Don’t be a mooch!
Contribute: To your home, your relationships, your work, your community, your church, your country, the world.
Think about how much you get from all these things. It’s so much more from all these things than you could ever pay back, but that doesn’t mean you don’t try.
Dig in and contribute wherever you can. Never free-load. That’s not who we are. Be brave and contribute your talent, treasure or whatever you can. Duty and compassion both demand it.
I wish you had known my father he was such a good man gentle and loving. One early memory I have of him is that one night in our neighborhood I was hit by a bike - a boy was riding his bike and road up on the sidewalk and ran right into me. The bike hit me in the face with the handlebars and I was knocked down before I knew what happened. My father scooped me up and carried me back home. I was crying the whole time. the funny thing is I don't remember the pain, but I very clearly remember being in his arms and hearing the clip clop clip clop of his shoes. It was an after dinner walk - he was still in his suit from work and he had his loafers on and made a clip clop on the sidewalk I will never forget the feeling of being carried in his arms as he hurried back to the house to take care of me. I was in pain but I knew I would be OK.
I miss him very much and I wish you knew him.
The thing about hiding is you’re always worried you’ll be see, caught, or found out. It takes a toll. I hope you never hide from who you are, or feel like you have to fake it to be liked. I will always accept you as you are, and I hope to raise you so you accept yourself (and others) as well.
People will always have complicated feelings about the people they once loved. We’re human beings, we can’t expect emotions to be like an on/off switch. Complicated feelings/mixed emotions regarding an ex is to be expected. What’s important is what they decide.
Sometimes you can be so angry you don’t know what to do with yourself. It’s like being forced to keep your hand on a hot stove, trying to get through one minute at a time, one even one breath at a time. But there’s no need to white-knuckle it. The rage you feel is demanding to be acknowledged and validated. It needs to be processed, not ignored, stuffed down inside. A short list of some outlets for rage that’s begging to be heard are: art, music, physical activity, time in nature, anything creative or expressive. Baking, writing, improv, storytelling, stand up. Maybe try challenging yourself to do something difficult, something doable but you would have never thought you could do, like run a marathon, etc. Literally talk to the rage. Name it. Is it male or female? Young or old? Is it human or animal or alien, etc? Giving Rage a name, say for example Helen. Helen is a straight-up terrifying 8th grader. She has a few things she’d like to unload about. Dialog it in your head. And when you’ve heard her out, Helen will leave peacefully, if not painlessly. What do you do with yourself when the rage is gone? Give yourself permission to start over. Always remember I love you. xoxo
Have dinner guests sign the under side of the dining room table. Let the kids’ friends sign too - or have their own version of a guestbook - the inside of a cabinet or the basement door, etc.
It’s so tempting to write someone off, to dismiss them as “less than.” They’re too young or too old to be taken seriously. They speak a different language or have a different skin color. They may be poor, uneducated, disabled or just simply unattractive. RESIST that temptation. Remember that every human being is God’s creation, a masterpiece cloaked in dignity. No matter what they look like or even what they’ve done, everyone you meet is deserving (and in need) of respect. To be humble is to remember this. (Start lesson young, phrased age-appropriately, and reticket yearly. Look for opportunities to discuss.)
Your great-great grandmother was a seamstress at Marshall Fields. Her husband was a firefighter in Chicago. The immigrated from County Wexford in Ireland.
“If you don’t know what hurts me, how can you say you love me?”
From a story told by Rabbi Levi Yitzhak
....Do you know what causes him pain or anxiety? What he’s afraid of?
In an age-appropriate way....Talk about our fears and the things that hurt us. He will see it’s normal to have fear and pain, and he will learn he can come to me with anything that troubles him.