Friends with Clay Feet

"A leader ... is like a shepherd. He stays behind the flock, letting the most nimble go out ahead, whereupon the others follow, not realizing that all along they are being directed from behind." Nelson Mandela

Oftentimes when I think of influencers, it reminds me of folks who have learned how to look good on instagram. This is not the kind of influence that has been helpful to me. I need my people to have skin and bone on them and show up at my house or meet me for coffee. I need people who will waste time with me. I need to observe if they practice what they preach, and on the occasions when they cannot do so, acknowledge it. I like to SEE the clay feet, not just the Photoshopped version that shows up on social media. (Who named it that anyway? Is social media really SOCIAL?)

All my influencers have very clay feet, which helps me take them seriously. In my inner sanctum of trusted friends, everyone is a hot mess now and again. It turns out, that for each of our super powers, we have an accompanying limitation. When we know this, we can plan accordingly. Tomorrow, we will chat about that!

Get Rid of Your False Limitations!

"You know, I've decided to move to Delaware," announces my new friend as Pete and I gather our rackets and head to the sweltering tennis courts.

"Why Delaware?" I ask, dragging my feet so that I can hear any words she wants to share.

"Lower taxes."

"Lower taxes? Interesting. Do you know anyone in Delaware?" I ask.

"No, why do I need to know anyone to move to a new place? I didn't know anyone when we moved here from Connecticut. I managed. But I don't like the heat here. And the skiing isn't great here - better up north - and Delaware is closer." She scowls and seems to think that perhaps she has over-estimated me.

"Closer?"

"Closer to good skiing!"

"What do your kids think about your moving to Delaware?"

"They don't like the idea. It'll make it hard for them to get in my business. They keep wanting a key to my house and I tell them, 'You don't need a key to my house; I don't have a key to yours and I don't want one either!' "

In a world where most of us focus our attention on what we are afraid we will lose or never achieve, this little lady scans the horizon for new adventures. Who knows if she will move or not, but I would not bet against her. Isn't there something glorious about a woman who, at her age, still believes that new adventures await her? I love that so much!

So what about you? What false limitations are you placing on your own wild and precious life? Is it possible that you have a new adventures waiting for you?

Later that evening, sitting down on the dock and staring across a lake whose surface is smooth as glass, I marvel at the human heart's capacity to find kinship in spite of our differences.

Certainty is a Drag

When we decide that the pathway to growth is not through certainty, we take the road less traveled - taking responsibility for our lives. This attitude creates a whole new set of problems. Certainty brings with it a sort of script for life. Someone can bring up a topic and all we have to do is hit our own "play" button. We can spout off our certainty. But when we assume we are responsible we preclude certainty as an option. Life will keep presenting us with confusing opportunities to ....change.

For example, if I could be certain of how to advise families with loved ones in need of recovery, I could respond to all their questions (which are usually pretty predictable) by pushing my "play" button. Have a kid smoking cannabis in your basement? Kick him out if you don't like his behavior! That's a "play" button response.

But what if the kid has a traumatic brain injury? What if the kid has developmental delays? What if mom and dad's greatest fear is the kid will not be safe on the streets? These are legitimate questions that deserve respect.

I'm far less certain than I once was about how to support recovery for those we love who are struggling. This requires that I continue to take responsibility for keeping current on the latest research and best recovery practices. None of it is certain - even the newest approaches. But it makes for a better life.

Think of it like this - if we are certain, then we are probably irritated when people do not agree with us. Maybe we feel anxious when our certainty is challenged. But if we are constantly taking responsibility for our limitations, if we are curious, then we are perpetual learners. And maybe, just maybe, we can actually end up better equipped to help those we love.

Certainty is a drag; responsibility is a doorway to more joy and fewer regrets.

A Well-Constructed Scaffolding

"Mom, how many therapists do you need?"

"As many as it takes."

"As many as it takes for what?"

"As many as it takes to support my limitations so that I can live my one wild and precious life."

Here is what I need you to know. Your limitations probably are not going anywhere. No one is as shocked by this as I am. I am shocked, stunned, gob-smacked, that I can be this old and still have the same limitations I had when I was twenty. But it is true. And I hate to break it to you, but I bet you do too.

The illusion of youth is that "growing up" means outgrowing our limitations. Sorry. Not my experience.

Instead, what I have learned is how to construct scaffolding around myself to support my growing up. Kate Bowler, one of my favorite humans on the planet, says that, "Life is a chronic condition." And boy is she right!

Maybe we can learn from our brothers and sisters in the mutual aid society world of AA, NA, al-anon, nat-anon, etc. Some things we manage. And that's ok. This is only a problem if we fail to recognize our need for managing our limitations with humility and hopefully a bit of grace!

No One is Asking You to be Right

I am my biggest limitation. It's true. I make up stories in my head about what I SHOULD do, or the kind of person I COULD be, or the life I MIGHT HAVE HAD IF ONLY.... most of it is just baloney. It turns out that everyone has limitations. Even I, with all mine, has not been powerful enough to ruin my children.

Last week we had our annual Memorial Day family gathering. The grandkids are at the stage where you can take your eyes off them for 3 seconds without them choking on a screw or choking each other. I built them a fort in the back yard made of sheets and towels thrown over a dome-like jungle gym structure that they climb on and fall off of on a regular basis. They loved their little cozy fort.

The big kids - all the rest of us, played pickle ball on a court drawn quite precisely by the resident engineer in the family. Scott and I acted as his assistants and we really did try to keep our mocking to a minimum over his precision and laser focus on getting it perfect. We ate a simple meal that included a new recipe from my sister-in-law, who we affectionately call Chef ShooFly because she is an excellent cook and one of the littles called her that years ago and it stuck. We had a discussion on labor unions (with many different perspectives at the table) and I can only speak for myself - I learned a ton.

My joy is complete - to see the way my family respected each other even with the diversity that has bloomed as the years have started to pile up and kids have turned into adults. It occurs to me that with all the things I regret about the way I parented, the thing I love about being a parent is that somewhere along the line someone managed to convey to my children that no one is asking any of us to be right or deny their limitations. No one has to be certain that their opinion should and must prevail.

I don't know who taught them these things, but I am so grateful to learn by watching them live a life of unconditional positive regard for one another. My optimism for future generations grows as I see how this next generation is modeling these truths for their children. So just in case no one has told you recently - your limitations are not a problem. Everyone has them. Tomorrow we'll talk about how to manage them.