The Wind and Waves

One of my kids is becoming pretty obsessed with travel, with seeing the world, and specifically with Japan. (I think the Japan thing is due to some RIDICULOUS show that she watches regularly, and it’s not Marie Kondo’s “Tidying Up”, I can tell you that.) Anyway, she has mentioned many times in the past few days that she wants a job where she can travel and see the world, and specifically that she might want to live in Japan. She does have some sensitivity to the fact that this might completely break my heart, even though I haven’t mentioned it, because she has said several times, “Mom, I know you’ll miss me and I’ll miss not being here for all the family stuff.” Mind you, this is the same kid who didn’t seem like she would ever attach to me, then told me a few months after arriving that she wanted to build a house in the field so that she could always live close to me and her dad. I am choosing to view this new development not as her not feeling as attached to us, but rather as the healthiest and most developed form of attachment, the kind that feels secure no matter the situation and can follow its dreams.

All of this talk about moving and seeing the world makes my heart clinch up when I realize that, in today’s society, having your adult children and their families just a few streets over or across town is truly unusual. Our family has been blessed that we all live very close to each other, attend the same church, etc, but that’s NOT the norm (and thank goodness for me, Kraig had already made the choice to live away from his family; otherwise, I would never have met him!). I know that as time goes on and your kids grow up, you come to terms with their choices for their adult lives and you happily spend whatever time with them you can get, but it’s a painful thing to think about today. It hurts a little more to think of these three with whom we haven’t even had much time with anyway. I feel like I’m making up for all the years apart as it is, thinking of a future apart makes me sick inside.

Last night I was feeling pretty ick (in addition to the fact that I don’t have a physical voice) about this and I was reminded of a night on our fall break cruise that I have mentioned here before.

Kraig had told me something one of our kids said that made us realize that the kid is still VERY attached to someone in the first country and I just felt waves after wave of fear that this child might choose to leave us and go back to the first home once the age makes it possible. With that fresh in my mind, I was praying in regard to all of my kids and the fears I have that we aren’t enough, that we haven’t done enough, that we got the new kids too late to attach the way we need to and that we may have somehow taken away from E and K in the process. I know, it’s a ridiculous spiral and it’s my natural personality but I think adoption makes all of these feelings so much more acute and the spiral so much more intense.

 

Anyway, I was actually in the tiny shower in our tiny room on a cruise ship being rocked by a hurricane when I was feeling this hurricane in my own emotions and God so clearly said to me, “You CAN’T lose any of the five of them because they aren’t YOURS to begin with. They are mine. You stood in an altar and gave each of them back to me, two of them as babies and the other three as teens. So you don’t have to worry about losing them because I have them. And I’m way better at all of this than you could ever be.”

It’s not frequently that I can say I felt like I had a very specific word from God, one that could be quoted, but this was one of those moments. I often feel things impressed on me, or I feel a sort of message in my spirit, but this was a very clear and specific word. And I couldn’t help but feel both relieved and chastened, all at the same time.

 I say it all the time, but parenting is not for the faint of heart. It’s such a weird dance of holding on and letting go. It’s a tug between them driving me crazy and thinking of the days when they are grown with great glee because it means we all survived versus the days I look around the dinner table or in the rearview mirror or around the couches in the tv room and think that I won’t survive the void when all five of them are gone from under my roof. But on both types of days, I would do well to remember the message that God gave me as our ship rocked and rolled in the hurricane waves off to the side of Cuba. No matter the sea… stormy or still, wind-tossed or peaceful, He has them in the palm of His hand. They are His, not mine. And He’s the only one who is obeyed by the winds and waves.

What Now? A Victory for Empathy

"I don't have any posterboard at home and my mom couldn't take me to get any. There is a business in our neighborhood and they put a pile of trash tiles out back every week or so, so I always get some for class projects." This was the answer given to me by an industrious and creative student when I asked her why she did her project on a ceramic tile. I honestly wasn't expecting that at all, I was expecting her to say that she felt like it was the best medium for this particular project. She didn't say it with any shame or expecting any pity, she said it as if it were the most normal thing in the world to tote a heavy and fragile ceramic tile into class when a creative project is due. Because that's just what she did-- she made it work. However, from that point forward I kept a stock of posterboard in my room for her to use for projects until her upcoming graduation.

"Do you care if I take some of those feminine products leftover from the bathroom? I don't have much at home and that makes it hard every month." This was the question asked of me after prom by a sweet and beautiful girl. She said it quietly, with a little bit of embarrassment, but also with a confidence that she deserves cleanliness just as much as the next person.

The student who creates a battle over every assignment and never has a pencil... the one who smells bad and the kids around wrinkle up their nose and ask me to light a candle... the one whose family receives assistance but whose parents never seem to think of the kids when they make purchases...

I can't tell you how many situations in public education where it is apparent to me that kids are the losers in every circumstance. And yet, for most of them, they make do. They scrounge. They are industrious. Even when they shouldn't have to be.

So when my Holocaust Literature class started making decisions about this year's memorial projects, I knew of one that I really wanted to see get off the ground-- a CHS Pantry. We will come up with a creative name for it at some point, but it's basically a place kids who need them can go (confidentially) to get school supply and hygiene items. I explained this need to a mixed group of students... some of whom were shocked at the idea that a need like this can be real ("So all girls don't have access to pads and tampons???") and some of whom knew exactly what the need is because they live it themselves.

One of the specific projects that set out to raise money for the pantry was the benefit concert group. This year I was more hands-off the memorial projects than I ever have been in the past. I've slowly been weaning myself from the need to take control (haha!), but this year I really stepped back (mostly out of survival-- I have found that parenting five teens in my house takes a lot out of me that I had previously used for the 119 teens in room 222). I gave them some class time to work, I had them submit an initial plan and some followup checkpoints, but for the most part it has been ALL THEM. And I have to say, this year has probably been our overall most successful year for memorial projects, so maybe I just needed to back up already! ;)

This group worked very quietly. Their project was scheduled for tonight, so the grade was already submitted before their event even happened. Every time I talked to any of them, everything seemed to be handled, so I left it with them. I guess they inspired major confidence in me because, for the first time EVER for a Holocaust Lit Memorial Event, I did not feel one ounce of anxiety or stress over it. When we pulled into that parking lot tonight and I saw how many cars were there, then we walked in and saw almost every seat full... I was thrilled. Then the concert began and my thrill turned to the deepest pride and appreciation.

The student who emceed the night was incredible. She had the perfect mix of personality and professionalism and came across as so much older than a high school student. Several of the performances were students from the Holocaust Lit class itself, plus several other CHS seniors, a Bradley student, and a group of 3 alums and another guy who are all students at Lee. What an incredible night of talent!!! The one thing I wish I could do is sing and MAN, tonight made that wish so much deeper! I got teary a time or two, thinking about the fact that 7:50 AM on Tuesday morning will not find that Holocaust Literature group sitting in room 222.

When all was said and done, we left with over $300 and several bags full of supplies for the pantry. As I told those four kids in a text, they participated in a process that is so necessary in this world but also so rare: They LOOKED around them (something the vast majority of us don't do, thanks largely to our self-interests and technology), they RECOGNIZED a need, and then they ACTED on it. And because of those actions, the commentary from the top of this blog post will start to be eliminated.

These four kids are WORLD CHANGERS, plain and simple. They are leaving CHS better than they found it. They are reaching outside their own circles, they are winning the battle against apathy, they are claiming a victory for empathy, and they gave me so much hope and joy this past semester and tonight. When I teach Holocaust Lit, I DO want my students to learn about the Holocaust. But as I tell them, if we leave it in 1945, we have done an injustice to the survivors and the victims. What can we learn about the Holocaust that can make our own world a better place? My final lesson in that class is called "What Now?" and it's one where I tell them about various agencies and non-profits and missions and causes that exist in the hopes that they will find their way down a path of social justice and action. Tonight, my purpose in teaching that class was fulfilled. They "got it". And I am so stinking proud of them.

{I am also thankful to the parents who had a helping hand in this, First United Methodist Church who allowed them to use their facility, and to the performers themselves who performed for free in order to raise the optimum amount of money for the cause.}

One Year, or the Year of One

I have written a New Year's Eve reflection post for as long as I can remember and this is the first year that I have put it off until the last possible moment because the words just really aren't here.

2018 has been ... something. It's been beautiful, it's been hard, it's been scary, it's been rewarding, it's been a year of questions and hope and fulfillment and grace and mercy and uncertainty and insecurity. And based on my fb feed, it's been a similar sort of year of contradictions for everyone I know.

In some really important ways that I don't want to detail here, it's been a year of reconciliation and healing, reconciliation and healing that I'm not sure the second parties were even aware of, but I certainly was and I needed it. God has been so present and offered a balm to my heart that had been broken by some people really close to me. He also used Brene Brown's book, Braving the Wilderness, to show me that I was probably as responsible for some of those hurts as the other parties were. So this year has also brought some accountability to my own spirit and some much-needed correction by my Father.

My word this year was "one". I wrote this post last January as the Lord crystallized what He was calling me to over 2018 and it certainly was a year of "one".

I'm ashamed to say it publicly, but I spent more time in His Word and with Him (THE One) than I ever have in my adult life and it still wasn't as much as it should have been. However, new mercies and all, and I get to take 2019 to try and build on what we started together in 2018. And I will.

I was probably most successful with "one" in regard to my immediate family. The first six months together, which happened to be the end of 2017, were very much just blindly finding our way. In 2018, I have been able to really focus individually on each one of my six. I was able to be more intentional with them, we did the Love Languages test and figured out how to best love one another in the way each person wanted to be loved rather than the way that we most want to love.

Time with my extended family looked different this year, as my dad faced a pretty significant and extended health crisis. It was hard to walk through that with him and my mom, struggling to stay confident and full of faith for them when my own heart was so scared of losing him. It was really the first time in my adult life that I have faced the mortality of my parents or Kraig's and it's not something I am ready for, I realized. However, God was faithful and He has allowed all of us more time.

I had planned to spend the year collecting my previous writing and, I'm also ashamed to admit, it's one of the only things I have ever stuck to with such commitment. The second portion of that intention, though, was to write regularly and I failed pretty miserably at that. Again, new mercies. 2019. ;)

I had planned to see things as "day one" and not "one day", to focus on the right now. What I did not expect at all (do we ever?) was my own health scare, an event that forced me to live for over a month as if I only had this ONE day, because I didn't know what tomorrow held. A cancer scare prompted by a finding on my first ever mammogram that led to a second mammogram, an ultrasound, and then a biopsy meant that for one month, I lived with a huge and silent fear (I only told about three people about it). However, the most beautiful word in the English language, benign, was the final report (followed by "6 month follow-up", but I'm living in the moment, not a scary future).

I don't know that I would say I learned more about myself this year, but I think I finally accepted many things about myself this year. I decided that I was going to focus on some self-care this year. Not self-care like getting massages or going on great trips (2019? hello?), but knowing what I need in order to be at my best for everyone else and then making that happen. I made time alone a priority. I made sleep and increased water intake and decreased sugar intake priorities. I rediscovered my insatiable thirst for reading from my youth and read like a fiend this year. I leaned on certain friends and I allowed myself to pull away from others.

My professional life in 2018 is not one I will remember with great joy, but I believe that God is at work there as well. My fall 2018 Holocaust Literature class truly saved me this semester. I believe with all my heart that God placed each student in that class because He knew exactly what I would need from them and it was provided.

Mostly, I will see 2018 as a year of growth, and with growth often comes struggle and discomfort. My family grew up and we grew together. My marriage grew stronger. My faith grew intensity. My outside relationships grew discernment. My heart grew fortitude. It wasn't necessarily easy to grow all of those things this year, but it was necessary. I am thankful to leave this 2018 and to take with me all that it gave me, as well as to leave it unencumbered by some of the things it took away. God is good and we are blessed.

Angela, our Beautiful Thing

In the mad rush of the middle school cross country state meet taking place on the Saturday before we left at 4:00 the following morning for our cruise, then getting back the evening before school started, then enduring the most hectic and insane week possible at work last week, I haven’t really had time to reflect on the season. The state meet signified, not only the ending of the cross country season, but the official end of middle school cross country in this house. Although I look forward to many more years of high school cross country, it makes me so sad to close the door on this chapter because it brought such beauty to our lives. Emma decided kind of on a whim to give it a go in 7^thgrade and I was so proud of her for being so brave and strong to try a sport that was unfamiliar to all of us and one that she didn’t necessarily have other friends doing. Kelsey didn’t even think twice as a sixth grader, knowing from the start that she wanted to join the team and gave it three years of her life, three joyful years of hard work. The girls got to run together in 6^thand 8^thgrade, which was a lot of fun. Then cross country provided a people and a focus for Roman in his first year in America and public school, and he and Kelsey ran together last year, as 7^thand 8^thgraders. Finally, this year, cross country gifted Angela with friends and a physical confidence that she had not had before. It was a blast to see my two youngest as teammates, running together for their 8^thgrade seasons.

Tonight was the middle school cross country banquet. The first award presented was the Coach’s Award, and almost as soon as Coach Thomas started talking, I knew who the recipient was going to be. One of the things she said is that she can see this particular person one day becoming a coach herself, which is exactly what Angela wants to do. As I listened to that beautiful tribute to and description of my girl, I couldn’t help but look back on the journey we have taken and I could so clearly see God’s fingerprints all over it. 

Last year, I begged Angela to run. She absolutely and stoutly refused. So every single afternoon, I went to CMS and picked her up at regular school time while Roman and Kelsey had cross country practice, Francisco had cross country, and Emma had volleyball. Every single meet and game, she dutifully accompanied me to cheer for the rest of the crowd. It made me sad to see her on the sidelines of everything, as Roman and Francisco made friends and connections. I was so worried that she didn’t seem to have any desire to find her niche. 

Then in November, we went to Vanderbilt to the International Adoption Clinic for what I thought was a certain type of testing but ended up just being a sort of counseling eval for all three kids. They each talked independently with the psychologist, then the psychologist, me and each kid talked. Although I was highly irritated that we had taken the time and miles to drive that distance and hadn’t gotten what I had asked for, a few valuable tidbits came out of it and one was from Angela. The psychologist, who had talked alone with Angela MAYBE 15 minutes, told me, “She said that it was really good and important to her that she got to be by herself with you in the afternoons while her brothers and sisters had sports practices. She really enjoyed those days and it seems like it went a long way in building a bond between the two of you.” I almost teared up right then and there. I’m tearing up now, thinking about it. What I had seen as a failure to connect had actually resulted in Angela feeling closer to me and more secure in our relationship. God knew that she needed one-on-one time and would never ask for it, and so He arranged divinely appointed afternoons for the two of us. We didn’t do anything huge on those days, either! We went to Target, Dollar Tree, Walmart, got ice cream, sat in parking lots and waited. And talked. And, apparently almost accidentally and certainly without my realizing it, bonded. Look at God.

And that bond has grown and grown over the course of the year since those afternoons. This year when it was almost time for school to start, Angela told me, “I’m running cross country this year.” Of course I was elated, and this season has been incredible for her. She has found a friend group and increased self-confidence. She has found motivation and a strong determination. Watching her run, I see the strength and resilience in her that brought her this far in her life. And as many times in the past, I see the self-awareness that she has that goes so far beyond her years. Halfway through the season, as her times were better and better and she was consistently running in the fourth position, I said, “See how well you’re doing? You could have done this last year too.” 

Angela’s immediate response was, “But Mom, I wasn’t READY last year.” ……… UM. Ok. I guess I still have a lot to learn from you, my girl. How much wisdom is there in that, to do things in YOUR time rather than when others want you to, when it feels like makes the most sense, when it would be the most fun… to wait until you’re ready. How much frustration could we all avoid if we would wait to do things till we are ready? And I know that God had other important work for the two of us last year, the work of building a relationship. If she had let me push her, in all of my ignorance, not only would she not have been ready to run, but we would have missed the opportunities we had last year to connect. 

But this year, she was ready… so ready. And she exceled. And every word Coach Thomas said tonight about her was the truth. When I look at Angela, all I see is Gungor’s song, “Beautiful Things”.

All this pain
I wonder if I'll ever find my way
I wonder if my life could really change, at all
All this earth
Could all that is lost ever be found?
Could a garden come out from this ground, at all?
You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of the dust
You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of us
All around,
Hope is springing up from this old ground
Out of chaos life is being found, in you
You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of the dust
You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of us
Oh, you make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of the dust
You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of us
You make me new,
You are making me new
You make me new,
You are making me new

When I think about that little 9 year old girl and all that she lost…. when I think about the pain… when I think about the chaos it must have felt like in the next couple of months… when I think about the walls she built, the ground of her heart that hardened, the dust of hopes and dreams she lost along the way…. And then I see this beautiful thing that He is creating, the hope, the smiles, the laughter, the silliness, the strength, the friendships, the joy…. I am so eternally grateful to have a Father who not only knit us together in our mothers’ wombs, but who will re-knit us together when the tragedies of this world tear us apart. He makes us new, and Angela is a living representation of how a loving Heavenly Father makes beautiful things out of us.

https://www.facebook.com/athena.b.davis/videos/10156758365374771/?l=2060203908736360991

Modern Day Prophet

On Sunday morning, our cruise ship docked in Tampa. I was wearing one of my favorite shirts, a shirt that was an adoption fundraiser for another family that says, "Be Brave". As we moved in a long line from ship to card check to passport check to customs check to passport check, an elderly customs official read it aloud and said, “I like that.” I smiled and nodded, kept moving. He took a couple of steps after me and called out, “I especially like it because it has mountains on it. I am a mountain climber.” I politely said, “Ooh, that’s really cool! Mountain climbing would be awesome!” and again, kept moving. There was a mad rush of humanity behind me who had been standing with luggage for 30 minutes, waiting on the doors to be opened and they did not have time for me to chat with the customs official. He reached out and grabbed my upper arm in an urgent sort of way and kind of turned me around to look at him. Then he looked deep into my eyes and said, “When I got to the top of every single mountain, do you know what I saw?” At this point, I realized this mattered, at least to him and me (probably still not to the hundreds of people behind me who were now stopped, waiting for me to continue dragging my million pound suitcase of dirty clothes that I have wrestled through the whole maze), and I came to a complete stop and looked back at him. “What?” I asked, expecting, “Beautiful views” or “Endless skies” or something. He pierced me with his gaze and said, “More mountains.” 

WHAT??? Are you kidding me right now? I stopped this entire line for, not something encouraging, but something PESSIMISTIC??? Come on, dude! I just kind of nodded and smiled and got a new death grip on my bag, shoving it ahead of me to the escalator. In the rush to get our bags to the shuttle, load everyone on the shuttle, hop off at the car and put the luggage rack on the back of the car, strap down all the luggage, argue over who was driving first, cool the car off, and assess how long it would be until we were home, his words kind of drifted out of my mind. 

{Also, ummmm…. MY PHONE WAS BACK ON. The world! Social media! Notifications! Texts! Emails! I had pictures to post and stories to tell!} 

It wasn’t until later when I was taking my turn to drive that his words stopped drifting and settled down in my consciousness like hailstones pelting from the sky. One at a time, sporadically,    

                    drop. 

                                                                          drop. 

                         drop.

It was then that I started to ask God, “What was that about? Did You send him with a negative message to me? Was he not from You at all, but from the enemy? Was it neither of the two, just an old lonely man who wanted to chat with someone? Show me what I am supposed to take from that.”

See, the night before had been an unexpectedly challenging night for me. Kraig had shared something with me in what he thought was just in passing but that had really shaken me up. Without sharing too much detail, I worry a lot about attachment and connection with our kids. It’s a serious fear in adoption, but especially in an adoption where you choose to love kids who are nearly grown. It’s another blog post entirely, but the link to this story here is that Kraig had told me something that made me realize that a connection one of our kids had to someone in the first country is still very present, even over a year after they have been home. And it spooked me. I had been in a real tailspin the night before, worrying about that and other issues that we have and are dealing with. God had given me a reassurance the night before (again, another post), so why on earth would He send this man to basically take that reassurance and throw it aside, instead emphasizing that, “And hey, once you get through this, there will just be something else. And something else. And something else. You’re never going to reach the top of the mountain just to enjoy the view.” What a discouraging word. 

So, in keeping with something I am trying to make more of a discipline in my life, I just asked God, “What am I supposed to take from that?” and sat quietly, waiting to hear an answer. I can’t say the answer was anywhere near as clear as the one I had gotten the previous night about a different situation, but I did feel that He was gently reminding my spirit that our journey in this world WON’T ever be easy, or complete, until we are passed from this world. And, also, that easy isn’t the point.

I think the message the sweet customs man was trying to share with me and the one that the Lord wanted me to take is that it’s not about the mountainous journey, the treacherous pathways, the rocks that tumble in front of us, the beautiful vistas along the way, the storms, the sun, the exhaustion, the peak, OR THE NEXT MOUNTAIN. It’s about being brave enough to carry on. It’s about the strength we find in Him through our weakness. It’s about the fellowship we share with Him when we are in the darkest place and no one could understand or maybe they could but you can’t even tell them anyway. It’s about His sweet whispering under the rock ledges as we wait out a rainstorm. It’s about the joy of creation spread out before us and taking such delight in what He has made while simultaneously knowing that He made us with the same care and delicacy that He made the canyons and the cliffs. It’s about sweating through your clothes as you wrestle an overweight suitcase (and an overweight 40 year old body but that’s another story) up and down ramps and escalators, only to be stopped in your tracks by a modern day prophet dressed in a US Customs uniform. 

Kelsey and the Land of Enough

I’ve got this amazing kid who lives in my house. Well, I have five amazing kids in my house, but this post is about a certain one. My Kelsey is coming to the end of her last middle school cross country season. Kelsey is one of those kids who was blessed with a tremendous work ethic and incredible heart, but not as much of that gift that some people have of a natural ability that comes effortlessly. She has to push and work for everything she gets in the classroom, in the swimming pool, on the cross country course, and on the volleyball court (a sport that she decided she didn’t have enough love for to make the effort worth it—a fact I greatly respect and one that shows her self-awareness).

The other day, Kelsey came home telling me about the people she is recruiting to the swim team. As she is talking, I feel this twinge inside because I know the chances of these people being better than her at swim are very good. It’s the same twinge I felt when she was encouraging people to join cross country. And when she insisted that Angela run… the sister who beats her by a full minute in every race… the sister who has never run on a team before… the sisters who love and support and encourage each other. And when, after sixth grade volleyball, she begged friends to try out the next year… friends who made the team and she didn’t.

The thing about that twinge is that it illustrates precisely the difference in me and Kelsey, a difference that proves she is a better person than I am.

We live in a society that operates in a philosophy of scarcity. It’s an economic concept, a philosophical one, an ecological one, a political one, and a psychological one. It shows up at our workplaces, in our elections, in our friendships, our bank accounts, on our teams, and… dare I say it???... even in our churches. Whether we openly admit it to ourselves or not, we have a belief that there is only so much of everything—success, money, power, popularity, jobs, relationships, luck, goodness—to go around, and so if you have it, then there isn’t going to be enough for me. Not only is this completely false in almost every aspect, it’s not biblical. The fact of the matter is that we have enough. And there is enough to go around. The New Testament church lived by this system and the Body of Christ is called to it today.

Brené Brown has studied and written extensively on the concept of scarcity and the ways it impacts our daily living. She wrote, “This internal condition of scarcity, this mind-set of scarcity, lives at the very heart of our jealousies, our greed, our prejudice, and our arguments with life.” That is exactly the root of our complex relationships with the desires listed above—success, money, power, popularity, jobs, and relationships.

So what’s the answer? It’s what Kelsey has already, and did at a very young age, figured out and somehow manages to live by. It’s what her 40 year old mom still struggles with every time she sees someone else achieving or receiving what she wants. The answer is to realize and live in the Land of Enough. When you operate from a place of enough, when you live in the Land of Enough, you know that there is always room at the table for you. You want to write a book? You don’t have to feel twingy every time you hear that someone you know is writing one. Their book doesn’t edge out yours. There is always room on the shelf for more books! Your friends made the volleyball team and you didn’t? There are two other sports you love and enjoy. You have enough sports in your life. Your sister runs faster than you? Cross country is all about beating your own PR. It’s somehow both a team sport and an individual one, and the stronger each individual, the better the team. So having a fast sister on the team means that the team does better! Those strong finishes are enough.

Kelsey has learned that when you live in the Land of Enough, you become a thankful giver. You can encourage others to join your teams and activities because you know that there is always enough to go around. You give others affirmation, time, encouragement, and YOU. This is what is so magnetizing about my youngest girl, the reason people are drawn to her and love being around her. It is emotionally rewarding to be around someone who is fully invested in YOU because she isn’t always trying to look for an angle or be on the alert for a way that you may somehow one-up HER.

Kelsey writes something on her wrist before every race, and it’s so appropriate for the way she lives her life. She writes “relentless”. I think she got it from a Missy Franklin book she read and she fully embraces the idea of pushing herself to her limits. The beautiful thing about Kelsey is that she knows she can be relentless in her pursuits without walking over others. She knows she can achieve her own personal best without being threatened by the personal bests of others. I have so much to learn in this life, and I should start by learning from those in my own house. Enough. We are, we have, ENOUGH.

Cited:

https://eewc.com/scarcity-vs-abundance-moving-beyond-dualism-enough/

Brené Brown's Daring Greatly and Taming the Wilderness