Dear Wild One: We’ll See

On letting life unfold without deciding in advance how it
should feel.

The school year has officially arrived in my house, and to be honest, it has been the smoothest transition. I just couldn't put my finger on why. Until this morning.

By social measures, this school year should be both exciting and terrifying. One of my kids is now the oldest on his campus - exciting. For the other two, this is the first year of middle school - terrifying. A rite of passage for all three, from very different perspectives.

We've heard it everywhere we go. Oh, you're the big man on campus now. Middle school, wow, are you scared? Nervous? The projected implication that they should feel a certain way. Those messages get internalized whether we intend them to or not.

I'm a planner and systems person by nature, so the night before the first day I made school lunches, filled the coffee pot, whipped up my overnight oats, and scheduled out my morning routine. In my mind, everyone does this, although logically I know that isn't the case.

There is intentionality behind all of it. A purpose to control the anticipated chaos of waking earlier, adding more chores, and doing it all on a tight schedule. Taking time the night before, when I have the margin to do so, makes the morning easier. The hope being that the only drama is oh no, my egg bites are gone, and now I have to eat toast. No big deal.

But when I found myself thinking, wow, that was easy, it felt like I was overlooking something deeper. The answer arrived at 4:30 this morning.

Intentionality, yes. But not the physical kind.

Systems are good and they work, but they don't speak to the mind. When we step into something new - a grade level, a new job, a new relationship - there is enormous pressure placed on us, by ourselves or by others. We create stories that we have to perform perfectly in this new role. One look at social media and you will see the perceived thread of perfection woven through every post. The same narrative we've all heard: be excited because you're important now, or be nervous because of how hard it's going to be. We forget we are allowed to stumble or, gasp, even fail.

I did the opposite with my kids. I intentionally did not make this school year a big deal. There was no sensationalizing the fact that this was the last of my son's elementary years, or the beginning of an entirely new world for my bonus girls. I just let it be. A change of seasons. An observation. I made the coffee and moved on.

What naturally happened is that it created space for any thought or feeling to rise on its own. We've run the gamut of apathy, excitement, nervousness, and outright anxiety in this house. And all of it is okay.

So I want to remind you, Wild One, you get to be exactly where you are, too.

When we approach an opportunity, or even a challenge, with very little pomp and circumstance, and find gratitude for where we are in the moment, we allow ourselves to express the full range of what we feel. We can be equally excited and scared. There are no rules.

This way of being, perhaps without even realizing it, creates emotional regulation. Responsiveness instead of reactivity.

I read a parable recently.

A farmer and his son woke up one day to find their horse missing. Word traveled fast and their neighbor soon heard the news. How terrible, she said. The farmer replied, we'll see.

The next day the horse returned and brought with him a beautiful stallion. How terrific, the neighbor shouted. The farmer replied, we'll see.

The son tried to ride the stallion, fell off, and broke his leg. How awful, said the neighbor. The farmer replied, we'll see.

War broke out, and soon all the young men from the village were drafted. The farmer's son was unable to go because of his broken leg. How wonderful that your son gets to stay home, the neighbor said. The farmer simply replied, we'll see.

The farmer was intentional in his approach and curious about what each turn might bring. The neighbor, on the other hand, was completely reactive.

I'd rather be the farmer.

There will always be metaphorical horses that leave and return as something better, or worse. Being intentional and open about where you are and accepting what is winds up being far less chaotic than you ever anticipated.

The physical intentions- prepping the coffee pot, making lunches the night before, laying out the outfits- are quietly modeling the way we need to navigate the uncertain newness of life. These preparation habits inform our mind that we are okay. We are safe. We are prepared. They help us become the farmer, ever responsive to our environment and to what we cannot control.

Meet yourself exactly where you are, not where you think you should be, and say to yourself… 

We’ll see.