When Life Keeps Happening: Stop. Listen. Learn.

11 Jul When Life Keeps Happening: Stop. Listen. Learn.

I’ve been offline for the past several weeks. I had intended to be diligently working on my latest book, building new online courses, speaking, and spending as much time as possible enjoying summer break with my kids. But life happened, again, and changed my path from “doing,” to stopping, listening, and learning.

My dear friend Minae learned she had cancer just a few months ago. She didn’t plan it that way, and her family and friends and so many who loved her certainly didn’t want it that way. But life just happened, to Minae and to all of us, and all too soon, her life, on this earth, was finished.

I didn’t want to be grieving the loss of yet another friend and “sister.” I didn’t want my children to have to grieve yet another beloved “mother.” But life has a funny way of happening no matter what we want.

 

What are we to do when life just keeps happening?

Because it will, you know. It never does completely stop. And if you think about it, why would we want it to? Even when it’s at its toughest, it’s still life; and life, I’ve once again been reminded, is an incredible gift, no matter how, or how much, it happens.

 

Watch “3-Minute Therapy: When Life Keeps Happening, Stop, Listen, Learn” and subscribe to Dr. Christina Hibbert’s YouTube channel.

 

Stop. Listen. Learn.

I’ve learned that when life keeps happening, there are some important “rules” to help us through. We must 1) Stop. 2) Listen. And 3) Learn.

1. Stop.

When life challenges arise, we must stop. Stop the busyness. Stop the distractions. Stop the hustle and hurrying. Stop ignoring, denying, or suppressing what’s happening and how we really feel.

We must stop and pay attention, because if there’s one thing I know for sure it is this: When life keeps happening, it’s trying to tell us something. There’s always a lesson to be learned, a transformation that can take place, but we will miss it, and greatly miss out, if we fail to stop.

2. Listen.

If we don’t stop and break from all that’s distracting us, at least for a time, we won’t hear what life is trying to say. We must get still. Rest. Recover. And listen.

Listen to the heartache. Listen to the grief. Listen to the fear and the worry and the stress. Feel the emotions and listen to what they say. They are teaching, always teaching, if we will but listen.

3. Learn.

What is life teaching, when it gets all messy?

Mostly, it’s teaching us how to grow, how to “overcome, become, and flourish.” It’s teaching us how to overcome the pain, use it to become our next level of best self, and to eventually flourish again.

There’s so much to learn from life’s challenges; the possibilities are endless. But unless we stop, and listen, and actively seek to learn, we will merely feel the pain and sorrow and heartache and stay stuck in it. It will be for no greater good. It will exist only as emotion within, instead of transforming into light and wisdom and growth, without.

 

And then? Transform…

Every new life challenge, every loss, grief, fear, distress, every letting go, saying goodbye, and moving on is in our life for a reason; it has the potential to transform us. It can transform us from grief to compassion, from fear to boldness, from sadness to joy. It can transform us from always “overcoming,” to becoming and even continually flourishing, if we will but allow it to…

 

My own, most recent, stopping, listening, learning transformation…

June 15th, 2018, was quite a day for my family and me. It began in Prescott, AZ where I taught a four-hour seminar on Women’s Emotional Health Across the Lifespan for a group of incredible psychologists. I summoned all my energy and positivity, spoke for three hours and ended with my song, “Light of a Little Girl.” Then, I rushed home.

 

The 15th was also my daughter’s 15th birthday–the golden birthday–and I had presents and evening events to prepare. It also happened to be my grandmother’s 102nd birthday! Yes, you read that correctly: 102! The best I could do was call as I hurried home and hope she could hear me well enough to wish her yet another happy year to come.

The 15th was also Minae’s funeral.

I arrived home in time to smile a forced smile and wish Kennedy a “Happy Birthday,” and then watch her sigh and offer an ironic, “Thanks,” as we dressed in our black dresses and prepared to head to the viewing. Kennedy and my son, Tre, sang in the opening choir number, performed by Minae’s choir students. She was an incredible teacher, and loved by so very many. Hearing, “How can I Keep From Singing” from her students brought the tears for one and all, and especially for my children to whom she had been a “bonus mom” as well as teacher and friend. I participated in a choir of her Relief Society friends, and that brought even more. We remembered her life; she was well celebrated by a huge turnout and heartfelt messages of love and the inspiring life she led.

We returned home after and helped Kennedy off to a birthday dinner with her close friend, a friend who lost her mother just four years ago, my close friend Jody, another “mother” my kids have lost, another friend and sister I have lost, as well. Then, we packed up for our summer vacation we’d be leaving for the next day, and opened presents later that night before crashing into bed.

The next morning we woke early and were on the road by 7 to head first to Minae’s burial service, three hours away, and then on to California for our vacation.

My daughters and I practiced the song I’d written for Minae, in three-part harmony, the whole way down, we met up with my son Colton who was driving another car, to practice his and my guitar playing, and stepped out into a rainy, cool summer day in Queen Creek, AZ. A rare experience to have 70 degree weather at 10 am in June; it seemed the weather was mourning Minae too.

We were asked to begin the service, and so with as much courage as I could muster, I sang Minae’s song, the song I’d written and sung to her in our last meeting in this life–the song I’d sung as she sat in her hospice bed, eyes closed, tears streaming down her face as I sang it twice for her daughters and mother and cousin. I sang her song, “Birdsong,” as Colton played beautifully and I stumbled through missed chords and notes, and then my girls joined in, and it was the best tribute we could offer Minae. “We will sing, because you sang to us. We will live because you lived. Now your rhythm beats inside of us, and we will sing and share your gift.” A short service with heartfelt, touching words from family and friends, and Minae was put to rest. We immediately left for our 6 hour drive to California.

 

I shared a clip of Minae’s song on my Facebook and Instagram streams, in case you’d like to hear a little of it.

Written for all to sing in her honor.

 

By the time we arrived, unloaded, and got to bed, we were exhausted. The following day, after church and lunch, I crashed into a three and a half hour, drooling nap.

This is just some of my personal experience of some of these things, of course. Her family’s and other friends’ experiences are their own, and in no way would I compare my loss with theirs.

Still, I felt, I feel, her loss deeply, and not only that; we’d had other “life” happening even before Minae’s death, including good things like my oldest son graduating from college, me embarking on a huge new business venture and writing my “Mastery of Motherhood” book proposal, end-of-school May-hem including dance recitals, talent shows, and my daughter’s 5th grade promotion, and even a breast cancer scare (I’m fine, thank goodness), and a fire in our back yard at midnight started by arsonists. And that was just May.

I decided then and there that I would take the two weeks we were at my mother-in-law’s house in California to completely let myself be on vacation–to stay offline, off my phone and texts and email and blog and social media, and to rest and recover and heal, to make memories with my kids and husband as I also let my exhausted body mend and let myself feel and process the grief that remained.

Now, I could just let it all go. And I did. I read novels and attended the temple and sat on the beach and watched the waves, and slept in, and did so many fun things with the kids, and it was good. And I learned. I stopped. I listened. I learned.

I figured when we returned from vacation I’d get back to work, having let myself stop and grieve, but grief doesn’t work that way and neither does life. We don’t get to decide how long we feel what we feel or how it shows up in our daily life. The week after vacation I still felt “off,” exhausted, moody, and I was having nightmares. Luckily, I once again stopped, listened, and learned.

 

Learn…and Transform

I learned first, on vacation, by listening to my heart.

I learned that I had handled this newest loss well. I had shown up for Minae and been her friend to the end. I had loved her, as I’d promised I would, through her illness, and I didn’t hide away like I was so tempted to do, to avoid the pain of loss. I couldn’t. I loved her, and I would feel the pain anyway, so I couldn’t, I wouldn’t stay away.

I learned by listening to my emotions.

I learned that I didn’t let this loss consume me, as I’ve done with losses in the past. I didn’t let grief overtake me and stop my own living just because her living was coming to an end. In fact, her life and the ebbing away of it inspired and moved me to live all the more. I let myself feel and deal with the emotions as they came, I let myself heal all along, and even more, I let myself serve and love and live to the fullest!

I learned by listening to my spirit, and to God.

I’d dreamt of Minae several times after her funeral, and had woken sad and teary, because I once again realized she was really gone. But I have also let myself feel the love I have for her, and remember her, and sing her song with my kids and share memories as they have remembered and loved her, and we’ve been able to stop, and listen, and learn, and heal together, once again.

I’ve learned by paying attention to my dreams and waking hours, noticing I dreamt three times last week of  being angry and screaming at others! I realized that I felt irritable and exhausted during the day. It took a few days and some quiet time to finally “get” what my body was telling me: I was angry, and the anger needed to be dealt with. I read several of my articles on grief and loss, which helped more than I thought it could, reminding me that this is what grief is; anger is part of the deal. I also realized I had other frustrations I’d let build up that needed to be processed and dealt with. I wrote in my journal and talked with my husband and created much needed alone time. Thus, I learned again as I made time and space to process and deal with the unwanted emotions that just kept coming up.

I’ve learned once again that when life happens, and especially when someone or something you love ends, it’s okay, it’s good, it’s essential to stop and listen and learn, to push aside the goals and wants and all you think you “need” to do, for a time, as much as you possibly can, and to let yourself simply feel, remember, rest, recover, sleep and heal. And then to wake and live.

Life has transformed me so many times. It is transforming me once more.

 

Let Life Transform You

Much as I want to be done with this round of grief and healing and learning, I know I’m not. It takes time, learning from life, and we must be patient. And yet, I also know that I still feel the enthusiasm for and beauty of life, and today I woke up smiling, spontaneously. I feel satisfied, and blessed, and full of love and yes, even joy. The anger has gone, and I feel peace.

I know that as we do these things–as we let life happen, and even better, choose to stop, listen, and learn from what happens–we will find we are transformed. It may not happen quickly, and it certainly won’t happen easily, but with time and patience and courage to do the work of stopping, learning and listening, we will one day find ourselves, our thoughts, our emotions, our lives transformed into something a little (or a lot) greater than we were before.

And that, to me, is the greatest gift, the best compensation for all the hardness of life. That, to me, is what makes life so utterly, remarkably beautiful, especially when it’s hard.

 

I would love to hear from you.

What are your “transformational” life experiences? What do you do when life just keeps happening? How, and what, have you learned through the hardest times of life?

Please leave a comment below,

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