Alison Hodgson

Expert on the etiquette of perilous times.

Breakfast in Bed

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You might notice that this dear girl’s eyes look a touch squinty. Poison ivy, or oak or any number of things was the culprit. Fortunately she’s doing well.

The other day I wasn’t feeling so hot. It was one of the last days of spring break. The kids were all sleeping in and I got up early with Paul but wanted to go back to bed. My reflexive shame kicked in and the monkeys starting beating drums, “You’re so lazy. You’re such a loser. You will NEVER finish your proposal.” (It almost always comes back to the stinking proposal, but that’s another story.)

I went downstairs to get a cup of coffee and realized I was hungry. In a rare moment of self compassion  I decided to make myself breakfast in bed.

Later, when Eden got up, she came to my room and saw the tray on my bed and asked what I was doing and I told her.

“You just said my dream out loud.”

“What?”

“It’s my dream to have breakfast in bed.”

“I’ve made you breakfast in bed.”

“But I had to ask for it. My dream is to just wake up and – there it is. You know?”

I did. As much as I preach the need to “Make a request” it is so lovely when someone knows you so well and surprises you with exactly what you want. I tucked away the reminder to do this for Eden some day soon.

Paul is sick today. He has finally learned to just take a day and get a lot of rest in order to avoid dragging for a couple of weeks.  He called into work and then put himself back to bed. Eden and I left him alone until late in the morning I asked her to sneak into the bedroom and get something off my nightstand.

She brought it right back with the report that Paul was stirring. “We could make him breakfast in bed!”

I asked if he was really awake. She assured me he was. I should have run up myself to double check, but Eden already had a tray and was picking out Paul’s favorite bowl. I didn’t even know he had one.

While Eden poured the milk and cereal, I doctored up a mug of coffee, grabbed a napkin, a spoon and a pretty dish towel. Eden stripped a small branch from the redbud in a vase on our table and I filled a little  glass bowl with water. These niceties, I don’t want to say they’re wasted on Paul, but they’re really for Eden and me, I know.

Eden led the way, I carried the tray and the dogs followed along.

Unfortunately Paul was snuggled under the blankets, fast asleep. Eden crept to his side and whispered, “Do you want breakfast, Daddy?”
“No thank you.” He whispered back, ever polite.
I carried the tray to his side. “Honey, Eden made you breakfast in bed.” He opened his eyes, took in the tray and then we exchanged a glance. 

We both knew he just needed to sleep and yet… Paul rolled over and pushed up onto his elbow. I gently set the tray on the bed. He took a few sips of coffee and ate a couple bites of cereal then thanked Eden. We left him to go back to sleep with the big black dog sprawled beside him.

Years ago, not too long after my dad died, I said to a friend who was a social worker with Hospice, “Don’t you feel like you know so much more about how to support someone who has lost a loved one?” I had learned so much as my dad was sick and dying about the logistics of suffering and assumed she, who had walked with dozens of families through the valley of the shadow, would be even more equipped.

An expression I can only describe as stricken, came across her face. “You know, I actually feel less prepared than before. I have seen time after time, something that would be perfect to say to or do for “that” family is the last thing that would be supportive for “this” one. I’m actually stressed that, no matter what, I’m going to say or do the wrong thing.”

When someone we care about is in crisis it can be hard to know what to do. Some of us get so tangled up in our worry about doing the wrong thing, we fail to reach out at all.

Others of us know exactly what that person needs and, with a heart full of love, barge in with an unwanted, albeit lovely, tray.

It is such a relief to remember that there is grace for all of us, still.

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Started a post today, but didn’t finish it.

I’m busy.  Paul has extra work and a trip looming.  The girls still go to different schools and I still neducate Christopher…sort of.
I’ve exercised a so much today and I’m so tired, but I have raised my standards, so I need to go spruce the house before passing out.
Also, I’m working on a stand up bit for the writer’s conference, my writer’s group sponsors.  I don’t feel the angst of last year, my first time doing  it, probably because I didn’t schedule another speaking gig on an entirely different subject the week before, like I did last year.  I don’t feel stressed, but I need to knuckle down so that what I have to say is tight and entertaining.  It is so fulfilling making people laugh.  Last year I was completely strung out under the stress of “doing stand up” since I am not a comedian.  Now I know that my task is to just tell funny writing stories.  That I can do, whatever you call it.
Today was a really good.  I accomplished a lot and not very much depending on what categories you you might be counting.  And if you had a bird’s eye view of me, depending on when you were looking you might have thought I was wonder woman or the laziest lady in the world.
I was in the cross hairs of grace and works and let me tell you it’s a wondrous place to be.  
I want to live there.

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First Day of School

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Here we all are on the way to Lydia’s bus stop, which is at the neighbor’s.  Eden, Christopher and I were already outside documenting her first day, when Lydia came rushing out panicked that we were late.  Christopher shouted something annoying, then Lydia told him to shut up, which provoked him to shout even louder to me that Lydia had told him to shut up and then I shouted at him to shut up and get in the picture.  

Perfect we ain’t.  

Fortunately, we believe in asking for forgiveness and in extending grace, which we did as we walked to the bus stop where we took this next picture.

That’s better.
Do you see that Kindergartner?  Look at that sweet and eager face!  The first day she made friends with every kid in her class and specified Lydia, J.P., Ellie and Sydney.  The second day she was talking about Lydia and Dandy.
“You mean Sydney?”  I asked.
“Oh yeah.”
Today she came home with the sad news that she and Lydia had a fight.  We’re sorting out the details.  Apparently the teacher had to intervene, calling, “Girls, girls that’s not forgive.”
This is.

Day 14 – Early Edition

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Paul is winging his way around the world as I write.  He has spent the last couple of weeks in Vietnam.  This is the last trip in a series that have been long and frequent since Thanksgiving. Last year was very light for travel until late November and he’s been gone off and on since.

We need the man.
The kids and I are fine for about a week, but by Day 8, 9, 10 the wheels start to come off.  We’d never gone this long and certainly never with as much travel preceding it.  The elements of all four of us being not fully recovered from the flu and my sister, generally a source of help, having a newborn and needing support herself, had never been factored into the equation. This trip was a doozy in so many ways.  
But we’ve made it.  And we couldn’t have without my mom, my sister, Torey, and my brother-in-law, David, my friend Sara and her husband, Rob, took all the kids for an overnight so I could go to a retreat with my writer’s group, Krista took Lydia for a day, Dan made us a delicious meal, Sherry who kept calling to check in, never mind the chaos of her own home at the moment and my other friend, Sheri, who tried to take Christopher for a sleep over before sickness intervened but, later, let me take two of her boys on a day where she needed help and we desperately needed company.  Thank you all.
The past year or so I have been ruminating on the subject of community, how and what it can look like.  I guess what I’ve been making up is that you have to save up your need of others for crisis, like it’s a bank account that you’d better be careful not to overdraw so that there’s something there in an emergency.  Of course, most of us don’t want to be draining and taking in relationships, but how do you ration your needs?  And why look at kindness from others as a commodity, as if it’s a thing that you are in control of when it’s really a wondrous gift you get to receive.  
A friend of mine who has a few years and a lot more wisdom on me described “bearing each other’s burdens” like the Bible talks about, in a new way.  I had always seen in as a sort of one to one exchange and I have experienced it that way too, in prayer.  There have been times where I can feel a person’s pain and I carry that person with me throughout the day, praying and grieving for them.  My friend said she sees carrying each other’s burdens as all of us together holding on to this big tarp or carpet.  Everyone is holding it and walking together.  I don’t know if my friend, Kris, said this, but now when I picture it, I see weary people being pitched into the center and carried for a while, all of us our sharing the load.  
That might not be the way it is, but it resonates with me.  I guess what I’m figuring out is that if someone taps me on the shoulder and gestures that it’s my turn to be carried I want to scramble up without arguing why I shouldn’t get the ride, why I don’t need or deserve it.  I’m also beginning to understand that I don’t have to worry so much about exactly how I am going to hold on to the tarp when it’s my turn to carry.  I am beginning to believe that the onus on me is to commit to love, to lean in to listen and to quickly obey when I’m told what to do – whether it’s praying for someone, making a meal, writing a card, sending money or just picking up the phone and calling a friend.  
Yesterday, Dan, a friend and fellow sufferer of insomnia e-mailed me the offer of a meal, “Cooking is the way I know to make life better.”  He called later to figure out the details and I felt such a rush of gratitude knowing that he understood my sleeplessness, the offer of the meal was secondary.  Last night we met at my sister’s (we are all friends) and ate Dan’s delicious meal.  I love sitting around the table with family and friends enjoying a good meal and the peace and joy that can come when we are all together.
I guess I want to look at community like a good meal with friends.  Last night I didn’t buy the groceries, nor prepare the meal.  I didn’t set the table and, other than clearing a few things, I didn’t even clean up.  Despite all this, I was given a full place at the table.  I was warmly welcomed and, when I lifted it, my plate was filled.

Happy Wednesday

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Sorry everyone for being so whiney and pathetic.  Insomnia sucks but, as my wise brother-in-law, David, said just the other day “If everyone is still alive, there is always something worse.”

My kids are healthy and well – loud like a stick in my ear drum – and just fine.  I don’t want to take that for granted.
Today I am going to be thankful for Christopher’s passion, for Lydia’s sensitivity and for Eden’s fierceness.  I am going to be thankful for the essence of who they are, the unique way God created each one and I’m going to trust that He has given me what it takes to raise and guide all of them.