. I got to love on Dad each day and say goodbye. So, although I really miss him, I’m okay knowing that he’s okay. Both/And.

I wish I could end this post right here – that I’m fully at peace, even in my grief. But, there’s a plot twist: I missed Dad’s funeral. Had no idea that COVID would be the culprit that literally put me on my back minutes before heading to his service that day.

My hubby, kids, and I were all dressed and almost ready to leave for the funeral with the rest of our family. Just before our meet-up time, I suddenly became extremely warm and sick to my stomach. I couldn’t keep anything down. I eventually collapsed back into bed, completely weak, sweating. Just sick-sick.

I cried hot tears, realizing my body would not cooperate. My hubby and sister tag-teamed me and insisted I stay put, that my health was first. I disagreed, but it didn’t matter. I was so weak that I couldn’t even open my eyes to view the service online on my hubby’s phone. I could only listen, catching bits here and there. I was miserable, inside and out. Later that day, an at-home test confirmed it was COVID. I thought, “Really, Lord? I’ve. Never. Had. COVID. And it shows up now like a raging bull, of all days, TODAY?!?”

Once-in-a-lifetime moments like funerals never offer do-overs. I lay in bed, heartbroken I wasn’t celebrating Dad’s life with my family and community. I wasn’t there to comfort my teenager at the church and cemetery. I missed hugging Dad’s sisters, Mom’s sisters, so many cousins who traveled near and far to be with us.

And, while I see — and am even grateful for — God’s wisdom in keeping me from spreading COVID to countless folks at the funeral, it still hurts. I feel sad, even shame and guilt. How could I – the one who cared for Dad for so many years – not be there? It just feels all wrong.

My siblings and I were always a tight team when it came to supporting Dad after Mom died 15 years ago. As his needs changed, I became his primary care helper, eventually moving him in to live with us. During his final years in a memory care residence nearby, I saw him regularly. And when he received hospice care, I was with him twice a day.

I share these details not for accolades, but for context. To miss celebrating Dad’s life after being there with and for him so long, front and center, feels like a cruel joke. It’s like I ran a marathon with Dad all those years, but COVID didn’t let me cross the finish line. It stole my ability to honor his beautiful, extraordinary life with our family.

God gave me time to say goodbye to Dad, and I’m grateful. And, I know he’s happy with my mom, brother, and so many loved ones in a Far Better Place. I have peace knowing all of that. I just don’t have peace missing our family’s farewell moment, our celebration of Dad’s life together.

Both/And.

Yet, even as I wrestle with peace, I’m choosing to lean into Both/And. I’m relying on James 1:2-4 and remembering Mom’s wisdom that “time takes care of everything.” James and Mom have been right many times in my life. I’m trusting that, down the road apiece, this experience will be one of those times, too.
xo,
Karin

A Kind of Kindness

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Writing again feels so good. I’ve been navigating a swept-away season since the birth of our LO 3 years ago. Stretch-and-grow moments have been plentiful since then. Time for capturing those moments here? Not so much.

But, seasons change and mine is evolving again. So, onward we go. And, I’ll start with a lesson that still requires lots of practice:

While this idea is pretty universal, it’s especially for my fellow people-pleasers. We’re often described as “thoughtful” and “kind.” But, extending kindness to ourselves with zero guilt? Well, that can be a pretty tall order for us.

I struggle with this often. A prime example: When to schedule a long overdue medical procedure. My body tells me almost daily to be kinder to myself. Sometimes it’s a whisper; other times, a shout.

I know I’ll feel better once it’s done. But, I’m stuck on how to fit a procedure + recovery into my work sked and a multilayered calendar. (Fact: When moms are out of commission, a lot can happen in several days. IJS.) Balancing What’s good for everyone else? and How soon can I feel better? feels like herding cats … pretty impossible.

See, we people-pleasers hate being an inconvenience, especially to those closest to us. We usually adjust for others’ comfort. We often sacrifice our own needs to ensure theirs are met first. In our hearts and minds, not putting others first feels strange, wrong, unloving.

And unkind.

It’s how some of us end up delaying a medical procedure for 3 years.

So, I get it – even as I’m still working on living the lesson: Self-kindness requires mindful courage rooted in honoring my own worth. Making tiny and not-so-tiny decisions based on what I need isn’t selfish. And being kind to ourselves is one of the greatest kindnesses, indeed.

Weary, But Worth It

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Hard to believe my last blog post was 8 months ago.

The culprit? A tiny human with 2 teeth and a serious milk habit. His happy eyes and easy smile are downright disarming. And, his giggles? Like sunshine for your soul.

My last post was just weeks shy of Josiah’s birth. To say that life has been extra full and moving at warp speed since then is, well, a major understatement.

Are we exhausted most days, leaning hard on Visine® (and, sometimes, the wall)? Uh-huh.

Has everything–and I do mean, literally everything–in our lives shifted because of our newest plus-one? Yep.

But has our gratitude also grown exponentially in the process? Without a doubt.

How can that be, when we’re weary on the regular?

See, Josiah is a profound gift. His mere presence is nothing short of a miracle. The reasons he technically shouldn’t be here are countless.

Want a sampling?

My age. Remember my “Hey, I’m pregnant!” post? It noted a less than 1% chance of natural conception after age 44. I was well past that age, so mine was a “geriatric pregnancy.” And, the odds were stacked high against us for a healthy mom and baby.

Last-trimester worries. The first two trimesters were pretty smooth. Sure, I had nausea all day. Extra testing and monitoring. Even some pains. But everything panned out just fine. The real challenge came in the final weeks when my amniotic fluid level suddenly increased for no apparent reason. It meant almost daily monitoring to be sure baby was fine–and moving up my due date twice for our safety.

Josiah’s landing. We reported before sunrise for a scheduled C-section. But, if baby was head-down, I could opt to be induced and push instead. He was, so I did.  And 14 hours later, Josiah made his grand entrance.  

With the cord wrapped around his neck.

I never saw it. Exhausted, I laid back and closed my eyes to catch my breath. But my concerned hubby saw it all, including how quickly the doc unwrapped that cord quickly, quietly and efficiently. He told me about it waaay later, once some time passed from the scariness of that moment.

For these reasons and many more, we don’t assume Josiah is here by chance. Rather, just like our older children (and all of us), we’re certain he has a God-given purpose to discover as he stretches and grows.

So, yeah, the tempo of our lives has changed again. The pace often feels non-stop with a new baby, being present for our older kids, supporting elders we love, careers, community service, and more. We know this life of continuous toggling will be our norm for many more years. And while we also know this pace won’t last forever, right now we’re tuckered out.

Yet even in our weariness, we’re also deeply grateful to God for so many blessings. We don’t take any of it for granted. Like feeling wet kisses on our faces, planted by a healthy baby. Watching our 3 children mature, their love as siblings firmly rooted. Hearing them laugh with doting grandparents.

And, knowing that–as long as you’re not tapping yourself out completely–some things are worth the weariness.

Your Turn: What keeps your life busy, but also blessed?

At This Moment

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kd baby bump week 26

“Are you getting ready for the baby?”

(Pause) “Uhhh . . . no.”

My response to this popular, well-meaning question has likely surprised some folks. So, let’s be clear: We are over-the-moon happy and excited for Baby Dancy’s arrival this spring. And we’re equally grateful for a healthy pregnancy and growing baby in my tummy.

But, we’ve also had a lot going on. So much so that my stretch-and-grow muscles ache. Continue reading →

The 4th Reaction

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Ever since sharing our surprise pregnancy at age 47, my hubby and I have received quite an assortment of reactions.

He has his own stories of responses from guys (let’s just say they involve a lot of high-fives). For me, reactions from women have varied but ultimately fall into 1 of 4 categories:

1. “Wow. Just, wow. Oh, and congrats!” (A shock-awe-and-happiness combo.)

2. “Better you than me.” (I can’t blame them but, quite honestly, it’s the hardest to hear and feels the least kind.)

3. “I’m calling my doctor to be sure I’M okay.” (Understandable, as they’re prompted to reassess if their own birth control methods are, ahem, in order.)

And then there’s a 4th reaction, and it’s been quite prevalent. But, it’s the one I did not see coming and did not anticipate would warm my heart the most:

“You’re giving me/my loved one/my friend hope.”

Those words, shared by more women than I can count, have made me pause every time.

See, before this pregnancy, I wrongfully assumed that 99% of women in my age range were like me: simply not even thinking of having kids anymore. At my age, a lot of women are already planning for empty nests, caring for elderly loved ones, and kicking up retirement planning a whole notch or two. Quite often, these rites of passage come up in conversations in our kitchens, on the phone, in Facebook groups.

New babies for my age group? Not as hot a topic as when I was in my 20s and 30s.

Case in point: The other day I realized there’s literally no one I nor my hubby know who’s been in our current situation—specifically, someone who’s working, raising school-age kids, caring for an elderly relative in their home each day, AND expecting a baby at our age. No one we can call to ask, “How did you DO IT?!?” We know we cannot possibly be the first folks ever in this situation. We just don’t know anyone personally. (If you do, we’d be grateful if you refer us.)

So, this 4th reaction from so many women has been wonderfully surprising for me, both generally speaking and given my own journey. Not only has it debunked my assumptions, but it also has stretched my gratitude for . . .

. . . being a hopeful chapter in many other women’s stories. Becoming an unexpected source of encouragement for others who persist on the journey to motherhood is humbling. And so is learning that they’re now praying for my health and a safe delivery.

. . . the reminder not to take blessings for granted. Like, a fiercely devoted husband who tells and shows me he loves me every day. Two healthy kids with quick minds, caring hearts and willing hands to help us love a new baby. And, yes, a new bundle of joy who happily dances in my tummy.

. . . the gift of a whole new tribe—women with renewed hope in the possibility of everyday miracles. Their hope, in turn, revives my own faith in God’s power to create odd-defying miracles in our lives each day.

I never expected to be pregnant at 47. I never expected to give others hope in the process. And, I never expected to be surrounded by so many prayers as a result. But, man, oh man, am I grateful for it all.

Your Turn:
How have you grown because of the unexpected reactions of others?

About Those Masks … (1.5-min. read)

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mask pic for oct 2017 blog

Every October 31st, we went a-begging for candy. And what fun it was: Putting on makeup and wigs and masks and whatever else was required to become a werewolf, princess or superhero.

By the time I was about 10, I preferred to be any character that didn’t require wearing a mask. More specifically, those plastic masks with a string of rubber stapled to it to hold it in place, circa 1980. Continue reading →

Back to Basics (1-min. read)

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Writer’s Note, 8.31.2017:

I wrote this post a week ago, but held on sharing it. Doing so seemed insensitive in the face of tragedy and devastation due to Hurricane Harvey.

But, I’m posting it now, without hesitation.

Why?

Because, especially in extremely difficult times as this, we really don’t have time to mistreat, dislike or even hate each other. And, thankfully, a lot of folks agree; the evidence is in news stories of strangers helping strangers impacted by the hurricane.

Yet, a lot of other folks still don’t get it. From the rude customer in the grocery line yesterday to the latest POTUS shenanigans, too many adults insist on choosing the low road.

But, we don’t have to. The high road is waaaay better, and there are many paths to get there.

Here’s a brief look at one such path. Continue reading →

Bees & Buttons (1.5-min read)

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I’ve always been industrious, busy as a bee. As a kid, I could keep myself occupied for hours by creating art using typing paper, tape and crayons. As a teen, I stayed busy with homework, school clubs, music, and church. And none of that changed as a young adult.

Yet, I’m not a high-energy person. Type B through and through, I require quiet time to recharge and recenter. Otherwise, I’m a walking billboard for “Exhausted: Proceed with Caution.”

My natural way of operating in the world is caring for others by giving them a lot of my time and attention. When I became a mom , that modus operandi only intensified. Sleep deprivation? Whatever. In my overachieving-first-time-mom mind, I HAD to be sure our little one ate, slept and had clean diapers or the world would end. Literally.

So, I just kept going and going and going. Kinda like the Energizer Bunny, but without the benefit of batteries. My ever-so-thoughtful hubby, worrying more than a bit, would look at me and almost plead, “Karin, grab a nap. You. Are. TIRED.”

But, you’re a new parent like me, tooooo, I’d think to myself. You know as little about this parenting stuff as I do!  I trusted our newbie parenting skills as far as I could throw an elephant. So, I couldn’t truly rest.  Instead, I’d look at my loving hubby through bloodshot eyes weighed down with bags and reply, “Nuh uh.”

Time kept moving along, and so did I – usually in a fog of fatigue. When our daughter was 9 months old, we visited family at my parents’ home. My big sis, with kids of her own, fell instantly in love with our daughter – and saw the fatigue all over me.

“Give her to me,” she insisted, as soon as we walked in the door. “And just go rest. I got her.”

I knew my sis would know what to do if the baby cried, pooped, even managed a whimper. She was a safe and trusted harbor, a Jedi-level mom raising 3 older kids.

I almost ran to the bedroom, confident our little one was in the hands of a pro.

I’d discovered my Off Button.

I won’t even say how long I slept or how much drool I left on my parents’ pillows. But, to this day, it was one of the best naps I’ve ever had. I woke up smiling with renewed energy, able to be fully present with my hubby, our little one and extended family.

My life is still blessed with family, work and more. So, yeah, each day is super-full. I’m planning and executing and scheduling and transporting and cooking and cleaning and writing and editing. And thinking of it all when I’m not doing any of it.

I’m still pretty good at wearing myself out.

But, the good news? I’m better at pressing my Off Button when needed. I’ve come to trust that the world will not, in fact, fall apart if I stop being a busy bee and just rest. No alarm clocks. No itineraries. And no cell phone or computer use. I simply lie down, close my eyes, and instantly go into a deep slumber.

And, when I do so, I’m all the better for it. So are those I love, care for, and work with. Why? Because I return reenergized and ready to engage. My best self shows up. Not the snippy, too-tired-to-talk-laugh-or-smile Karin.

We all have moments when we need to push our Off Button. Being “On” most of the time– the pull of cell phones and social media, full work days, demands of others, you name it – can wear us out and down. Our brains, hearts, and spirits can only manage so much. We’re mere mortals, after all.

We all need an Off Button. Do whatever it takes to figure out yours – and then, when it’s needed most, press it.

 Your Turn: What’s your Off Button?

How Are You? (4-min. read)

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I can be such a busybody.

Like so many women, I’m a multi-tasker who wears many life hats. Wife. Mom. Daughter-caregiver. Wage earner. Friend. My life is organized across 9 color-coded calendars, and to-do lists are my constant companions. Even as I check off items, I realize the lists aren’t actually going anywhere. They’re like squatters – perhaps shifting position and moving around a bit, but always there. Always hanging around. Continue reading →