I’m just going to warn you—this message is going to have typos. I don’t have the luxury of time to proof it multiple times like I normally do before I post. There won’t be a ton of photos either. I’m hoping you can just imagine with me. Right now, I am conserving my energy; I’ve had my head down since February 4th, pouring myself into an immense project that had been waking me up at night for months.
But this morning I had to stop and write to you.
I came across something this week that you needed to see.
But first, let me back up.
Since the last time I wrote to you in this space…my parents left their little Floridian yellow house to settle into a retirement home.
I yearned to be strong for them… to acknowledge the sacrifices they were making… to recognize the stress of having to go through a lifetime of items and retain only a few… of saying goodbyes to people and places they love… of embracing uncertainty that comes with new beginnings. So each morning during my stay with them, I anchored myself by walking down to the neighborhood park where I used to swing Natalie when she was little. But this time, it was me who would swing. When I pumped my legs hard enough, I could see beyond the trees. Just the sight of it sparked an internal shift from uncertainty & sadness to hope & gratitude.
I’ve never loved someone through their last and final move, but I am trying.
Trying looks like checking in frequently, sending cards, and having long talks about the happenings of our lives.
And when my parents say, “thank you,” I am reminded that the trying matters more than knowing.
Since the last time I wrote to you in this space… my twelve-year-old daughter and I saw an x-ray of her right foot that revealed severe structural issues. The image explained so much about her pain yet told the story of a debilitating future.
Avery held it together until we got into the sanctuary of our car. I took her hand and began to speak. Avery shook her head, so I anchored us in prayerful silence.
I’ve never loved someone with an x-ray that predicts an adulthood of chronic pain, but I am trying.
Trying looks like doing daily stretches together, taking her to physical therapy and doctor’s appointments, and reminding her of all the things she still can do.
And when she says, “thank you for being here with me,” I am reminded that the trying matters more than knowing.
Since the last time I wrote to you in this space… I could no longer ignore the urging in my heart to write a guidebook of hope to help relieve the pressure many of our kids are experiencing in this distracted and demanding modern world. The book proposal was so well-received that it has been fast-tracked to publishing. I’ve never written so intensely and so deeply in my life. Although I reached the half-way point in the manuscript last week, I have only seven more weeks to write the second half. The task ahead of me feels daunting and nearly impossible, but I am certain this is what I am supposed to be doing with my life right now.
I’ve never written a book to help adults walk beside the young people they love as they navigate difficult territories, but I am trying.
Trying looks like getting up at 5am to reach small goals that will make up a completed 65,000-word manuscript… it looks like reaching out to dear friends who understand the magnitude of this endeavor… it looks like holding my cat Banjo in prayerful silence and writing in the warmth of the sun.
And then the youngest member of my Soul Shift course messages me to say, “When I want nothing more than to destroy everything I am and everything I was, your words say, ‘You were not born bad. Your gifts have never been allowed to flourish.” I am reminded that the trying matters more than the knowing.
Since the last time I wrote to you in this space… my long-distance friendship with beautiful Alice of Rwanda has deepened. When this online community purchased all of the necklaces she made in a mere two hours, it validated her story, her work, and the way she provides for children in her home and her community. As Alice began working on another large batch for our community, she brought me into the process. Not only did I see the lengths she goes to get supplies and gather sisters to help her create, but I also saw the many ways she carries, leads, mentors, and builds up women in her community through her handcrafts. Alice has attended far too many funerals these past few months and is gravely worried about her sister with cancer, yet she radiates the light of hope and faith in each photo she sends.
I’ve never loved a friend who endures so much hardship and heartache, but I am trying.
Trying looks like asking her how I can pray for her… encouraging her with Soul-Building affirmations… letting her know how much I value our friendship. Trying looks like letting Alice know when someone in America wears her necklaces or bracelets and how they feel the love she pours into each masterpiece.
And when Alice says, “Sister Friend, I thank God for you, your good heart, your love for me, and your wish to walk beside me,” I am reminded the trying matters more than the knowing.
Since the last time I wrote to you in this space…
I sat in a tiny recording studio with Avery. A few months prior, she’d written a beautiful song called JUST BE. Her guitar instructor Corey was deeply moved by it and felt certain it needed to be accessible to our fast-paced, stressed-out world.
I sat quietly throughout the recording, taking in the momentousness of this occasion. When we got the recording back and began listening, Avery plugged her ears. She did not think the beginning of the song sounded like her.
“Why did you not tell me?” she said looking distraught. “Why did you not tell me I wasn’t singing like I normally do?”
It took me a moment to respond, but when I collected myself, I gave my child an honest answer.
“At age four, you tearfully laid your little ukulele at your feet and said, ‘I just want to be good, Mama.’ That was the end of me critiquing, dictating, and judging your God-given gift.”
I expected Avery to be solemn and maybe even shocked by this information, but instead she began to laugh. Finally, she said, “Ok, but NOW I want you to tell me when I am not singing my best. I can take it.”
And with that, we both laughed and decided she could ask about a re-do on the vocal track.
The second time around was tremendously different, and the result was astounding. When I shared the news with the Hands Free Revolution community that Avery’s song is now on iTunes and Google Play, Avery received the most profound affirmations about the calming effect of her voice and her message.
I’ve never raised a Noticer, and a decade ago, I did not know the first thing about loving this child who’s pace of life and inner fiber is in stark contrast to the pace and fiber of this world. I struggled at first; I inflicted pain at first, but I kept trying. I kept trying to know her, nurture her, and accept her wholly and unconditionally. The result is imperfectly beautiful and unbreakably strong. Avery is her own person, and her voice is exactly what the world needs.
Now that I have caught you up to speed, I must show you what I stumbled on this week.
I’d just dropped Avery off at guitar school and had an hour to walk around the nearby neighborhood like I always do. I was walking around the same loop when I discovered a tree-lined walking path. How could I have missed this all these months? I wondered.
As I began to walk down the path, I felt tremendous comfort in the fact it was here for me on this particular day. We had received more upsetting news about Avery’s growth—this time, it was her back. A follow-up x-ray revealed significant growth in the curve in her spine. On Wednesday, she was measured for a prosthetic that she will wear every night until she stops growing. The hope is that it will prevent further progression of the curve and the need for surgery.
Between the x-rays and the book writing, I needed this path and the refuge it offered.
About a mile along, you’ll never believe what I found. Out in the middle of nowhere, there was swing, but not the single-person, playground type-of swing; it was the sit-beside-me, lay-your-worries-down type-of swing.
It beckoned me to sit down and take a load off.
I anchored myself there for a good twenty minutes, and I thought about the past few months and how much I’ve missed writing to you. I wondered what unknowns you face, what deadlines daunt you, and who you have to be strong for right now. I imagined you sitting with me on that swing in connective silence, just holding each other’s hands.
At 6:40 I told you I needed to start walking back. I hesitated to tell you why because it might seem silly to some, but then I remembered who I was talking to…
“At seven o’clock on the dot, Avery walks out of class with her guitar in hand. The first thing she does is look for me. And when she sees me, she smiles with happy, crinkly eyes. That smile, combined with the setting sun and the guitar, creates an image that I seal into my brain to refer to in hard moments.”
As I walked away, I kept looking back to see if I’d dreamed up this swing in my mind; it couldn’t possibly be true.
But it was there… and that is not all.
When I looked back, I could see beyond the trees.
Just the sight of it sparked an internal shift from uncertainty & sadness to hope & gratitude.
Look with me now, my friends.
And be reminded of this hopeful truth as you face your unknowns: it’s the trying that matters more than the knowing.
I can’t wait to see what the trying looks like in your life.
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My friends, I really miss writing lifelines to you in this space but know that I am still writing beautiful lifelines to you and the amazing young people in your life, they are just going into my fourth book that I look forward to offering you next spring. In the meantime, I have some beautiful opportunities to share with you. Please join me:
I’ve been invited by the renowned 1440 Multiversity to lead a restorative weekend retreat in the redwoods of Santa Cruz County, California in October. I will be teaching components of my transformative online course– SOUL SHIFT— and would be OVERJOYED to meet you there. Click here for all the details and registration.
You are invited to join my family as we celebrate East African Changemakers & support the work of African Road at the 2019 African Road Gala Fundraiser on May 4 in Portland, Oregon. Our beloved friend Steven Turkunkiko founder of the Togetherness Youth Cooperative is making a long journey to share the dreams and stories of his resilient community who holds a special place in our family’s heart. Click here to RSVP.
Alice has made another beautiful batch of necklaces as well as a small of bracelets for our community. If you'd like to purchase, please do not hesitate to get one here. I expect them to sell out very quickly. Given that the border between Uganda and Rwanda was recently closed, Alice has lost a tremendous market. Please let me know if you would be interested in having another chance to purchase her handcrafts in August when they could be delivered to the US by our dear friends at African Road. Alice is so grateful for your support.
Also, many people messaged me last fall when I wrote about the Learning Trip Natalie and I took with African Road last summer. I recently learned there are a few spots open for the Summer 2019 team going to Rwanda, Zanzibar and Dar es Salaam, Tanzania. Although the trip is designed for people 18 and older, special exceptions can be made. Please click here for all the information you need regarding the trip. If you have specific questions, please direct them to info@africanroad.org.
My friends, I wish you a blessed Easter filled with divine invitations that lift your weary heart and strengthen you for whatever lies ahead. There is always room beside me on the swing for you. I love you.
wondered where you were. I should have known you were busy with a new book. Looking forward to reading it. Today was the day I needed to hear from you. Thank you.
You fuel me, dear Annette. I love you and miss you.
That’s a lot to go through Rachael. Just wanted to say I have friends whose 12yo has the same as Avery and has to wear a torso body brace 23hrs a day. It was tough at first, as it co-incided with the move to High School, but now things are good. She got hers in a jaunty blue & white wavy colour and can pick a different print each time she needs a re-make. She likes to challenge people to punch her in the stomach because her ‘abs’ are so tough! Praying that Avery will find the same acceptance with the situation.
I will definitely share this story with Avery. Thank you. This gives us HOPE!!!!
Thank you for all that you share. I’m sorry to hear about Avery’s physical problems. May I suggest you check out a little medical device that I found recently that has relieved pain for me. It may be just what she needs if she has to deal with chronic pain.
https://www.oskawellness.com/
Thank you so much! I will check this out.
I needed this message today. Thank you!
Oh my goodness. You are on the right path in so many ways–the path of grace. Despite all of your own heart-wrenching moments, and because of them, every time you write you create a “lay-your-worries-down type-of swing” space for all of us and probably yourself. THIS BOOK–“a book to help adults walk beside the young people they love as they navigate difficult territories” goes straight to my heart, and who better to write it than you?!! It’s the path you’ve been walking and sharing for years that has made you a role model for parents everywhere <3
Oh Sandy. You have been walking beside me the past few months as I write this book! In fact, I am working in a chapter right now where I quote you! You changed the course of my life by describing VALIDATION – what it is and what it is not. I can’t wait for everyone who reads this book to be changed by your wisdom & insight. You are an angel to me!!!
Rachel, …and you to me. I can’t wait to read it! It sounds like Avery is facing some big challenges. Thank goodness she has you beside her. The tools of self-acceptance and hope that you have already given her will help her handle anything. But more than that, the example you’ve provided will inspire her for the rest of her life as she continues to use her music and other means to turn her own challenges into gifts of insight, love, and strength that others can draw on. <3
Rachel,
As always, your posts bring me tears of joy, insights, and feelings of deep compassion. Thank you.
Both my daughter (19) and I have scoliosis. I had surgery at age 16, but we have been able to avoid surgery for my daughter, through specialized physical therapy and little (nighttime) bracing while she was still growing. She still has a curve but she will not suffer the complications and chronic pain that I do, which makes me happy. I did a lot of research when hers started and was so frustrated by the lack of effort into learning the cause of such a challenging physical issue that affects so many.
Anyhoo, just wanted to reach out and let you know there are others who have been through (part of) what you’re going through. Let me know if I can help in any way.
Can’t wait to read your new book!
With love,
Heather
I cannot wait for your book. At the start of February, my 15 year old son was displaying his usual anger and frustration at the world, but for the first time I took a step back. I listened instead of lecturing. I paused instead of yelling. And there, in that safe space, he shared his frustration with living on this earth. In that moment, his father and I looked beyond the behaviour and discovered our son’s pain. In that moment, we were with him and able to help him in ways we’d never been able to before. We made the appropriate phone calls, took him to the appropriate people, but most importantly, we noticed. We noticed not what he was doing, but what he was feeling! We noticed what he needed, not what the world wanted of him! We fought for him, not with him! To be honest, I’ve never been so proud of us! Now I justify our choices and try to talk about how to walk beside my teenager, rather than how to force actions and behaviors that are ‘shoulds’. You planted the seed in me that I needed to walk beside my son. Thank you for sharing your journey with such love and honesty 🙏🏻🙏🏻
Oh Kristy! This is truly, truly momentous. To say that you may have literally saved your son’s life is not an exaggeration. So many of our kids are feeling unseen and unheard in this challenging world we live in and you did exactly what was needed to SEE HIM and HEAR HIM and RESPOND WITH LOVE. This is everything. To read this affirms my shaky heart as I write on this very topic in my book. I’m sure you knew that your story would be my fuel and so I thank you also for KNOWING, SEEING, and HEARING ME. With thanks and hope, RMS
As a musician myself, I always suggest other musicians follow what I call the “24-Hour Rule.”
After you write a song, give it 24 hours. After you record that song, give it 24 hours. If you still love it after 24 hours, keep it the way it is. If you don’t love it after those 24 hours, then keep working on it until it does pass the 24-Hour Rule.
Even though this message is directed specifically to Avery, the 24-Hour Rule equally-applies to any art form.
I hope this helps.
This is so wonderful. I can’t wait to share it with Avery… and remember it myself! Much love to you.
You are very welcome.
Keep being you, and keep doing what you do.
Thank you for the swing today. Needed someone to set with. I am so sorry to hear about Avery. But know she is in very good hand and will be well cared for. Love all your writing Sammy
Hi Rachel,
I also have a daughter called Natalie – she is our sensitive Noticer. We are really blessed to have a Montessori community preschool near us, which valued the hours she spent watching other children work and recognized observation as her way of learning. When she started school, I talked to her teacher about how she learns from watching. When her teacher started repeatedly reminding her to focus on writing and not daydream, I had to tell her that this made Natalie feel stressed and pressured. Her teacher was lovely, she stopped the pressure and instead moved her for writing time to a table with less distractions.
I can relate to you, Rachel, in that I too can be goal-focused and driven, though burn-out has taught me many lessons. I’m actually doing my teacher training this year as a career change, and loving being back at university.
For all the parents of Noticers, please join me in advocating for our children’s strengths. Let’s take that deep breath and take off the expectations that can feel like too many pressure to these sensitive children.
I am so inspired by your words, your story, and your career change! Thank you for your advocacy for the Noticers! Hugs to your precious Natalie.
Rachel – my 11 year old was diagnosed with scoliosis in September 2018. We went in for her followup in March and are a few weeks out from seeing her new spine specialist. This doctor, just a baby in my eyes, spoke directly to my daughter about all she does and wants to do and made her feel like this was something that wasn’t going to stand in her way. For my daughter this is just “one more thing” in a long list of “things” she’s struggled with since her first day on this earth. Every time something new comes up it honestly just knocks me back. I keep wondering when enough will be enough. But my daughter just keeps on keeping on. Then one day last week she came home from school and told me a boy she’s friends with told her he had to go to the doctor for x-rays and when she asked what for he said “because I have scoliosis”. In that moment she didn’t feel so alone. She told him that she has it too and just had seen her doctor the week before. I told her that she probably helped him feel less alone too. In the end I think that’s what we all need – just to know we aren’t alone. Thank you for your posts I truly enjoy them.
This is deeply touching. Thank you for sharing. I whole-heartedly agree that knowing we are not alone is the greatest source of hope when we face struggle.
I’m missed your blog posts more than I realized and I’m am so happy to hear you’re writing a new book. I can’t wait! I also wanted to let you know my youngest has scoliosis and we’ve done the sleeping brace since she was 7 (she’s 12 now), a day brace for over a year and surgery. It’s a journey and I’m happy to share any insight with you as someone who’s walked and is still walking the path. I send positive thoughts your way the night brace will do the trick.
Thank you so much. I will keep your email handy just in case. So grateful for the hope you bring with your experience.
“I really miss writing lifelines to you” – Yes, that is exactly what your writing is for me – a lifeline, an offering of grace and hope, a lesson in self-compassion and self-forgiveness. I have been opening “Only Love Today” at random several times a week and reading a post. It’s part of my self-care. Thank you for your writing. I look forward to your new book and I wish you the strength to face the challenges and changes ahead.
I am so grateful for you.
Rachel – I love your blog and your books. I’m looking forward to the next one! After reading about Avery, I wanted to share that I had corrective surgery for scoliosis right before 8th grade, 27 years ago. I had to wear a brace 23 hrs/day for a few years leading up to the surgery. I hope that she doesn’t require surgery but if she does please know that it didn’t affect my quality of life, nor should it hers. I could and can still do almost anything, including cartwheels, but no back flips. When I was younger I liked to tell people that my spine was in the shape of a question mark, I grew 2 inches in 4 hours after my surgery, and I have a really cool scar. Just wanted Avery to know she’s not alone. Sending positive thoughts….
This is incredibly hopeful! Thank you so much for taking time to share your story!!! I will pass this along to Avery. Blessings, RMS
❤️Beautiful. Sending prayers and love ❤️