02/27/2022
During a painful time in my daughter’s life, we had to be apart. Knowing how worried I was, a dear friend offered a way to reframe my fear.
She said, “I know you consider your daughter a Noticer, so maybe give this a try: When worry creeps up, try reframing it. Use worry as a cue to honor your child by noticing all the things she might notice. This can help you throw the right kind of energy at the pain and regain your focus.”
Honor her by noticing
For the first time in several devastating months, I believed this was not a hopeless situation.
Honor her by noticing
That was something I could do.
By using the directive to shift Worry to Awareness, I was able to connect to a hope-filled part of me, and she’s been by my side ever since.
Honor her by noticing
Those four words sustained me as my world crumbled, so perhaps they could be useful now, as the entire world collapses before our very eyes.
The level of devastation, pain, and injustice being inflicted on humanity is simply overwhelming. But what might happen if – in our own personal way – we honor them?
the Ukrainian citizens bravely defending or desperately fleeing
the bordering neighbors opening their doors
the parents and caregivers protecting their gender-diverse kids
the mother of Trayvon Martin, imploring us to keep fighting for equality, on the 10th anniversary of her son’s death
the educators and healthcare workers enduring unfathomable stress and strain to care for their students and patients
What if – in our own personal way – we honor them?
the helper
the translator
the artist
the activist
the protector
the peacemaker
the weary
the oppressed
the traumatized
the lonely
the lost
Honor them today by showing up fully in one interaction, one gesture of support, one donation, one risk, one phone call, one warm blanket, one extended hand.
Honor them by not shutting down… not turning away… not giving up on what seems like a hopeless situation.
Right now, I can’t help but think about my daughter’s tendency to stop and investigate every little thing when she was young. Every bug. Every tree. Every rock. Every sad person.
When Avery got to grade school, this tendency often got her in trouble. One day, her coach said she needed to stop lagging behind on the outdoor runs.
When I spoke to her about it, she said:
“I go slow so I can look at every crack in the sidewalk. Sometimes I spy a flower. Can you believe that? A flower growing out of cement!”
Dear daughter, I’m so sorry it took me so long to see it.
But I see that brave flower now; I see it growing from the hardest, cruelest, most desolate places known to humankind.
And I also see that I can be a part of nurturing the flower’s growth.
The flower is called Hope.
And I will honor Her by noticing.
© Rachel Macy Stafford 2022
Text in image: “I see that brave flower now, growing from the hardest, cruelest, most desolate places known to humankind.
The flower is called Hope. And I will honor Her by noticing.” -Rachel Macy Stafford
