Family Meals Together

Family meals have become a thing of the past. Which I find pretty saddening. I am not sure when this happened but it happened. And I'd like to invite you to reconsider it. And before you flip out with all your (valid) reasons for not dining together (soccer matches, work, homework, band practice, etc.) let me share my experience:

When my son came to me five years ago, he'd spent a number of years floating around in foster homes and children's homes (think orphanage, but with better regulations). He had not experienced family in the sense that I had (I refrain from judging anyone's definition of family here, note that I highlight my experience only). He was (and sometimes continues to) struggled with Reactive Attachment Disorder and attachment issues in general. I mean, that makes sense when you're 11 and haven't been in a home setting for long enough to really get attached, right?

So when he first came to me, we sat down and had dinner together. I don't recall what it was, but it was electronics free, sitting at the table, food on plates, drinks at table, having to sit across the table and be with one another from start to finish. There was no getting up when one of us was done unless we were both done. There was no just hopping up and running to the electronics. We sat. In complete silence many nights. But we sat and broke bread together. And it was awkward. Then, the next morning we did it again over breakfast. And it was really awkward. Then that night, we did it again and it was a little less awkward.

And now, we break bread together, sitting at the dining room table, electronics free 95% of our dinners and 90% of our breakfasts (he's a teen now, and so sometimes sleeps in on the weekends. I'm a quintessential morning person so I am up and ready to eat hours before he is ...teens, go figure!) It has become the cornerstone of our family definition. Not so much eating, because sometimes it's just a hamburger and tater tots, but the time together. We devote that time each morning and each evening to being present with one another. It has taught respect for one another--neither of us begin eating nor get up from the table until we're both sitting at the table and then both done. We take turns setting and clearing. We converse. We learn that even when we're mad, angry and upset with one another we always have a place at the table and it's ok to not talk and we're STILL breaking bread together...like a family, in the sense that I have experienced and wish for my son to as well.

For the record, our table does not look like this.
We often have mounds of junk mail piled up where we don't eat. 

So this week, as you are meal planning, consider including a family meal. Where you sit down together, and remain fully present to one another the entire meal. Electronics free (unless that's a device you use to communicate with one another due to various barriers to verbal communication). It may be awkward at first, and that's ok. You may get the stank eye from your children, and that's ok. It may take some training on your and your family's part, but that's ok too. Everyone sits down and waits until everyone is present to begin eating. Everyone remains seated until everyone is done. Everyone pitches in to set or clear the table. You know, like a family.

Or, at least, that's my 26.2 hungry cents worth!

Donald, lover of breaking bread together!

PS: There were MANY meals where we just looked at one another with disdain, meals which I was sure the plate would go flying across the table at my head, meals where harsh words were spoken, meals where tears were shed, meals where relationships were discussed, meals where cusswords were thrown, meals where laughter was had, meals where we ended up ordering take out (not all meals work out as the recipe indicates), meals where it all happens. We have experienced all the feels, emotions, highs and lows around the dining room table. It is our anchor.

Two Most Important Months

May & June are possibly the two most important months to me: Foster Care Awareness/Appreciation Month and LGBT Pride Month!

In our little 850 square foot home, we combine both of these months year 'round, really. But these two months are our's. They belong to us to celebrate. They are us!

When I was living in Florida, I had a burning desire to be a dad. I lived there for 7 years yearning to give a home to a child without one. Yet I never formally began the process. This was post-Anita Bryant and Florida still had archaic laws on the books regarding adoption by gays and lesbians. There was a court case where a gay couple had been fostering hard-to-place children but when it came time to make it permanent through adoption--the law said they couldn't! You read that correctly...for gays and lesbians to adopt was illegal! Against the law.

Lie. Some people said. But how could I when some friends and I had walked in the inaugural St. Petersburg Pride parade? When I had guided so many scared children to live their authentic lives? When I was so proud of who I had worked so hard to love? How could I bring a child into my heart and soul under the pretense of being anything other than who I was 100%? And so I didn't.

The first question I asked the trainer for my foster care class when I *did* begin the journey a decade later in Kentucky (right?) was about placing with an lgbt family. "Not a problem. My goal is to place children with the best home, I don't care if that's single, gay, married, straight..." GREAT! And so I began the process.

Six months later I had my bundle of joy. Two years after that, we were a permanent forever family.

And now, we celebrate Foster Care Awareness/Appreciation month as an integral and unfortunate part of our history, and LGBT pride month as a critical part of our present. What does the future hold? Lots of pride. I can tell you that.

I am proud of my son. When he first discovered, definitively, that I was gay he thought I was going to rape him. This was 9 months after being together. Now, 4 years later, he is active in his school's Gay-Straight Alliance! I am proud of myself because my son has PTSD flashback moments where he is transported from the present to times of trauma and I have learned how to bring him back. I am proud of my son because he was on the all F and D grade track when we became a family and now he finished middle school with a 3.75GPA (that's basically all A, B and a couple C grades all year...in fact, all middle school!). I am proud of St. Joe's Children's Home for being an advocate for children, not a pedagogy or political wind. I am proud of the little family my son and I have created together. It isn't perfect and it is super messy, but it is perfect for us.

So this month, if you are a member of the LGBT community please find something you're proud of about yourself. Dig deep if you have to because you are beautiful! And if you're not a member of the LGBT community, please respectfully join our celebrations to celebrate us--it's not your month but we do need you. And the other 11 months, remember we're still here, too. Remember the laws still do not favor us. Remember that it is your job to help dismantle that year 'round...don't be our allies in June because we throw great parties, be our allies in the voting booths too. Be proud of that.

...feed just one...

A few years ago my mother bought me a book about Mother Teresa. I will admit, the book was not a "fun" book to read and it actually took me several attempts and years to make my way through (most of) it. It just wasn't my style of book. I don't even recall the name of it. Regardless. . .

In it, there was a story. Either she was being interviewed, or just asked questions, or just talking or teaching who knows (clearly the book was memorable) and the question was posed (paraphrasing):
Mother Teresa, how do you get up each day and feed these children, knowing there are thousands more and you do not have enough to feed them all?

Mother Teresa (paraphrasing): If you can't feed 100, feed just one.

This quote has sustained me many times. I was a foster parent; I am an adoptive parent. I always wanted a large house with lots of children. The child God entrusted me to raise needs to be an only child for various reasons. And I need to be a dad of only one child, for various reasons. Sometimes I get bummed because I want more children, damn it! And sometimes I get bummed because I wonder if when I am old, I will have my own child and grandchildren around me or if it'll just be me and my dog enjoying the lazy days in our RV on the beach.

But oftentimes, I get overwhelmed because there are so many children who need loving homes. And I have one of those loving homes! One of the hardest things for me to do was to formally close my home as a foster home and request to be taken off the referrals e-mail list for kids needing foster homes. It closed the opportunity to foster and adopt more children, and in my heart I knew in that moment it was a door that was permanently being sealed shut.

So I often return to Mother Teresa's wisdom: If you can't feed 100, feed just one.

Sometimes we think we have to do big things to make big differences, but we don't. We just have to feed one to make a big difference to that one person. Their belly is full. Their heart is warm. Their spirit is nurtured. Our Calling is manifested.

If you can't feed 100, feed just one. Who are you feeding today? Please send me your stories of feeding just one, or perhaps stories of being fed, along with your permission or not to summarize and share. If you have an event coming up soon, or in the distant future, please let me know so I can help you.

Additional Information:
My friend Lorilea and I are co-chairing (she doesn't know that yet) a Christmas in July brunch to benefit the children living in and supported through St. Joseph's Children's Home (Click here to learn more about St. Joe's). We don't have the details yet, but please stay tuned.

My friend Robyn and I are going to attempt the full Carry the Fallen Ruck March (22 hours of walking with a full pack on) to raise awareness about suicide prevention within our military veteran population (Click here to learn more about: Active Heros) I walked with her a few hours last year in honor and memory of my own father, a fallen hero, to say it was "a good time" is misleading...but it is a good time to feed just one. One person we'll never know or meet perhaps, but we'll be able to feed them anyway. Perhaps not nutritionally, but we all need more than physical nutrients in our lives.

I will try to post here. But you can also like my professional FB page (Click here to like: Infinite Balance Massage) where I will, no doubt, solicit support in helping to feed just one.

I. Can't. Do. This. As I do.

As my regular readers know, I've recently become a doting dad. I am so proud of my kiddoe and the progress he has made over the last nearly 3 months. There have been some uphill battles, yet there have been many more triumphs to be celebrated! ...increased desire to read (I believe reading is essential to so many things in life), better reading comprehension, nearly perfect scores on vocabulary assessments/tests for four weeks solid, more confidence in both math & science, social skills allowing him to make new friends, integration into a brand new family, decreased cussing and....and...and the list goes on.

There are days, however, that I end the night totally exhausted and think, "I can't do this." One such night I was depleted, I was in tears, my body ached to the same level of my heart. I think what we parents of children in the foster care system fail to share with each other are the hopeless moments. The moments where we wonder if love will overcome. Will 1, 5, 10, 15 years of neglect, abuse, abandonment, etc. be undone and redone in a healthier way? Maybe I'm just alone in this feeling at times? Yes, there are REALLY awesome moments to celebrate, there are equally difficult moments where doubt DOES begin to creep in. I believe in sharing this moments of despair, perhaps someone else can say, "OH MY GOD, I feel the same way too and you got through it? Maybe I can too! Maybe I'm NOT a bad parent because I feel this way..." Again, maybe I am alone in this feeling because I don't hear others talking about it.

But there is hope.

And I was reminded of this hope when I felt hopeless and like a miserable (MISERABLE I SAID) failure at mile 20 of my first marathon. I began to believe that I could not do it. I distinctly remember making the fatal flaw of stopping to pee, my legs froze in those few brief seconds it took to eliminate whatever drips of hydration I may have been holding on to. Then they began to shake and twitch, which sent this message to my brain that I couldn't do it, despite the months of training, reading and preparation. I remember seeing my friend Yadira during this period of doubt, and the doubts were quieted for a brief moment. Brief. Somewhere around mile 22 I caught back up to my running buddy, Trino, and began to verbalize that I couldn't do it. He kept saying, "but you are, look at you, you just took another step." "But I can't, Trino, I can't." "But you are, Donald, you are." and so this banter went back and forth until mile 25 (somewhere there was a cheer squad including a clown, signs and lots of crazy antics from my friends) when I saw the finish line sign. But doubt crept in. I thought they were tricking us and we had to double back through the neighborhood first. But with Trino alongside me, giving me encouragement truly at every step, I did cross that finish line. And what a glorious fucking finish it was! I remember going to the soda fountain and getting a coke. I skipped diet for that day. There was a big thing of rice and beans from the Colombia restaurant. I was enamored with my new, shiny mylar blanket. My boyfriend at the time even made it back in time to see me cross and help hold my wobbling body. On that day, I thought I crossed the finish line because my leg and body muscles were strong enough to transport me 26.2 miles in 4+ hours. Now I realize that's just my ego talking.

I didn't finish because I was personally strong enough; I finished because I had a support team to lift me up and propel me along the path when I was NOT strong enough. And I can do this too, not because I am strong enough but because those around me won't let me fail--THEY are strong enough to carry me when I am weak.

So yes, on this day when I am behind on reports, filing my taxes, dealing with tummy issues in the home, a yard that needs to be cut, a court date for expired tags I TOTALLY forgot about and a bank account that I refuse to look at..my brain might be telling me I can't, my mouth might be saying I can't, but damn it my--and your--actions are proving that we can.

Yes, Love is enough. Hope is enough. And there ya have it, a month on hiatus but my 26.2 exhausted cents worth anyway...