Of course, My Kids Will Need Therapy

I gotta love my time at MOPS.

As my sidebar states, 

One of my passions is coming alongside young moms on the road of life 

and sharing what's in my suitcase.

I admit that there are days that I feel "a little light in the suitcase" with nothing to give. And there are days that I'm certain women think I should pack up some of that stuff oozing out of the suitcase and move on down the road, thank you. But most of the time, I know God brings women into my life when we both need each other. 

We need to talk about the kids, our relationships, complicated adult stuff, physical ailments, other stuff (read: sex), our belief systems, our in-laws, our husband or our lack of one, weight gain, child training, surgical procedures, laundry stains, life, death and backyard science experiments gone wrong. We just do. Men need it in a different form (usually) than women, but they need it just as much as we do.

How can I put this bluntly without calling for a Formal Intervention?

...You...Need...Therapy...

I am becoming a solid believer in the fact that personal growth demands therapy.

(eyebrows lifted in skepticism)

Define that, please:

therapy

1.

the treatment of disease or disorders, as by some remedial,rehabilitating, or curative process: speech therapy.

2.

a curative power or quality.

3.      any act, hobby, task, program, etc., that relieves tension.

Come to the front of the line if you know you have some disorder and 
could use something to relieve tension. 

I have been privileged to have received the truest types of therapy at various times of my suitcase-carrying life. I have stuck my emotional straw into another woman's psyche and shamelessly drained her dry  because of my need. My list of therapists includes

• L...O...N...G phone conversations when my kids were small and I was somewhat immobile 
• walks in the park or around the block, alone or with a friend, sometimes at 2am with a screaming baby
• 2 friends from college and days stolen away to be just us again (interpret: giggly and sleep-deprived!)
• debriefing my hard-working husband in a torrent of words as he puts his car into park
• calling out to God, sometimes with words
• a sister (did I mention she's older? just saying')
• digging in the back yard...not to hide the bodies, but to say I was gardening
• coming alongside another friend to listen (listening helps me process where I am as I process where you are)
• Bible study groups
• blogging 
• texting things to people who actually understand I don't mean it
• cooking/baking
• telling our dog Lucy what is wrong with everyone, including me
• telling our dog Lucy what is right with everyone, rarely including me
• Psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs
• saying sarcastic things to children too young (or too new to America) to understand
• poetry (yeah, you wait. I may post it on a bad day...)
• journaling prayers
• you name it...I've probably used it for therapy...uh, wait. I take that back. I might not have.

A chance encounter, or a planned event, or a paid therapy session becomes personal growth as our goal is to BE PRESENT for each other. I am striving to be aware of my family and making sure that I'm not just here, but truly PRESENT with each one, each day (with the exception of the University kids who might get one text a week. Give me a break, there's a lot of them youngin's!) I'm striving to BE THERE for my friends, and sometimes I fail. 



So, yes, I expect my kids will need therapy.


Not just to talk about how weird I was or how embarrassed they were, but because I pray they will be healthy, growing adults that will carry their own suitcases, and sometimes need someone to help them unpack, and sometimes need someone to help them lug it, and sometimes need to share what they gathered on their way through this wonderful world.

...the type of things that I am beginning to recognize as 
Flowers From My Father.


 Enjoying them might be my one weakness.