{"id":7378,"date":"2017-03-07T08:30:07","date_gmt":"2017-03-07T14:30:07","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.handsfreemama.com\/?p=7378"},"modified":"2017-03-07T08:30:07","modified_gmt":"2017-03-07T14:30:07","slug":"one-childs-monumental-statement-that-will-make-us-exhale-guide-us-home","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.handsfreemama.com\/2017\/03\/07\/one-childs-monumental-statement-that-will-make-us-exhale-guide-us-home\/","title":{"rendered":"One Child\u2019s Monumental Statement that Will Make Us Exhale & Guide Us Home"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/a>
\nOnce I reached fifth grade, I was allowed to walk home from school by myself. I could have waited for my dad to finish up at work, but I chose to walk two miles so I could be home sooner. I\u2019d use my key to turn the door. The best feeling was shutting the door behind me. I\u2019d actually lean against it and let out an enormous exhale. The world couldn\u2019t touch me now. At school, I held my breath. Sucked in my stomach. Made sure I laughed only when appropriate and not too loudly. At home, I could breathe. My parents loved my sister and me \u201cas is,\u201d and it permeated the walls and floors of our home.<\/p>\n

It didn\u2019t surprise me that my mom was the first to notice my younger daughter\u2019s dimming light when she was seven. Always being one to light up the world with her smile, the change in Avery had been evident to me too \u2013 but I\u2019d come up with various reasons to account for the change, never looking at myself. After all, I\u2019d stopped telling her to hurry all the time. I\u2019d corralled my exasperated breaths and tapered the impatience in my voice. I\u2019d deemed her a \u201cNoticer<\/a>\u201d who paid attention to the most important details of life and people. Avery did things differently than me \u2013 than most \u2013 but I\u2019d stopped fighting it. Instead, I tolerated it. But could I say I accepted it? Accepted her? <\/em>No.<\/em> And it was becoming impossible to deny the look of concern on her face as she left the house wondering if she was enough for the world.<\/p>\n

I knew I had more work to do.<\/p>\n

I designated the small room in the front of the house as the music room. It would be one of the few rooms painted a colorful hue \u2013 a soft, calming blue like the summer sky. It would be a place a refuge for my songbird. She excitedly set up her guitar, music stand, and microphone. She added notebooks and pencils for music writing. Each evening, donned in her favorite ratty old t-shirt with unbrushed hair, she\u2019d go to the music room and play.<\/p>\n

Yes, she was strumming and singing, but to me, it sounded like breathing.<\/p>\n

It was her sigh of relief against the door.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat did you write?\u201d I\u2019d ask, joining her after a few minutes.<\/p>\n

She\u2019d show me songs she\u2019d written about being okay just as you are. Songs about God\u2019s comfort and unfailing love. She\u2019d sing the words to me, and I would marvel. It wasn\u2019t long before she expressed her desire to play outside the music room to elderly people because \u201cI just love old people,\u201d she\u2019d said smiling.<\/p>\n

An invitation to a music therapy session at a local nursing home was our in. As Avery played along with the instructor, one resident was particularly happy and engaged. Her name was \u201cAnnie,\u201d and she loved music above all else. Her favorite musician was Elvis. When we learned Annie hadn\u2019t had a visitor in many years, Avery suggested we \u201cadopt\u201d her. She immediately began working on learning the song, \u201cFool\u2019s Rush In.\u201d<\/p>\n

During our nursing home visits, Avery was unusually patient with Annie, pointing out birds and butterflies in the garden, asking thoughtful questions, and nodding with understanding to nonsensical responses. Sometimes when they painted, they giggled together.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

Every once in awhile we\u2019d arrive and Annie would be despondent or agitated. But never once did Avery suggest we leave or cut our visit short. She\u2019d push Annie\u2019s wheelchair outside where she loved to sit by the fountain. Avery would just sit with her and sing to her. It was as if to say, \u201cIt\u2019s okay. I know you aren\u2019t yourself today.\u201d<\/p>\n

One day, as we drove home from the retirement center, I said, \u201cYou are a delight, Avery.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI am?\u201d she looked shocked.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d I said immediately feeling sad I\u2019d never mentioned it before. \u201cYou are delight-ful<\/em>, and I love being with you.\u201d<\/p>\n

Her smile lasted for the rest of the day.<\/p>\n

On our most recent visit to the nursing home, I was startled when I saw Annie. Her deterioration was quite evident; she was only a shell of her former self. I could not see any traces of the vibrant Annie from that initial music therapy session.<\/p>\n

Annie was agitated and angry, and then she began to sob uncontrollably. That\u2019s when Avery bent down, got close to Annie\u2019s face, and began to sing softly.<\/p>\n

And when she did, I heard the unmistakable sound of an exhale.<\/p>\n

Annie had been holding her breath \u2026 but she was home now.<\/p>\n

In my mind\u2019s eye, I could see the door to my house \u2013 the one I\u2019d lean against when I got home \u2026 the one I felt safe standing behind because it was where I was loved \u201cas is.\u201d<\/p>\n

With Avery, Annie was home.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

You are not yourself, but I accept you.<\/em><\/p>\n

You are not feeling well, but I accept you.<\/em><\/p>\n

You are difficult to handle, but I accept you.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/em>Last Friday, I was invited to attend an award\u2019s ceremony at Avery\u2019s school. She was being recognized for the beautiful essay she entered in the county-wide \u201cHonoring Our Heroes<\/em>\u201d writing program. Students were asked to recognize someone who has made a personal impact on the student\u2019s life.<\/p>\n

The last line of Avery\u2019s essay read:<\/p>\n

\u201cMy mom is my hero because she accepted me for who I am, and she inspired acceptance to spread in the world through her writing.\u201d<\/strong><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

I had to sit down for that.<\/strong><\/p>\n

This child\u2019s statement was monumental \u2013 not just for me, but for anyone who wanted to know how to truly love another human being.<\/p>\n

I\u2019d nearly settled for giving Avery what she needed to get by: tolerance.<\/em><\/p>\n

But her dimming light indicated tolerance was not enough.<\/p>\n

So I gave her acceptance<\/em> \u2013 a place to breathe \u2026 to be herself \u2026 to cultivate her gifts.<\/p>\n

As a result, she was able to give acceptance to someone else \u2013 someone who just happens to be at the end of her life.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>Is there any greater way to end<\/em> a life than with acceptance?<\/strong><\/p>\n

Is there any greater way to begin<\/em> a life than with acceptance?<\/strong><\/p>\n

I don\u2019t think so.<\/em><\/p>\n

I used to think listening was the most important action parents can do to build up their children \u2026 now I think acceptance is key.<\/p>\n

To be the one who doesn\u2019t try to change them.<\/em><\/p>\n

To be the one who sees all that is good in them.<\/em><\/p>\n

To be the one who identifies their unique contributions to the world and encourages them.<\/em><\/p>\n

To be the one who delights in them and tells them so.<\/em><\/p>\n

Of all the things you can give your loved ones today, try acceptance. Be the door to home they can lean against and exhale.<\/p>\n

Who knows? Someday you might surprisingly be called a hero \u2013 not the kind you see on fancy awards shows or on the news for triumphant acts of bravery. I\u2019m talking about the hero who quietly, behind the scenes, on a day-to-day basis holds out their arms and offers refuge from the world \u2013 the one who holds out their arms because they see something worth saving.<\/strong><\/p>\n

You might have not started out that way.<\/p>\n

That\u2019s okay, me neither.<\/p>\n

But a very special little girl taught me it\u2019s never too late to do what you wish you would\u2019ve done yesterday.<\/strong><\/p>\n

And she really has this whole \u2018life\u2019 thing figured out.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

\n

Today is the day, my friends!!!\u00a0ONLY LOVE TODAY <\/a>releases into the world! Through my most honest writing yet, I reveal my own struggles to hold onto what's most important, and make what\u2019s most lasting the top priority in my everyday life. Designed for busy individuals, one short reading is enough to inspire a powerful perspective shift with lasting impact. Early readers <\/a>are experiencing profound transformation in their hearts and homes simply by reading a few pages each day. Here are just a few of the beautiful things people are saying about ONLY LOVE TODAY:<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n

    \n
  1. That\u2019s what Rachel Stafford, in her newest book\u00a0Only Love Today, has given to us:\u00a0Help.\u00a0 Drawing on her experience as a writer, a teacher, a mother, she dedicates herself to helping readers overcome distraction and perfection to live better and love more.\u00a0 Stafford uses an engaging storytelling style, but she doesn\u2019t just write her stories\u2026 she hits them close to home like a batter hits a ball out of the park.\u00a0 She paints her memories in such vivid colors that I can see them too.\u00a0 She writes encouragement so tangible that I can almost touch it. –<\/em>Laura Jane<\/a><\/em><\/em><\/em><\/em> <\/li>\n
  2. I have followed Rachel\u2019s blog for years now, and in her, I have found a cyber big sister\/neighbor\/dear friend.\u00a0 That is the magic of Rachel Macy Stafford.\u00a0 Her heart and her presence are in her words.\u00a0 The image is the reality.\u00a0 You can trust her. As I was talking about this book to my parents the other night and reading them some of the underlined, starred, and tear-stained passages, these four words summed it all up, \u201cShe has changed me.\u201d –Beth Blake<\/a><\/em><\/em><\/em><\/em><\/em><\/strong> <\/li>\n
  3. The author reminds us that the antidote for aching regret is love. Love for the people we let down, and love for our imperfect selves. That\u2019s what is so beautiful about Rachel\u2019s message, Only Love Today. \u00a0It reminds me that love, like everything else of value in my life- sobriety, parenting, faith, creativity- is a practice. \u00a0A verb. \u00a0And every day, every\u00a0moment\u00a0of every day, is an opportunity to love better. Laura Perry Parrott<\/a><\/em><\/em><\/em> <\/li>\n
  4. When Rachel writes about slowing down and stopping, about listening and curating moments for the sake of spending time with the people who matter most to us, she\u2019s writing about you and me. She\u2019s writing about our relationships, about our humanity. But she\u2019s also writing about the things going on inside our own skin, our own tendencies to not listen to ourselves, to neglect the parts of us that may be asking to be heard. –<\/em>Kaitlin Curtice<\/strong>
    \n<\/a><\/strong><\/strong>
    \n<\/a><\/strong><\/strong>ONLY LOVE TODAY is now available at     Target<\/a> stores, Amazon<\/a>, Barnes & Noble<\/a>. There are still some signed copies left here<\/a>. Friends, if I may be so bold\u00a0and tell you that release week is THE\u00a0most important week for authors. With every purchase, I get closer to the possibility of being able to continue writing stories and books that help others for years to come. I am grateful to those who support my life's work by purchasing my books<\/a>. Thank you for being part of The Hands Free Revolution<\/a>. I'd be grateful if you tell someone else about ONLY LOVE TODAY<\/a>.\u00a0<\/strong><\/em><\/li>\n<\/ol>\n

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    Once I reached fifth grade, I was allowed to walk home from school by myself. I could have waited for my dad to finish up at work, but I chose to walk two miles so I could be home sooner. I\u2019d use my key to turn the door. The best feeling was shutting the door […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":7386,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_genesis_hide_title":false,"_genesis_hide_breadcrumbs":false,"_genesis_hide_singular_image":false,"_genesis_hide_footer_widgets":false,"_genesis_custom_body_class":"","_genesis_custom_post_class":"","_genesis_layout":"","_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[1757,1761,1769,1767,1747,1760],"tags":[],"gutentor_comment":15,"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/www.handsfreemama.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/03\/DSC_0897-e1488894699898.jpg","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p1fUJF-1V0","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.handsfreemama.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7378"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.handsfreemama.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.handsfreemama.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.handsfreemama.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.handsfreemama.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=7378"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.handsfreemama.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7378\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.handsfreemama.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/7386"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.handsfreemama.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=7378"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.handsfreemama.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=7378"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.handsfreemama.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=7378"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}