Day 29 & 30: Loving My Terrible Neighbor & Seeing the Invisible

I used to have this old crotchety neighbor named Mr. Al. He was hands down the second worst neighbor I've ever had. (The only neighbor worse than him was the lady who got drunk and drove up her brand new deck and smashed into her own house in the middle of the night while I had five little girls camping a few years away in my tent for a sleepover birthday party.) That was a little worse than Mr. Al who's just being old and bossy. It's taken me a lot of years to learn this about myself, but I don't like to be bossed. If you tell me to check my email I will not check my email. I will likely throw away my computer and end our friendship. I'm working on this by the way. (Except that I'm not.) The point is that Mr. Al really bumped up against my personal pet peeve of being bossed around. Literally every time I had a conversation with Mr. Al he was always telling me what to do.

He (aggressively) told me who to vote for, he told me how to invest all the money I still don't have, he told me where to put my mulch and also to have an abortion because I was really sick during my pregnancy. He was always so grouchy and bossy and unapologetic that I couldn't take it. Still, I tried really hard to be nice to him. We made a lot of effort to serve him and show him love, kindness and patience... even when I secretly felt violent. Even when we explained why were were okay with "the blacks" moving in. 

We had a breakthrough several years ago with Mr. Al when I brought him a meal and he Disney-frenched me in excitement. That upsetting kiss showed me that even the loneliest and grouchiest among us need a little TLC. And when they get the TLC they might respond with a little PDA. 

We no longer live next to Mr. Al, but since we have been back at our old house repairing damages, he has been on our minds lately. So, we invited him to join us for Grandpa Day. If you aren't familiar with Grandpa Day, allow me to explain. Grandpa Day is a fictitious holiday where we all gather to deep fry various foods in oil, under the guise of celebrating Grandpa. It's not a real thing. It's just something we made up so we can eat donuts. Mr. Al did not come to Grandpa Day. Because he hates joy and fried dough and babies and black people and all the other good things in the world. Still, I brought home a piece of pie to bring to him later. I am counting that and the impending geriatric makeout sesh as my #AdamsActs for Day 29.

For Day 30, I participated in a great opportunity to connect with some of the homeless population in Rochester. My friend Allie heads up a community organization called Supports on the Streets.  What I really appreciate about their vision is that it is all relationship-based with an emphasis on helping without hurting. Sure, we brought some care packages with essentials (see list below for needed items) and some dental hygiene kits, but more than that... we simply connected with people who are often marginalized. The best part of the evening for me was connecting with a man who also considers himself a writer. He told us about his poetry and about a book he is writing. I told him that his story is an inspiration for me to keep writing and he asked if we could exchange our writing sometime. I'm about 99% sure that this guy is a better writer than I will ever be, so I am looking forward to that exchange - not just of our writing but our experiences. 

The homeless population in our country is often invisible. Please consider how you might be able to love on the most under-served people in your community. I hear a lot of Christians talk about "being Jesus" to others. But in scripture Jesus refers to the hungry, thirsty, naked, homeless, sick and imprisoned and says that "whatever you did for the least of these you did for me." Followers of Christ hear this and the takeaway is to "Be Jesus" to those who are marginalized. But I don't think that is what Jesus is saying. He didn't say to be him. He said that how we treat the marginalized is how we treat him. We aren't supposed to "Be Jesus" to the marginalized, we are supposed to treat the marginalized as if they were Jesus. However we would interact with Jesus himself if he was living in a tent off the inner loop is exactly how we should interact with the poet I met tonight. With honor, with humility, with genuine interest. We were never called to be the savior, but to honor the savior by loving those who are most often overlooked.

Here is a revised list that I compiled last year of some things that I have learned over the years about homeless outreach.  

1. Due to the lack of consistent dental hygiene, many people have sore or missing teeth. So, stick to softer foods that are easy to chew - bread, soft cereal bars, pudding, applesauce, bananas, soups, cheese sticks, even pizza. :) Avoid foods like apples. A lot of people cannot eat raw apples. 
2. Keep clean socks in your car. The health of your feet is of utmost importance when you spend your life walking from place to place. Limited access to showers or fresh socks can often lead to foot issues and pain. 
3. Chapstick, disposable toothbrushes, trial size deodorant, travel size packs of baby wipes and other small personal hygiene essentials are very helpful. And don't forget to supply the ladies during that "extra special' time of the month. Can you imagine dealing with all that on the streets? 
4. Some helpful items we may not think about are large, sturdy ziplock bags, a waterproof tarp, hats and gloves, rain poncho, and those rubber shoe cover things that protect shoes from water. 
5. Touch them. Living on the fringe of society often means these people are overlooked. If you are invisible, you are probably not being affectionately cared for. So look into people's eyes, say good morning, ask how they feel, ask if there is anyone you can call for them. Give them a hug, touch their shoulder, hold their hand. Ask what their name is. Ask if they'd like to tell you how they ended up on the street. Ask if they need to go to the hospital. Ask if they are in touch with anyone for services/supports. If you can, sit and eat a meal with them. Treat them like an equal, with value and a little dignity. 
6. Expect to see a lot of mental illness. Contrary to what most people believe, a large majority of homeless people are in that position because of mental health problems. Expect a lot of confusion. Just be compassionate, and let them swear a little because they think you want to steal their cat. (They don't have a cat.) Just tell them you love them and get then get the crap outta there. 
7. Remember that it could be you. I try to remember that with each lost soul I see, that I am not better. I am just as capable of losing my mind. I am just as capable of losing everyone I love in some freak tragedy. I am just as capable of making a terrible choice that leads me down a path of destruction. I am not better. You are not better. We all need Jesus. So don't judge, don't make assumptions, just help without hurting and be grateful for your teeth.  

Day 27 & 28: Wrestling With Pain

Warning: ***The following is a bit graphic, so if you are an enormous babychild you may want to skip this first part.***

Several years ago, after having my second daughter, I had excruciating pain on the right side of my abdomen. I could feel a relatively large mass just below my rib cage and it was not only strange and worrisome, but it seemed to be the source of my discomfort. The pain wasn't constant, but when present, it was often unbearable. At one point, after a long car ride, I was in so much pain I started feeling quite dizzy and nauseated. When Tom finally pulled into the driveway I was so eager to get out of the car that I immediately opened the door the moment the car stopped moving. It was too late though. As soon as my door opened I passed out onto the driveway. I still remember "coming to" and Tom saying, "I don't know what happened, I put the van in park and looked over and you were gone!." It was all very mysterious and a touch dramatic. 

To my frustration, my doctor couldn't find anything abnormal. The ultrasound and CT scan results were totally normal. No mass. Nothing inside me that was out of the ordinary. I was asked a lot of questions that made me feel that doctors believed that these might be psychosomatic symptoms, or postpartum depression. Still, the pain persisted. In waves. It was sometimes there as a dull ache, and sometimes it was sharp and acute. Desperate for answers, I started paying very close attention to the pain. What positions caused me the most pain? What actions or movements were more comfortable, or less. Was my body reacting to something that I wasn't paying attention to? When was the mass there (sometimes visible!) and when was it gone? I would make Tom feel the mass when it was there so he didn't think I was crazy. This went on for close to two years. 

In this process I determined that sitting for any amount of time was the most painful. I went to yet another doctor with my observations and she listened to me and got creative. She did an ultrasound, but instead of just lying there on my back, she had me lay on each side. She had me sit up, she did an ultrasound on my abdomen while standing up and contorting myself in all different directions. 

And ya know what, she found it. Wanna know what that mass was? It was my kidney. Except it was floating around my body instead of staying up where it belongs. When I was laying down it would swim up where it belonged and was, therefore undetectable during a CT or typical ultrasound. She sent me for a kidney function test, and also a sitting and a standing CT and the images were clear - my right kidney was dangling below the protection of my rib cage. When I was sitting, my rib cage would jam into my kidney, restricting blood flow and causing a great deal of pain. My right kidney was functioning at just under 20%. The official diagnosis was Nephroptosis or floating kidney.

I ended up having a surgery called a nephropexy - where they litterally stitched my kidney up to my back muscles. To this day it feels super weird to run or jump on a trampoline or do handstands and cartwheels. Not just because I am 36 or 37 and am probably too old to be participating in these shenanigans, but because I can actually feel my kidney tugging on my back muscles. No matter how much time passes, no matter how much I choose to live an exuberant life, I can always feel the pain tugging inside me.

That is grief. 

I have always lived an exuberant life. I am loud and spazzy and embarrassing. I bust out handstands and loudly sing (incorrect) lyrics in my unfortunate singing voice. When I make people laugh it's like a power-up on a video game for me. Laughter makes me louder and spazzier and more embarrassing. I am like a toddler up past their bedtime. I am not unhappy. I am full of life and I have so much joy and am able to dance with such reckless abandon that it might be my spiritual gift. 

Still. No matter how much time passes, no matter how much I choose to live an exuberant, full life... I can always feel the pain of grief tugging inside me. It doesn't stop me from doing cartwheels. But it's always there.

For Day 27 we were supposed to have Frank over for dinner and a cake presentation. If you don't know who or what I am talking about, you might want to watch this video:

We ordered the cake and I have to give a shout out to my friend and neighbor Maggie for understanding how computers work and for using one to create the bird and milk carton graphic that we put on the cake. 

Sadly, Frank and his family were not able to come. He was under the weather, so we have to reschedule. :( We were very sad that we couldn't present him with his beautiful baptismal cake, but I don't think he'd mind me telling you that when we connected over the phone for the first time he said how touched he was that Tom remembered him and his kind actions so many years later. We look forward to reconnecting with Frank soon. 

For Day 28, we livestreamed (I don't really know what live streaming is, so I might be using it wrong.) our girls' final cross country race.

It was the county championships and Annalee and Marlie did awesome, both breaking personal race times. We haven't yet received the official results for the whole race, but we do know that Annalee (our 8th grader) came in 6th in the county!

This is my blog, and I reserve the right to shamelessly celebrate for a sec because I am beyond proud of my kid that can run a 5:53 mile (and smokes the boys on a regular basis.) ;) Our family in Michigan and Chicago don't get to see the kids' events so using Facebook Live to make a fool of my spazzy, exuberant self while recording their events is a gift to our family. 

We also bought the girls a county race shirt. These shirts are ill-fitting and over priced and parent confession: the girls usually buy their own merchandise if they really want it. They do not ask us to buy stuff. It's a reflection of who they are, and their perspective and understanding of life with lots of kids in the family. We simply have to say no to the extras. Even though they came prepared to purchase their own shirts, we surprised them by buying them. It sounds like a small thing, but $56 bucks for two long sleeve shirts that are way too wide for my little slim babies is a big deal to us.

Watching some sports impacts me more than others. There is something about wrestling and cross country that makes me wistful. Wrestling - in part - because Adam was such a wrestling phenom and I grew up in the gym watching wrestling meets.

But also because wrestling and long distance running take so much discipline. Both sports take a tenacity and endurance that other sports don't seem to require. Yesterday, I watched my girls push through their pain to run their best race. 

That is grief. That is life really. That no matter how much life we live, no matter how much ground we cover... we cannot outrun our pain. It stays with us, and it requires a tenacity and endurance that many of us have no choice but to develop. The pain is a non-negotiable. Running the race well is the choice. The pain isn't going anywhere, but whether or not we press on, and still laugh and eat cake and do cartwheels... that is the decision we must make. 

Day 26: Pep Talks & a Painted Pup

I went to sleep last night feeling drained and down in the dumps, and also like a hideous beast because my eyelids were so puffy I didn't even need a pillow. When I woke up this morning I was bolstered by the love and support (and violent threats against anyone who crosses me) that so many of you expressed. I feel loved today and I am so thankful that you are all my people. (Still working on a group name, still trying really hard not to keep saying kittens.)

The critics were silent today, and probably will be for a while now. But I am not even mad about it. Here's why: for Day 26 my act of kindness was to speak to a group of students at Villa of Hope which is a school that specializes in trauma-informed care for students and families who come from hard places. I shared about #AdamsActs and how kindness is restorative and vulnerability is terrifying, yet healing and empowering. The first question I was asked by a student was whether or not I get haters for being so open. 

And that's why I'm not going to let the harsh or hurtful comments weigh too heavily on my heart... because I will take that criticism and I will use it to empower kids. I was able to tell that girl the truth. I told her that I absolutely have some haters and that, in fact, I had just blogged about it yesterday! I told her that I was just like them and that people hurt my feelings all the time. I also told them that this world thinks that kids from hard places won't succeed. I told them that this world thinks that kids who are abused or experienced trauma can't recover. I told them not to listen to critics or haters, but to rebel against them instead. 

And I told them that I have a few haters it's true, and some people just want me to shut up. But I can't and I won't because I am a rebel. And I will rebel against the negativity every single time. And I told them that they should too. (I actually told them to be ballsy. And then I retroactively asked the social workers for permission to use the word ballsy, and then I regretted everything I ever said or did out loud forever and ever amen.) Permission was granted and we were collectively ballsy. And then I played "We are the Champions" by Queen while doing an interpretive dance.

Ok, that part didn't happen until I was in my car. But it was pretty glorious. 

After that speaking engagement I surprised my friend Lexi with breakfast because she is the world's most helpful manager/lady's maid/respite care provider/friend/supporter and so she gets french toast. While out, I also sneaky-paid for a stranger's breakfast as well. As a kindness to my children, I started working on our family's Halloween costumes. And my final #AdamsAct was not harming my four-year-old son even though he spray painted himself silver.

Along with the puppy. 

He must have heard my speech, because spray painting the puppy was pretty ballsy... just not exactly what I had in mind. 

In memory of another mischievous little boy I knew.

Day 25: Smaller & Worse, But Somehow Good Enough

Well this month, if I am being totally transparent, has not gone the way I had hoped. I was really excited about #AdamsActs this year and I had high hopes for what I would be able to accomplish. I felt like #AdamsActs in 2017 should be bigger and better than the previous years in honor of my brother who is, after all, forever seventeen.

Sadly, I feel like I sort of failed on bringing that dream into fruition. I really poured myself into the devotional (which is still available in the bookstore for all you slackers who haven't gotten it yet) and that left me feeling a bit dry and depleted going into October. Throw in a major home renovation on our old house and the overwhelming pressure to sell it as quickly as possible, add a dash of pneumonia and you've got my start to the month. Needless to say, the month has hardly been the "bigger and better" I dreamed it would be, instead I feel like it's been smaller and worse. In short, I feel like I've failed.

Normally, this realization would spiral me into a really embarrassing shame storm. I would feel all guilty like I have let you guys down, or that I am not doing enough to honor Adam. My survivor's guilt would kick in to high gear and I would revisit old thoughts that it should have been me that died so young and not Adam, because he would have made a beautiful and immeasurable impact on this world for good. And I do struggle with those things still to this day. I often feel guilty because I get an unbelievable number of requests and suggestions for acts of kindness I should do for others, and I feel guilty that I cannot read let alone do all of those things. I get so much encouragement, but I also get some private criticism. I am too Jesus-y for some readers while others are extremely disappointed that I do not share my faith enough saying I have "wasted my platform." Some think that I am "fixated" on Adam's death and that I would be further along in my grief process if I focused on God instead of worldly pain. Some of you think I am trying to become famous or brag about the nice things I am doing for people.

Ya know what though, this time I am not going to spiral into an embarrassing shame storm. (Okay, that's probably a lie. I will most definitely spiral - at least a little.) But here's what I know to be true:

I did not die when I was seventeen. I lived. And now I am here, and I am doing my best. I have zero ambition to become famous and my acts of kindness this year are more pitiable than brag-worthy. But I am here and I am doing my best. And maybe I have let some of you down, but one thing I know to be true is that I'm not really doing this for any of you. I love you all to pieces and #AdamsActs would not have the reach or power or impact that it has without all of you... I need you guys to be in this with me. But I never set out to do this for anyone here. I did it for Adam. And honestly, I did it for me. I did it for the little eleven year old girl standing at the foot of her mother's bed, staring at the deodorant without the cap. I did it for her. Because she stood there alone and afraid in that moment and tried to piece together what sort of emergency would make her mom run out of the house in the middle of the night in such haste she didn't have time to put on a cap. I did it just for me. 

If you are a Christian you might be thinking "see that's your problem, you should have done it for Jesus." Well, guys, I didn't. I didn't do it for Jesus, but just like everything else in my life... I did it because of him. I try to live my life in response to Jesus. Wanting to examine my own grief process and give myself permission to splay my deepest grief before the whole world is because he is in the business of healing and binding up wounds. In response to that, I participated in the process. I am just here, and I am doing my best. And I am thankful that Jesus is easier to please than people. He likes me just as I am, right where I am, and he'll take my best, all he wants is my best. And he knows why I did this, and ya know what, I think he still likes me quite a lot.

Today I sent some encouraging messages to people who get a lot of private criticism. I sent out a few free copies of my devotional and I also rescued a puppy. I left my car running in the street with my door hanging wide open and I chased down a lost puppy that was running around dragging its leash behind him. I got him to a neighbor of the owner who promised she would get the puppy safely home. I did not change the world and I did not magically convert anyone to Christianity via a blog post. But I opened my home to host our community group and I shared vulnerably and honestly in our discussion, and I invited people to explore a deeper faith with me in the devotional. 

I wanted this month to be bigger and better. But I am starting to realize that my part doesn't have to be bigger and better for this thing to grow. #AdamsActs is growing, in spite of me. I am growing, in spite of me. God is constantly redeeming and repurposing the pain of Adam's death and transforming it into something that is beautiful and meaningful. This is all happening in spite of me. And even though there are critics out there who want to tell me that I am doing it all wrong, I know that God is not one of them. The God I serve is willing to fill in the gaps and stand in where I come up short. I don't think I need to push that kind of God on anyone... the appeal of his acceptance speaks for itself. Because he knows that we are here, and we are all just doing our best and he is simply wild about every last one of us. 

Day 24: Farmer's Almanactsofkindness

My daughter London wants to be a farmer when she grows up. When people ask her what she wants to be and she tells them, "a farmer," without fail, they laugh at her. I get it. It's sort of hilarious and adorable that a kid who has only ever lived in the Rochester 'burbs would ever consider farming for her professional aspirations. Still, "farmer" has been her deadpan answer to that question since she was a toddler. When people laugh at her answer, I secretly cringe on the inside. I want to say "No! Please don't laugh! She actually reeeally wants to be a farmer and she is starting to think that being a farmer is a silly thing to do. Tell her farming isn't silly. Tell her that it's noble and it's hard and it is necessary for our people to survive. Tell her that prostitution isn't the oldest profession in the world, but farming is!"

Okay, maybe don't tell her that bit about prostitution. But DO remind her that God gave Adam and Eve one job - TO MAN THE GARDENS! Well, that ... and to not get the whole of mankind damned for all eternity. (Thanks guys for that, btw.) Point being: while - technically - the first command that God gave to man was to be fruitful and multiply, he first made plants and animals and then he made people to rule over it all. Prostitution came later thanks to that whole "fall of man" thing that happened because Eve couldn't just mind her own crops! 

Alright, now that we are all on the same page with:

A) not laughing at children for their life ambitions and

B) valuing all things farm and farmer

we can now move on to Day 24. Today I accompanied my youngest son, Jay, on his first field trip to the pumpkin farm. Since there is a morning class and afternoon preschool class, Jay's teacher was going to be spending her whole day out at a muddy farm with dozens of 4 year olds. We decided to bring Miss RolyAnn some coffee mid-way through her day. (Her name is actually Miss LoriAnn, but Jay has a bit of hearing loss and an adorable tendency to incorrectly pronounce things.)

He was very excited to give Miss RolyAnn her coffee and so celebrated the hand off by smiling as awkwardly as humanly possible. It started okay, but went downhill fast.

In addition to our little #AdamsAct at the farm, we also wanted to show some support to a local farm that could use our help. The Lexington Avenue Urban Farm here in Rochester, NY was vandalized (again) a week and a half ago. Sadly, many fruit trees were damaged and were likely going to start producing in the next year or so. Vandals apparently broke in and damaged the 1.3-acre garden that provides food for many refugee families in the neighborhood, as well as some of Foodlink’s programs. Sections of the fence were damaged, sheds were broken into and some gardening equipment was stolen, including a weed wacker. The exterior walls of the hoop house were slashed, and several fruit trees were damaged. Foodlink has estimated the cost of the damage at $1,000, however it’s too early to tell just how many of the trees won’t survive to produce.

I am including the link to the their donation page for those of you who would also like to show some support for a profession that is even older than our sin problem. To donate go to: THIS LINK, where you can select Lexington Ave Urban Farm in the drop-down menu to designate your gift directly to support their efforts to replace and restore what was lost, stolen or damaged. 

And remember... the only acceptable form of vandalism is:

Catching Up on Kindness: Kisses,Cousins & Candy Dinner

I once read a really sophisticated blog post (okay fine it was a makeup tutorial) where the lady referred to her readers as kittens. I won't do that, but sometimes I want to thank all of my kittens but I don't have the right word. Saying "readers" doesn't quite capture our relationship does it? I am open to suggestion here, but for now, suffice it to say that I am endlessly thankful that you all continue to show up, share my posts and use #AdamsActs in your own posts. I also appreciate your understanding while I was an absentee blogger over the weekend. I thoroughly enjoyed my time with my family in Michigan (which you can read about HERE), but felt a touch disconnected from all my precious kittens. 

Okay, I said I wouldn't call you that, but it's totally happening. I'm not any happier about it than you guys. Please suggest alternatives. 

As I mentioned before I'm having trouble with my website platform, so my most recent post (linked above) did not get sent out to all the coolest cats - my subscribers. To join that awesome club you can subscribe here. 

Now, we have a lot of kindness to catch up on! First and foremost, spending time with my family was a true kindness to me. It was very moving to watch my nephew Adam finish out his senior year by crushing their opponents. The GOREDHAWKS is it?

Then for day 21, I went to my nephew Ty's soccer game and tried to buy donuts for everyone afterwards but I got aggressively out-generoused by my sister BethAnn and her husband Dan. (This feels like a fun time to inform you that their full names are BethAnn and Dan Mann.) With donuts already covered, I needed to give back. So I gave BethAnn the greatest kindness of all - physical affection that she pretends not to enjoy but secretly adores. My other sister, Kristin, and I were able to see through her protestations for what they were - a cry for more affection.

Obviously this is her happy place. Day 21? Check.

We headed back to NY yesterday and my act of kindness was giving my kids "candy dinner" on the car ride home. On the drive to Michigan I deprived them of all drinks (and fun) so we could make really good time. And we did. With all those kids AND a puppy, we only stopped once. And that was for the pup! My kids were so dehydrated that stopping on the way there wasn't even necessary for them. For the return trip Melissa and I decided to make it a bit more fun. Enter: a dinner of candy and chips. My kids were chanting in unison "Can-dy for din-ner! Can-dy for din-ner!" Proof that this is out of character for me? In the picture below my kids were chanting "Who is this lady!? Who is this lady!?"

They each got their own bag of chips and a pile of Canada's finest ninety nine cent bags of candy.

I always feel slightly depressed after returning home from a trip to Michigan. I really love my family. On the way home Melissa commented on how many kids there are between the three of us girls and that every single one of them is great. Kristin and BethAnn each have four kids and I have five. (My mom proudly announces this fact to every person within 6 counties.) That's a lot of kids to cram into one house for a weekend, but they are all such cool kids it's nothing but a delight. I honestly get really emotional thinking about proud I am of who they are all becoming. It breaks my heart a little every time I pack up my kids and have them say goodbye to their cousins. 

I thought of Adam a lot this weekend. I felt a palpable relief being home with my mom and sisters and knowing that they. just. know. I don't have to tell them how wonderful and also heart-wrenching it is to see my nephew Adam also wearing #17 on his jersey. I don't have to say that Ty runs like his Uncle Adam. I don't have to tell them that I wonder how many kids Adam would have added to that crazy mix of cousins.

I don't have to say any of it, because of all my kittens, they're the ones who just... know.  

For Day 23 I did something that must remain a secret for now. I will likely post later, but for now I want it to be a surprise for this person. In the meantime, I am going to offer you the opportunity to watch two short videos of my hilarious nephew Camden. He is the youngest of Kristin and Joe's four kids. I was the youngest of four in my family, and I definitely feel his pain in this dance video:

And finally, a throwback video that I took when Camden and I were on the Sea Dragon together a few summers ago. His reaction was epic and hilariously disproportionate to the thrill-level. Sharing this with you counts as my #AdamsActs to you because I promise that it does not disappoint. 

Day 18: All The Yeses (and a Few No's on Accident)

Yesterday I mentioned that I had the opportunity to speak with this crazy bunch of sixth graders:

I shared Adam's story with them and I challenged them to participate in #AdamsActs. They have a board all ready and set up and I am anxious to see if they can fill it up with acts of kindness!

One of the interesting things their teacher (my friend Michelle) asked me to discuss with the kids was how to write with purpose. I was challenged by this because I still feel like I'm not a real writer. I am just a kid who wants to be a writer someday when I grow up. In my "real life" I am a mess, I'm a wife and mom and a mediocre daughter/sister/friend. I have no marketable skills or any qualifications or noteworthy achievements. So, who am I to tell a group of kids how to write? 

This is the process that every phony goes through. We live in constant fear of being found out. The more I think about it, the more aware I am of my fear and insecurity. I don't want to call myself a writer because what if the stuff I produce isn't any good? What if I call myself a speaker, and I stop getting speaking gigs. There is safety in keeping my dreams at arm's length. You cannot fail at something you do not pursue. 

 Here's the thing though, as scary as it is to fail at something meaningful, I am more afraid of doing nothing. I think I would rather fall on my face in front of the whole world because I am chasing down the person God has designed me to become than never scuff a knee because I didn't dare take a single step forward. So I did it. I looked at this group of kids and even though I am afraid to fall, I told them I was a real writer.

And I told them that they were too. 

For Day 18, I made it a point to say yes to the little things. When I was in a rush, but my friend/neighbor's daughter asked if I'd like to come up to her room to smell all of her chapsticks, I gave a hearty yes. (That's a lie. Because I'm the worst... I actually said "Oh honey, I actually can't stay but maybe next time.") Then I quickly said, "Wait ya know what? I must be crazy to pass up THAT incredible opportunity! Sure, I'd love to smell your chapstick collection."

Who could turn down this face??

When Jay asked me to sing Five Little Pumpkins for 16 hours straight, I did it. When London wanted to bring the puppy to the girls cross country meet, I said yes. When Harper, London and Jay wanted me to tell funny stories for our half hour drive, I said yes. Little moments of being totally present are all our kids really want, so I said as many yeses to silliness and frivolity as possible. 

We brought (almost) enough ice cream bars to treat Annalee and Marlie's cross country teammates after their race. #fail 

Another fail to add to the list was that I tried to take a Facebook Live video for my family in Michigan to watch the girls' race, but my battery died just as Annalee was finishing in first place. Sorry Grandma. 

Day 17: Video Blog feat. Tom, a Pup and My Bed Head

For Day 17 I spoke to a group of 6th graders about my 17-year-old brother who was killed when I was in 6th grade. The irony was not lost on me. I will post a bit more tomorrow on that, but for now you will have to settle for this video blog which captures the awkward family rejection that I experience on a daily basis. 

Please don't mind my hair, I just cut it all off and it's feeling very confused about what is expected of it. 

Days 15 & 16 - Kindness Co-op

I am going to combine Days 15 & 16 because I am a day behind on blogging. I blame Squarespace website swindlers (the people who make you buy your own name on the internet) because they won’t allow me to save drafts as I am working on them. They do this because they don’t just want your money, they want you to go absolutely insane. Well played Squarespace, you obvious victor you.

There is a bit of a theme to my kindnesses for these past two days so the last laugh is on Squarespace. Days 15 & 16 were really all about kids. The smallest of these #AdamsActs was for London and Harper (my own kids.) There was a bit of an altercation in the morning and we are really big on having the kids make repairs to their relationships with people when they’ve done something wrong or hurtful. They don’t just apologize (in fact I don’t like them to insincerely apologize ever) but they do have to acknowledge a few things. They must acknowledge:

1. This is what I did wrong.
2. This is why it’s wrong.
3. This is what I can do differently next time.

After acknowledging those things, they need to ask how they can make the other person feel better. After the struggle du jour, London decided that what would repair the damage to their relationship would be having Harper's help when cleaning her bedroom after school.

She doesn't exactly love cleaning by herself.

We always enforce that they follow through on the reparation agreement. This sounds like a lot of work, but I promise you that when you have a child with a behavioral disorder, there is a lot of opportunity for siblings to harbor resentment. This actually preserves relationships and in the long run actually saves a lot of time because they have learned how to resolve conflict themselves. Between this strategy and my husband's invention of The Tattle Tax, our children are practically parenting themselves.

So, here we are at #AdamsActs for London and Harper. They can both easily become overwhelmed with a multi-step chore. To make it more fun for them to work together, I will sometimes make these silly lists for them to break a big chore down into manageable - and sometimes silly - steps. They LOVE when I do this and it really is a kindness to myself because they work so much better together when the mood is light and playful. And a touch of potty humor usually does the trick.

This list:

Makes this job:

Suddenly way more fun.

My first act of kindness was to help my own kids, but my second and third #AdamsActs are about other kids. For the past two nights Tom and I spoke at two final panel discussions about foster care and adoption and I spent some time today connecting with a few different people from those meetings who wanted more information.

And finally, we signed up to sponsor a child through Compassion with our neighbors Danielle and Derek. You may find it ridiculous that we are going halfsies on a sponsorship, but look… these are some lean months for us and it would be reeeeeally easy to say no. But instead of saying “No, we cannot afford another $38 a month” we creatively decided that we probably could do $38 every other month! For some of us $38 is nothing, but for a lot of us it’s a really huge sacrifice to commit another $38 on top of regular giving. No matter what $38 means to us though, I can guarantee it means a lot more to these families who receive support through Compassion. I want to encourage you all to sponsor a child, or give to a different organization whose mission you value. And if you cannot afford to do it alone, grab a neighbor to share the burden with you. If you and your neighbor can swing it together, get the whole neighborhood involved. I don’t care if your kid’s whole soccer team splits the $38 a month… just do something! Do anything. And if we all partner together with these small kindnesses and small donations, we will collectively make a huge impact for kids like Erick.

Day 14: Remembering with Ribbons

One of the most powerful and healing results of doing 31 days of kindness in memory of my brother Adam has been seeing that so many people still remember him. His buds and former classmates share stories about him that I had never previously heard. But more than that, the participation in #AdamsActs has given my family the gift of knowing that while Adam’s life was cut short, his legacy of kindness has only grown and thrived beyond our wildest imaginings. For my parents and sisters, there is little that could bring more comfort than knowing that Adam was not forgotten.

I will be very honest though. Before starting #AdamsActs, we went a lot of years not feeling this way. I remember after Adam’s death people making off-handed comments like “my parents will shoot me in the head if I don’t get home on time.” I remember being so stung by comments like that, even though I knew they weren’t meant seriously or intended hurtfully. I simply felt like what happened to my family was forgotten. It made me feel like Adam died in vain. As an adult I now realize that people just say things flippantly without really thinking about being sensitive to people’s baggage. Still, I remember those years when I felt like Adam was forgotten. And it was really painful. For Day 15, we wanted to give the gift of remembering to another family who lost their son.

Michael Lynch was a fourteen year old boy who attended the local high school in our town of Irondequoit, NY. He was struck by a car while walking to school last spring, and died two weeks later. There was a wonderful outpouring of support from the community and many people expressed this by tying oversized green ribbons to the trees near the school. Twice a day we drive down the street where Michael was accidentally struck on the way to my kids' school, and I cannot help but think of his grieving family. Michael’s mother passed away only months later after a heartbreaking battle with cancer, leaving only his father and one younger brother behind.

I know that upheaval. I know turmoil of tragedy on top of tragedy. I know that sensation of getting knocked down by a wave of grief, finding my footing again, only to have another wave roll in and take my feet out from under me. And I know what it is like for those waves to calm down just long enough to look around and realize that you are standing there alone. So when I drive to school and I see less and less green bows along the way as time passes, I know how that might feel to Michael’s family.

For Day 14 we freshened up some of those green ribbons. We knocked on doors to ask permission to add a green ribbon (really a plastic tablecloth cut into strips) to the big trees and telephone poles near the school.

With all seven of us (plus one pup) we were able to cover all the big trees and most of the poles out in front of the school in less than an hour. My hope is that the reminder of those ribbons lasts much longer than it took to put them up. If those ribbons remind kids to walk safely, and for drivers to slow down and remain free of distractions, then it was a success. If those ribbons also remind Michael’s family that his precious life was not forgotten, then that would be pretty great too.

In memory of Michael and Bernadette Lynch

Day 13: Privilege.

My blog posts are officially a day behind, so if you haven’t caught up on all the blogs… don’t feel too bad. I mean, feel a little bad, but just enough to go back and get all caught up. For Day 13 I was a guest speaker at Monroe Community College. I was asked to organize a diversity training for the student leaders of a group called Campus Ambassadors. The training will take place over the course of a few weeks, but my favorite place to start is with a privilege walk.

I think that this eye-opening experience should be required in schools. There are a number of ways that these privilege walks are done, but here is how I do it: I have all the participants stand next to one another, holding hands, in a straight line. I read aloud a series of prompts, such as:

-If your parents were married for the majority of your childhood, step forward.

-If your grandparents owned property, take a step forward.

-If you can freely travel the world without fear of sexual assault, step forward.

-If you were brought into this country illegally as a minor take a step back.

-If you had more than 50 books in your home growing up, step forward.

-If you regularly rely on public transportation, step back.

-If you ever participated in an activity that required a participation fee, step forward.

-If you grew up assuming you would attend college, step forward.

-If you can easily and reliably find hair and skin care products for your ethnicity and skin color (at an affordable price), step forward.

These are just some examples of questions that I ask. I do not allow participants to speak during the exercise because I think that the most common reaction to becoming aware of our privilege is to explain it away. When participants are taking steps forward while their peers/colleagues/friends are taking steps back, they eventually have to release hands. In that moment when you realize that your privilege has benefited you in a way that others have not experienced, it's normal to feel guilty and want to explain it away. We want to say “Sure, I went to a well-funded school but that doesn’t mean it was easy for me! I still had to work really hard. Should I feel guilty that I happened to go to a good school?”

No. You shouldn’t. That’s not the point of the privilege walk. The goal isn’t to make the people who are really far out in front (almost always the white males) feel guilty. The goal is to make everyone more aware. So, I ask people to remain silent and aware. This time, I asked one of the white guys to volunteer to try walking in someone else’s shoes. I had him respond to each question in the opposite way than he would in his real life. So, for example, when I said to “take a step forward if you grew up with fresh fruits and vegetables available on a daily basis” he would not step forward if that was true in his real life. Answering the opposite of his reality allowed him to experience a very different perspective than if he answered these questions as a white man who came from generational wealth opposed to minority woman experiencing generational poverty.  

This volunteer was so far behind the rest of the group there was a point that he could no longer hear the questions I was asking. He was leaning forward, cupping his ear, straining to hear the next prompt. If that isn’t a powerful picture of privilege… I honestly don’t know what is. People want to deny that white privilege exists, but to me, that is it in a nutshell. That by no fault of his/her own, a person’s inherited circumstances can put him/her at a significant disadvantage. Comparatively, some of us have unearned privileges that put us at an advantage.

What I like about this visual image is that it shows that privilege is not just racial – it’s also about socioeconomics, class, gender, religion, culture and physical/mental health. Can you imagine answering this series of questions that have nothing to do with a person’s personal choices, work ethic, values, etc. and telling the kid who is a dozen yards behind everyone else to pull himself up by his bootstraps? Can you imagine saying “Hey, I know you can’t hear the questions anymore because you are so far back in your circumstance that you no longer have access to all the tools, information and resources that are readily available to me, but that doesn’t mean I don’t work hard. You just need to work harder!”

No, you wouldn’t say that. Because you aren’t an enormous dirtbag. Still, that’s what a lot of us do in real life. We talk about equal opportunity, but we don’t talk a lot about equity. Yes, we all have equal opportunities… but those of us that are really privileged are standing a couple feet from opportunity while others start off life a half mile back.

My brother Adam won a Martin Luther King Jr. essay contest while he was in high school. His essay was about racism and cultural appropriation. This was the early 90’s by the way. Let that sink in a minute. The stuff we are all in a huff about right now in America – kneeling during the anthem, exploiting black culture via cultural appropriation, implicit bias, racial and social injustice… these were things that my brother – a privileged 17-year-old white kid from the suburbs – was intentional about exploring and understanding. Not only was he aware of his privilege, he leveraged his power, privilege and influence to educate and inspire others to think differently.

I know that discussing our privilege is uncomfortable. I know that I will get really hurtful and even hateful messages from some of you about this topic. But I also know that I will keep talking about it anyways. Because as hard as it is to ask people to become aware and to think differently, it is also right. Not because it is what my brother did, even though I think it’s pretty bad to the bone that he did in fact live this way. But I will do it because it’s what Jesus did. Loving people beyond reason, seeing beyond wealth and beauty into the heart... that is what Jesus did. It’s who he is, and it’s who I am called to be. So for Day 13, I asked people to examine their own circumstances and imagine the circumstances of others. I encouraged them to be willing to lay down their privilege in an effort to create equity for a friend.

Day 12: Man cannot live on acorns alone

Well guys, we are a little more than 1/3 of the way through the month and I have arrived at the phase of October where I am exhausted. My little empath heart starts to fill up and crack open from all the heavy losses that so many of you give me the honor of carrying with you. I feel for you and with you, and like you, I get tired and weepy. I start to think how much better this would all be if Adam were still here and able to spend his life doing these acts of kindness himself.  I get worn down, but all your beautiful messages and seeing your creative #AdamsActs keep me so encouraged. I love it all so much and I am truly overwhelmed by the involvement and how it grows each and every year.

Admittedly though, I start to really stretch things at this point in order to consider them acts of kindness... like "I didn't ram the loud-talking lady with my grocery cart" and "I cleaned up the vomit with a happy attitude" or " I didn't call 911 to report the lady texting while driving even though I assured her (loudly and aggressively out the car window) that I would." 

See. These are really not kindnesses as much as they are very basic acts of self-restraint. And not even an impressive amount of self-restraint. Around the mid-way point in October I get to the point where I am just not being violent with anyone and am really proud of myself about that. It's super pathetic and quite embarrassing to admit this when I am sort of manning an international kindness movement. 

Still, for Day 12 I have stretched a number of things to the point that it feels like today was a success. For starters, I went grocery shopping for my family. I know, I know... that is more like a responsibility than a kindness BUT I have discovered that if you neglect your responsibilities (like laundry and grocery shopping) for unconscionable lengths of time, people start to celebrate as if this is an achievement. Aside from general busyness, I am also trying to stretch the grocery cycle to save some money. Basically, I have not bought groceries for my family since 1986 and the children have survived on acorns they’ve been harvesting from the neighbor’s yard.

I realized it was time to finally go get some essentials when I legitimately could not pack my daughter’s lunch. I was able to scrap together stuff for the other kids, but my 2nd grader London has Celiac and Hashimoto’s disease and is completely gluten-free. I realized we were in a dire situation when I could only send gluten in her lunch. And I don’t mean I would be packing food items that contained gluten, I mean that I would be packing actual gluten pellets and baggies filled with gluten dust.

Okay, so I still don’t fully understand what gluten technically is, but I know that my daughter can’t have it or she gets all sick and thyroidy. So, I finally went grocery shopping and for my second act of kindness, I decided to hand-deliver London her dream (gluten-free) lunch: a cobb salad. Because apparently my 7-year-old is actually a 45-year-old lady who’s cheating on weight watchers. She was thrilled.

In addition to the grocery shopping achievement (which included a candy bar and compliments to the cashier) and the special lunch, I spent the day working at the house we are trying to sell. Every day that I spend over there getting things cleaned, painted, repaired, etc. is one less day that Tom has to be there. He is pretty consistently going from his regular job directly to the house, working ‘til midnight or later. The children are acting like he’s one of those guys on Dr. Phil who has a secret second family on the side. Except his mistress is a tub of drywall mud. It’s all very scandalous and romantic.

In the evening, Tom and I were on a panel discussion at our church on foster care and adoption. We are passionate about advocating for open-adoption and supporting families who are providing temporary or permanent love and care for children in need. Even though it is an honor and a joy to be included in this, we are counting all the things as kindnesses because we are tired from a long week. 

And for my final act of kindness on Day 12, I lied to my friend Lexi about remembering a commitment that in reality I completely forgot about. I did this out of the goodness of my heart to keep her calm. See! If you’re a really desperate lowlife, you too can stretch almost anything into a kindness!

In total seriousness, I'm stretching simple, everyday things into kindness because I, myself, am feeling pretty stretched. I went into this month quite worn down from putting so much work into my little e-book (which is still available for $1.99 HERE) and also from having pneumonia. At the end of the day I still have an incessant cough, five kids, a house to fix up and sell and a world of grief sitting on my mind. So perhaps my real #AdamsActs for yesterday would be having a little self-compassion. I am learning (slowly) that nobody is ever as hard on me as I am on myself. Nobody is as concerned with what I am doing or not doing, as me. Nobody is as disgustingly aware of my flaws and failures as I am.

Well, except Jesus. He knows it all and I have discovered that he is much easier to please than people. Myself included. So, for Day 12, I am going to bask in his grace and generosity and I am going to ask you to count it all as kindness.

Day 11: Being Unshockable

Okay Frank Fans, we have MADE CONTACT! If you have no idea what I'm talking about then you need to go back and watch THIS. Tonight we finally got ahold of Frank on the phone. He and his wife and daughter are coming over for dinner (and the cake presentation ceremony) on October 27!!! I will do everything in my power to force Tom and Frank to let me make a video so you can see their reunion. Frank was genuinely touched that Tom remembered those things so many years later... and he said it didn't hurt to get some brownie points with this wife. #yourewelcomefrank

For Day 11, I treated this cutie and her mama to lunch. (Okay, maybe not her... she treated herself to throwing cheerios and sugar packets.)

I spent time with her and later, another friend who are navigating the ups and downs of foster care/adoption. We spent hours talking through issues with attachment, openness with first parents, and how to help siblings cope with changes to the family dynamics. I certainly don't have all the answers, nor am I an expert on the topic, but I have spent countless hours researching different approaches to loving a traumatized child. I have tried everything under the sun to help my son heal the wounds of a severed attachment and I am pretty sure I have logged enough hours with my son's attachment therapist to count as an intern.

A few years ago, our friends Brandi and Danny helped us create this video that would explain to people what our family was experiencing. It is strange to watch it now because we have come so far as a family. Most of our days are still hard, but they aren't like they used to be. During those really intense years, I felt like there wasn't a single person who could understand what we were going through. I prayed for just one person who had gone through it before us with any measure of success. I longed for someone to be unshockable. Someone who had answers and tools and parenting tips that actually applied to my life. Someone who would say "here's how to get urine out of the heating vent." or "I have a potion that will magically unbleach all your clothes." 

There was no such person for me. Partly because I was afraid of opening myself up to the inevitable judgement (we were often bombarded with advice that really missed the mark) and partly because people didn't even know that Reactive Attachment Disorder was a thing until recent years. There weren't many parents who walked this road before us (at least not with tools) and that kept me feeling isolated and lost. Today, I got to be the lady who walked the road first. I got to pass along the tips and approaches that worked for us. I got to encourage and reassure and remind them that however they're feeling is normal in our little abnormal world of trauma and detachment. I was unshockable. 

This may not seem like much, but I got to be the experienced mom that I prayed would come into my life years ago. As I was leaving this discussion I realized that God has taken every last thing I have learned through this process and he has made it useful. He has taken our hard days, months, years... and with them has worn a path for other families who are a few steps behind us in this journey. During the worst of it, I begged that God would equip me to be the mom Harper needed. I think I can finally say that - at least for today - I felt like I was.

Day 9 & 10: Look for the Helpers

“When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, ‘Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.’”

— Mr. Rogers

My two oldest daughters, Annalee (13) and Marlie (12) left Friday to go to the Adirondacks for a long weekend retreat with their youth group. Being 12 and 13 isn't easy. In a world where junior high girls are told that "real women have curves" and they must also have a "thigh gap" it is no wonder that girls in junior high can feel unstable! Society is a fickle turd, and the pressure that our kids face every day is overwhelming. They are supposed to fit in, but also be completely unique... go against the flow, but in a way that's charming and adorable, without being weird or acting like you care. Definitely don't act like you care! But, I mean... care enough to take a perfect selfie or else you're a total piece of garbage, but make sure the selfie looks like you didn't try. It'll take at least an hour to get a good, effortless selfie. You can have fat, but it has to be miraculously located in the right places so that you are curvy. If you have fat in the wrong place, starve yourself. Unless that makes your boobs small. It's better to be a little fat than to lose your boobs altogether. It's best to look like you have no makeup on, so get really good at makeup because it will take at least an hour of applying makeup to look like you aren't wearing any makeup. Also, your eyebrows should be somehow square at the edges. By the time you get good at giving yourself square eyebrows, that will be the dumbest thing you could possibly do and you will have to learn to make your eyebrows a hexagon or something. And eyebrows shouldn't ever under any circumstances look like they are made of actual hair, they should look like they were airbrushed on using a Kardashian eyebrow-shaped stencil. Also, just say no to pale skin, orrrr dark skin. You have to be mocha - regardless of your genetics, this is a non-negotiable. Also, play soccer from the time you are a fetus or you will not have a chance in the 7th grade. By then, players are practically in retirement. So 1) be born, and 2) start a sport immediately or you're a loser. 

That's a small taste of the pressure and unrealistic expectations that our kids face every day... and that's just the girls! There are academic pressures, social pressures, familial expectations, societal and cultural messages... it's an intense and scary world out there. Like Mr. Rogers, our kids need to look for the helpers. Days 9 & 10 were all about thanking the people who are there to help kids in junior high as they navigate life.

We brought Panera gift cards to the six youth leaders who spent the most time with my girls this weekend on the retreat.

I also bought some flowers and candy for a friend who took the time to step away with one of my girls when she was feeling down. It's not easy to send my precious newborn babies away for a whole weekend, but it helps knowing that they have good friends to listen, love and encourage them when they need it most. 

Bonus Update: We have located Frank - the hero of Tom's childhood misfortunes as told in THIS VIDEO! Tom has been working around the clock at his regular job, and on a house we need to repair and sell as quickly as possible so we have not met with him yet but we look forward to connecting with Frank and will keep you all posted!