Butting Out

God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,

Courage to change the things I can,

And the wisdom to know the difference.  —The Serenity Prayer

A mother is given the gift and privilege of knowing when her child is ready.  But for friends and for parents of adults, I may think I’m gifted, but what I assume is my privilege is really called interference. 

I wasn’t always so gifted, and regrets sometimes stir me into a sticky mess.  But mostly I was in tune with my little ones.  At two and a half, wiggling around on the changing table, Riley informed me that he would use the toilet “In six months.”  I said, “Good.  That’s when you turn three.”  In those following six months I’d get fed up with his diaper changes and ask, “When are you going to use the toilet?”  He’d always answer, “I’m not three yet.”  True to his word, the day he turned three he used the toilet, without help and has been using it successfully ever since.  At least, I assume so.

When Riley was three and four, I took him to a park district program two days a week.  They were kind and understanding enough to let me stay the entire time since he was afraid to be without me.  Family members would suggest I take him to a real pre-school and leave “to get him ready for kindergarten.”  But I knew he wasn’t ready.  Even though I was new to parenthood and didn’t yet fully appreciate the amazing changes those little ones go through, I knew my son and knew that preparation for five year old activities at four made no sense.  I was gifted in knowing my son and his needs.

My daughter was not as clear at expressing her needs.  At nine and ten she believed she needed to be with friends all day and have sleepovers every night.  One night, after kicking and screaming—figuratively—I held her tightly—again, figuratively.  She protested loudly, longly, tearfully until my arms nearly gave out.  Finally she settled down and settled into her own bed, all cozy and sweet.  She said, “Thanks for making me stay home.”

Aside from the classroom where it is not only my privilege, but my duty to know when students are ready to learn, be pushed and receive, my turn is over.  The privilege I had as a parent has come and gone.  I’m learning this the hard way.  Luckily my friends and family are patiently sticking around waiting for me to be ready to learn this lesson.

I have a friend who is in big trouble.  The problem snow balled so gradually until now she finds herself a victim of severe emotional abuse coming from her husband and children.  Their attacks are unimaginable.  She agrees that she needs to get out of there in order to recover.  And I, with great wisdom rooted in my safe and financially secure life—daht da da dah!—am here to tell her how to do it.  “Get a job.”  “Look here.”  “Go there.”  The answer is so clear to me, but she doesn’t do what I say.  I get frustrated.  I get resentful.

Since I don’t like being stuck in the muck of resentment, I prayed for an open heart. Whether you believe in a higher power or not, the act of earnestly praying is also goal setting, which has powerful results sometimes.  I got my miracle.  My heart opened unexpectedly, and led my head back to my little boy’s words: “I’m not three yet.”  My friend knows what she can handle and what she can’t muster.  She has great courage to continue to ask for help from others, to face the abuse and somehow find strength every morning to get out of bed with hope each day.  She knows that with her self-confidence diminished, looking for a job is a set up for yet another message of worthlessness.  Who am I to know when she’s ready?  In fact, by pushing someone when they’re not ready, I may be giving the message that they’re not capable of figuring things out for themselves.

My dear friend is finding her way out of the abuse with patience and persistence.  She has found the support of others in similar circumstance and help from a small group of friends who are looking for a temporary place for her to stay until she is ready.  

I’m grateful for my friend’s patience while I find my way.  I’m grateful I found my heart again, the real gift and privilege of adulthood.  I’m grateful I can shut up.

But if I could just make one more suggestion (Oh, I’m hopeless!): try this heart healthy recipe to help you open up.

Salmon Hill

4 individual filets of wild caught salmon

2 medium sweet potatoes

3 medium red potatoes

1 ½ c. low fat ricotta cheese

2-4 T. asiago or parmesan cheese

20 asparagus stalks

½ c. plain, fat free yogurt

Juice of ½ lemon

2 t. fresh or dried dill

Salt and pepper to taste

I’ve heard that omega fatty acids are better absorbed when combined with beta carotene. Here’s how we’re going to open our hearts:

Combine yogurt, lemon and dill and set aside. Roast quartered potatoes and largely chopped sweet potatoes until soft.  At the same time, for a healthier preparation of the salmon, bake covered in a 375 degree oven with salt, pepper and lemon for about12 minutes.  Remove from heat before it’s cooked all the way through.  It will continue to cook anyway for five minutes. Place four plates in your hot oven to heat during final preparations. Steam asparagus with a little salt and pepper on low for 5 to 7 minutes while you mash the potatoes and blend with enough ricotta and asiago cheese until you have your desired consistency and taste.

On each hot plate, lay out 5 asparagus stalks parallel.  Place a large dollop of potatoes on top.  Set the salmon on top and drizzle yogurt atop your fortress of health.  Know in your heart that you are ready to serve.  Garnish with fresh dill and enjoy with the best of them.