Month: January 2017

Flying High

/ Laura Phelan / Leave a comment

This week was a big one for my nine-year-old. She auditioned for the spring ballet at her dance studio and got in. This may not seem like an amazing feat, but for her it was monumental.

Two years ago, she auditioned for the spring performance and didn’t make it. It was her first major rejection in life and she took it hard. What a tough thing it is to watch your child experience heartache in any form. She thought the pain would never end.

But I helped her pick herself back up, congratulate those that did make it, and carry on. Over time, the pain receded. She danced in the studio’s production of the Nutcracker the next two years but refused to audition for the spring show. Then, last month, she informed me she was ready to try again.

“You know you may not make it,” I told her. “I want you to be prepared for that.”

“I know, Mom,” she said. “I still want to try. I understand. It’s okay.”

In that moment, I saw the wisdom and the perspective she gained from that moment two years ago. She has carried it with her, celebrating her victories with extra fervor, and facing challenges with an attitude beyond her years. She also has a bigger heart for those who seem left out or hurting. What a benefit to a hard life lesson.

As a society, we are, for the most part, terrified to watch our children fail. Now, as the millennials come of age, we see the effects of the trophy for all, helicopter parenting mentality. Corporations struggle to keep employees, and reality is much harder to face for many young professionals. For this reason, I am thankful for a failure at the tender age of seven for my oldest daughter. It has already shaped her in a positive way.

I would be lying if I said I wasn’t scared to send her to auditions last weekend. But I knew I had to let her go. img_3860

Of course, this particular tale has a happy ending. She worked hard, she gave it a shot, and she got in. This entire week, she’s been on cloud nine. She just keeps saying, “I can’t believe I got in!”

But that won’t always be the case. Now, it’s the spring ballet. Fast forward another 10 years and it’s college. And beyond. She will encounter rejection again. Her heart will hurt. But in those moments I hope she will reach back to her seven-year-old self and remember that she carried on. And two years later, her nine-year-old self made it.

Are you afraid of rejection? Scared to let your kids fail? I say don’t be. Yes, there may be heartache. But there may not be. And even if there is, there are lessons in the pain that can shape a person in lasting ways – ways that lead to love, acceptance, and also to determination and success.

The day after her acceptance letter, I had the opportunity to watch her in one of her ballet classes. She looked so much older than she seems at home, snuggled next to me on the couch. Her legs are longer, her body is stronger. While in class,  I captured this photo of her. Here she’s flying high.

I plan to hold onto this photo for the years ahead, for when she fails or falls. For when she’s hurting. I will remind her that there will be moments of rejection, moments of pain. But there will also be moments of great joy. Moments when she will feel she could just float on air. And I’ll remind her that one time, on a Tuesday in dance class at the age of nine, I saw her do it.

 

 

 

 

Making History

/ Laura Phelan / Leave a comment

Regardless of where you stand, today is one for the history books. I just finished watching our new President address the nation. You can probably deduce from my posts, but I didn’t vote for President Trump. However, I am an American, so I watched his inauguration.

What I heard was a populist address at the center of an ailing system. What I saw was a peaceful transition of power despite the division among the people. It made me remember why America is so fantastic.

We may not all agree with the new President, but let’s not lose sight of the fact that we are free to disagree. Tomorrow, women around the country will march for their rights. To make statement. A statement we’re able to make.

My strong-willed, six year old daughter has recently shown a fascination with history, in particular women in history. Over the winter break, she literally slept with a biography of Malala Yousafzai. I’d find her up past her bedtime, holding a small lantern, pouring over her story again and again. It opened up discussions about bravery, standing up for what is right, and our role as citizens in a free country.

img_6311Earlier this week, I took both my girls to the library. As we pulled into the parking lot, my little one announced she would be getting a book on Colonial times and Sacagawea. She did that and more. Her sister wound up with a biography on Abigail Adams.

Their choices got me thinking: we’re all beginning a new chapter in Amerian history together. There is excitement. There is dread. But the people of our nation are also awake from a dangerous slumber. People in both camps are ready for change, for action. I think that’s something worth noting. We are all part of this moment in history.

So what will you do with it? At our house, we’re reading. We’re learning.We’re talking.

Can I be so bold as to challenge you to do the same?  Visit the library with your children this week. Browse the non-fiction and reference sections together. Or go alone. Take home a book on an event or historical figure you may not know much about. An understanding of where we’ve come from will shape our decisions moving forward.

What’s more, the library is free and open to all. That means every parent in this country has a way to prepare the next generation of voters to decide for themselves what issues matter to them, which policies they agree with and which ones they don’t.

We are living in a new age, where discernment is imperative and communication is more important than ever. It’s a new chapter for America.  Let’s all help write it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

One Word

/ Laura Phelan / 1 Comment

In the last 48 hours alone, there’s been an abundance of words. President Obama’s last speech, President-Elect Trump’s press conference, and one Senator testifying against another for the first time in history over a cabinet position. Then there was my youngest daughter’s meltdown about having to wear her hair up for dance and the argument between the two of us that followed. So. Many. Words.
img_2334

My guess is you get it. You, too, are surrounded by words. Some are loving, yes. Some encouraging. But some are biting, ugly, even destructive. These words come from others, but they also come from us.

This New Year, my family took part in a different kind of resolution. In conjunction with my dear friend Jess’s website gather&grow, we sat down as a family to do something revolutionary in today’s culture. We chose one word. Just one. 

Jess included a few questions to help us come up with our words and a printable to write them down (you can get them both here). We gathered together with pencils, crayons, and rubber stamps to begin a year-long journey with a single word.

As a freelance writer, words are my livelihood. I’m also a people person who has no fear in addressing a room full of people. I literally live and breathe words. So choosing just one was a tall order. In fact, the idea wasn’t even on my radar.

Then one night over the holidays, my friend Josie came over to bring me a gift and stayed for a glass of wine. In our conversation, she mentioned she was doing the one word resolution, inspired by #OneWord365 and MyOneWord.org. I was intrigued. New Year’s night, after my family was all asleep, I sat alone, admiring our Christmas tree for the last time. The next day, we would take it down and pack everything away. trust

And there it sat. My word. Written in my own hand a year ago at an advent service. I wasn’t even 100% in on this one word thing. Yet there it was. How did I know it was my word? Well, to be honest, it scared me to choose it. It was perfect.

Words are powerful. They have meaning. Throwing strong words around lightly can be catastrophic. I think most of us can agree that regularly watching it happen on a national platform is, at the least, unsettling. For me, it’s terrifying.

So what if we all choose a word?  One word. What would the impact be around us? Why not give it a shot. Do you really want to grow this year? Think of a word you don’t want to choose. That’s probably the word you need. 

Now write it down. Hang it up where you can see it. Ours are on the kitchen bulletin board, on the wall the leads to the coat and bag hooks. We will literally pass those words every day for a year. And my hope is, for each of us, our word will guide us, shape us, change us for the better.

Happy New Year.