Boundaries

Out riding the fence

Looking for weakness

Where the wire is getting stretched

I’m looking for breaks

Where intruders invade

Where new trails get slowly etched

Repairing each strand

Standing my ground

Protecting the herd from attack

Laying new wire

Stretching and tying

While also watching our back

Out riding the fence

Looking for weakness

Cow gets tangled and stuck

Approach with caution

Watching her hooves

There may be reason to duck

One section repaired

Another one waits

Along the never ending trail

Out riding the fence

Our hedge of protection

Praying boundaries don’t fail.

I’ve spent hours and hours over the years contemplating the idea of boundaries.  Healthy ones are critical to healthy relationships.  In my job as a counselor, I am constantly reminded of the problems that can develop when boundaries are neglected and  ignored.

In a blended family, I feel the urgency for boundaries more than ever.  Between parents and kids.  Step parents and step kids.  Between ex-spouses.  There are so many levels of boundaries that have to be carefully built and maintained. 

I’ve come to think of them like fence on a ranch.  The outer fences often have another row of wire the inner ones do not.  And there are carefully planned gates at various places for appropriate movement between sections as well as crossings in and out of the property. 

Boundaries in relationships are a lot like that.  The blended family fencing is a fairly complex system that takes time to learn to navigate.  Occasionally, I find myself getting cut by the wire or trampled when there has been a break.  The building and repairing is often a painful process, but the maintenance is essential to the emotional safety of everyone living on the ranch. 

Last night, both Matt and I had to work on various stretches in the wire.  It was painful and tiring work.  I’m so thankful though for a partner who is willing to ride the fence with me, sharing the miles of upkeep and rescuing me when I get tangled.

The Golden Rule of Cookies

As a counselor and long time baker, I have developed a sixth sense about people and their cookie needs.  Today I sensed that my administrative team was in need of a cookie boost.  Sometimes a random batch of homemade cookies is just the spirit lifter for which a stressful week is calling.  Fortunately, today’s disturbance in the cookie force just happened to coincide with my need to try out a new recipe. 

I came across a recipe on Facebook recently for white chocolate, candy corn cookies.  I briefly glanced at it but forgot to snap a picture as I normally would.  I’ve always felt that recipes are just nice suggestions anyway, so I decided to simply use a variation of my normal chocolate chip recipe but with white chocolate chips and candy corn instead.

About the time I had mixed up the cookies and done the super official dough taste test, I was reminded of a conversation I’d had with Matt and Isabelle Friday night.  While we were waiting for our Brother’s Pizza, I asked them a couple of questions.  What is the best thing about our family?  What is the worst thing about our family?  What do we need to work on?  (Oh the joys of living with a counselor.)

Isabelle’s idea of what we needed to work on was cooking.  She was NOT suggesting that I’m a bad cook.  She was asking, in her way, for me to include her in the cooking more.  I told her that was a great idea and that we could definitely do more cooking together.  So tonight as I was about to scoop cookie dough on to the cookie sheets, I wished she was here.  And then I wished that I could deliver a few of these cookies to her at her mom’s house when they were finished.  I just wanted to share the moment with her.

And that random thought took me back to last Halloween night.  Isabelle was scheduled to get ready for Trick or Treating at our house.  I’d brought home a goodie bag with spooky pencils, rings, erasers and activity book along with some very tasty Halloween cupcakes.

When her mom picked her up from our house, she delivered a very large and fancy, single packaged cupcake.  Isabelle saw it and her eyes nearly popped out of her head.  All thoughts of the cupcakes I’d brought home for us were gone.  She only had eyes for the cupcake her mom had brought.  For me, the evening sort of deteriorated from there.

Tonight as I was thinking about how much I would enjoy sharing these cookies with Isabelle, I think I realized more potently than ever before how acute the loss is that her mom must feel when Isabelle is with me.  How many times must her mom think of her and what she would like to share with her daughter when she is with me.

I understand logically that this must be so as I am very aware of Matt’s sense of loss and lost opportunity when Isabelle is not with us.  It is a wound that does not heal.  But before tonight, I don’t think I’ve ever really felt like I was missing out on anything.  Just him.

My heart hurt for Isabelle’s mom.  I had the tiniest taste of what she must feel every time Isabelle is with us.  Her cupcake delivery last Halloween wasn't meant as an attack on me.  It wasn't about me at all.  It was about wanting to share a moment with her daughter.

So though it was tempting to deliver some cookies to Isabelle and her mom, I didn’t.  I also understand what it feels like to have the good thing you do pushed to the shadows while someone else’s good thing takes center stage, however unintentionally.

It’s really all about the cookie golden rule.  Deliver (or not) unto others as you would have them deliver unto you.