After the video of UCLA gymnast Katelyn Ohashi’s “perfect 10” floor routine went viral, NPR interviewed her head coach, Valerie Kondos Field about her character and skill.

Katelyn had almost given up on the sport. “The elite level came at a price. Not just the injuries, but the body-shaming and the cut-throat competition that left her questioning her self-worth” (NPR’s Morning Edition).

Coach Val became a catalyst for change in Katelyn, who had stopped loving the sport at age 11. How? At the 1:40 mark in the two-minute interview, Coach Val utters the sentence that says it all:

“I cared about her more as a human being than as an athlete.”

And that was everything.

Caring more about a person’s humanity than about the role they play, regardless of the context, is the essence of respect for human dignity.

Want to know how to live your faith in the secular workplace? Care about people more as human beings than as coworkers and employees.

How does every single faculty and staff member live out the Catholic Identity of the school? Care about people more as human beings than as students and colleagues.

It really is that easy.

Care for a person’s well-being more than the function they provide.

Stop using people as objects. Stop objectifying the body for the sake of athletic or advertising success. Stop shaming. Stop the competition that leaves people questioning their self-worth.

We don’t have to choose between people and profit, between personal well-being and excellence, between compassion and success.

In fact, look at the results: not only does Katelyn’s routine earn a “perfect 10,” not only has the video of her performance gone viral, but in the words of Coach Val, “She just exudes goodness and love and joy.”

Be a catalyst: care about a person more as a human being than anything they can do.

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My kids, ages 8 and 9 1/2, were registered to do their third Kids-Triathlon.

First Tri in 2014

Second Tri in 2015

And then three weeks before the race this year, my youngest, Max, broke his arm (for the second time in 8 months–this time while playing the-floor-is-lava).

He was disappointed that he couldn’t do the tri, but understood.  There were tears, but Max has a positive, fun, jovial disposition.  While others might sulk, he had a moment of sad, then moved on to joking and cheering… until the night before the race, when he started to cry.  Overcome with disappointment, he cried, “I weally wanted to do this twiathlon…”

I had a choice: I could tell him to simply chin-up and deal with the consequences of his broken arm, I could join him in his devastation and call off his brother’s tri, or I could meet him with compassion and find a way to help him work through it.

And we eagerly waited his return…

After a while I knew something was wrong; it was taking too long.

Finally Max spotted him off in the distance.

Crying, he ran his bike through the end of the course, into transition.

So I took him by the hand and walked him over to his coach.  A multiple Ironman, multiple ultra-marathon (100 mile) finisher, who coached kids at the YMCA for free, just to share his love of the sport.  A grandfather, who loves kids as much as he loves the sport… who is one of the best examples of coaching that this professional educator has ever witnessed in her life.

And this Ironman Coach Grandpa explains to Alex that his determination to finish–that he didn’t just give up–was one of the most inspirational things he had ever seen.

Still, Alex couldn’t understand.  Still, Alex couldn’t comprehend.  So Coach Grandpa asked if he could take a picture and post his story on Facebook.  Because he was certain that there were other Triathletes that would find inspiration from this 9 year old.

We packed up and headed home.  And I insisted that Alex read the comments on Coach Grandpa and my own Facebook posts.  For some reason, when he started to read the comments of strangers who were moved by the fact that he still finished the race, things started to shift for him.  “Wow.”

Why is it that we doubt the words of those who love us, but accept the words of those we don’t know?

Regardless, those words were heard.  The affirmations of strangers were heard.  The encouragement of his Coach was heard.  And Alex started to look at his Triathlon in a new light.

Where he once saw failure, he started to see determination.

Where he once saw frustration, he started to see success.

And I finally let myself cry, but not for hurt, or pain, or disappointment.  Rather for pride.

What may have been my son’s worst experience ever may have been the proudest Mom-moment of my life.

Because he finished.

Not because he won, but because he didn’t give up.  He finished.

My son faced adversity, felt the full brunt of it, and said to himself, “I could quit, but it’s only another 1/2 mile.  I can make it.”

And he did.  He finished.

There are so many lessons I take from this experience.

• From Max who at 8 years old allowed himself to feel intense disappointment, yet didn’t let it consume him… rather, he chose to cheer on his friends.
• From Alex, my tenacious 9 1/2 year old, who didn’t give up.
• From perfect strangers who not only found inspiration from Alex’s story, but who took the time to applaud his tenacity.
• From a man who volunteers his time, talent, and treasure to help kids find success with and develop a love of his sport.
• From my husband who sees the moments of real, in-the-trenches-mothering, applauds them, and captures them on film.

When Jesus said to love one another as I have loved you… this is what he meant.  Yes, my kid did a great job at overcoming adversity, but he wouldn’t have been able to do it without you and me. When Jesus said “whatever you do to the least of my brothers and sisters, you do to me,” this is part of that.

As a Mom, when I love my kid in his time of need, I’m being Christ to him.  As a community, when you reach out to someone with encouragement and love, you’re being Christ to him.  You are loving one another as Christ loved us.

This is it.  Right here, right now.  And we did it.  He finished.  And he’s proud because of you.  So thank you.

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Two Moms go to a playground with their kids, ages 2 – 4.  One child asks his mom to help him use the fire pole, so she holds him the whole way down.  The second child asks the second mom for help.  She says, “I’d be happy to teach you how to do it, but I’m not going to do it for you.  Do you want to learn?”  Second-Child hesitates before agreeing.  Second-Mom explains how to reach out, hold the pole nice and high, then step out while holding on, wrap feet and legs around the pole, and gently loosen the hold to slide down.  She guides her son’s grip, holds her hands out to catch him in case he needs it, but tries not to actually do the work for him.  By the third try, he’s doing it with enough confidence that she can sit back and watch.

“I DID IT!”

Have you seen the posts about “Free Range Kids” popping up around the internet lately? Most recently, the Washington Post highlighted an incident involving Maryland parents letting their kids go out and play without supervision, someone saw the unsupervised kids, called the police, and CPS got involved.  Much of the commentary that I’ve read centers around anecdotal evidence: my own childhood involved unsupervised play… and this is what I do with my kids and it works… And then there are the parents who ask “What’s wrong with a little parental supervision?”  The nature of the discussions can lead you to believe it’s all about choosing-your-own parenting philosophy.

The thing is that as a Catholic, as a Christian, as an educator, and as a parent, I feel like we’re missing the opportunity to talk about something deeper here.  There’s a principle of social justice that applies to this discussion.  A principle that extends from the Seven Major Themes of Catholic Social Teaching: subsidiarity.

When we talk about subsidiarity, we tend to focus on government–on the smaller, local level and the larger, national level.

Essentially, subsidiarity is about responsibly allowing people to do for themselves what they can, intentionally limiting intervention yet assisting when needed, and doing so with the common good in mind. It’s about empowering people, and it respects human dignity.

Subsidiarity is the balance that reasonable people are calling for when faced with the negative extremes of too little involvement (neglect) and too much involvement (hovering, helicopter parenting, or micro-managing).  Our notion supervision needs to be infused with principle of subsidiarity.

With subsidiarity, we teach our children to participate in the world around them.  We guide them on how to make decisions.  We use our judgment as we incrementally increase their sense of freedom and responsibility.  And in doing so, we guide them into responsible adulthood.

So “free-range kids”? I regret the necessity of the phrase “free-range kids.” They’re children, not chickens.  But I understand the point author and blogger Lenore Skenazy is trying to make.  She offers the label as a commonsense approach to parenting that rejects the negative extremes of neglect and helicopter parenting.  In her book and through her blog, Skenazy’s intent is to help parents raise safe, self-reliant children–an intent which is keeping with the principle of subsidiarity.

I really appreciated Catholic blogger Simcha Fisher’s post about “Raising Safe, Independent Kids” on the National Catholic Register.  She highlighted sympathy for parents who have been criticized for encouraging unsupervised play, while also offering a clarification on the realities of CPS, and concluded by offering solid, reasonable advice for parents.

Subsidiarity is not about compromising safety.  But it is about releasing fear.  We shouldn’t make decisions–about parenting or otherwise–based on fear.

Fear leads us to hovering, micro-managing, and helicopter parenting–practices that give us the illusion of control.  Fear prevents us from living and loving freely, and it robs our children of their sense of freedom and responsibility.

What is it that Scripture says about fear?  Oh yeah.

Be not afraid, I am with you.  (Isaiah 41:10)

“Playground © Depositphotos.com/elenathewise”

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The other day at dinner, I tell my boys that I am looking forward to teaching a class that evening on Morality–a favorite topic, which I hadn’t taught in a while.  My 6 year old asks:

I pause, since I usually begin by acknowledging that most of us presume morality is about following a set of rules, and it’s not… it’s about relationship. But in that moment I was challenged to accurately and succinctly describe it in a way that my 6 and 7 1/2 year old would understand.

Relationship

The reason Why something is right or wrong has everything to do with relationship.

• Think about three of your closest friends.  What are some of the “unspoken rules” that close friends follow to maintain a healthy relationship?  List these relationship-guiding rules out: trust, honesty, care and concern for one another’s well-being… what else would you add?

How: So how do we strengthen our relationship with God?  By loving, honoring, and respecting God and all of God’s Creation.

The number one overarching principle that guides our approach to being in right relationship is a respect for the value, worth, and special dignity within each person as a child of God, created in the image and likeness of God.  Catholic Social Teaching refers to this as respect for human dignity, which finds its Scriptural roots in Genesis.

1. Interpersonal– respecting the human dignity of others, which is demonstrated by how we treat one another.
2. Personal – respecting one’s own human dignity, which is demonstrated by how we develop our internal quality of character
3. Transcendent – respecting God, which is demonstrated by practicing the virtue of faith.

The Commandments, Beatitudes, and Virtues help flesh out the What of Catholic moral teaching with more specifics, but if we don’t begin with that understanding of being in right relationship with oneself, others, and the God who created us and loves us, then our approach to morality will be limited to simply “following the rules.”

In the next post, I’ll discuss the role of conscience and moral responsibility.  For now, consider how you think about morality:

• What attitudes or assumptions do you bring to a discussion of morality?  Are they helpful or limiting?
• Think about your relationship with yourself, with others, and with God.  In what ways do you see love and respect for human dignity guiding your behavior in those relationships?  Where do you succeed in practicing this “respect”?  Where do you struggle?  Is there one area that you feel called to work on improving?

“Social media network © Depositphotos.com/Maridav”

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I am amazed at the things I will do for my kids.

And I’m not talking about the maternal-instinct so-they-will-survive stuff (like sleep deprivation and all those things I blocked out of selective memory).

I’m talking about Daring to Try.

For my son’s 5th birthday, we had a dance party for 17 kids ages 3-8.  Two months prior to Max’s birthday, we attended a cousin’s wedding, which is where we introduced my kids to the dance floor.

This would probably be a good time to mention that I really can’t dance.  I try.  I have fun.  But to be honest, I’m not very good at it.  I’m a big ball of uncoordinated, awkward self-consciousness.

But what I’ve come to understand about my kids is:  They. Don’t. Care.  They just want me.  Having fun.  With them.

I see the way my kids look at me with awe and love.  It’s like they take my own awe and love of them, multiply it and thrust it back upon me.

My kids see me with God’s eyes.  With God’s love.  And with all my humanness, imperfections, and limitations, they still see awesomeness.

I have two choices here:

1. I can correct them: tell them why I’m not-quite-good-enough and effectively model self-doubt
2. Or I can make an effort.  I can try.  I can model humility and try, and try, and try again…

It’s not all that easy to try…  In her book, Daring Greatly, Brené Brown explains how putting yourself out there requires quite a bit of vulnerability and courage.  It doesn’t come naturally.  It’s a choice.  A choice I want my kids to make.  So I force myself to model it.

So for Max’s 5th birthday, I gathered 2 hours of kid-friendly dance music, including lots of line dancing stuff apropos for weddings, and burned the playlist to a 2-cd set as the party favor.  Then we cleared the furniture out of the living room, set up some dance lights, and effectively turned the living room into a dance floor.

That was the easy stuff.   At a certain point, it became necessary to actually lead the line dances.  In case I wasn’t clear on this, let me lay it out: I would rather have crawled under a rock and died than get up in front of people and lead the Electric Slide.

Except that’s not true.  Not when I look into the eyes of my kids and see their joyful desire.

So I threw caution to the wind and I Dared to Try. And the kids Loved. It.  Everyone had a blast.  Including me.

There’s a post I found through Pinterest called “Waking Up Full of Awesome.”  The author, Melissa, posts an appropriately absolutely awesome picture of her 5 year old and reflects on the phenomenon of how we once – when we were 5 – “woke up  full of awesome.”  And at some point most of us lose that.

I don’t want that for my boys.  And I don’t want that for me.  And neither does God.

Because that–with all that awesomeness–is how God sees me.  So that’s where I’d like to be.  For now, my next step is focusing on Daring to Try.

Dance! by Scott Robinson licensed under CC BY 2.0

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If there was one thing you could (magically, effortlessly) change about yourself, what would it be?

Play along: come up with one thing.  Perhaps it’s…

• developing virtuous habits (and eliminating unhealthy ones)
• addressing some physical characteristic (in the realm of body image or ability)
• acquiring a desired talent

Sit with your answer.  What does it tell you about yourself?

• Is it just for fun?
• Does it have to do with something you struggle with?
• How does it relate to your personal goals?  Hopes?  Dreams?

• What does it tell you about where you are on the spectrum between self-love and self-loathing?

You are a child of God, created in God’s image and likeness.

• When it comes to the things about yourself that you want to change, do you honor the image of God within?  Do you treat yourself with the love and respect that the image of God deserves?  

Healthy self-love appreciates the goodness that is.  It is from a place of love, not hate, that we are called to conversion – or metanoia.

In the reflection “Just Paint Over It,” I referenced the Greek word metanoia while discussing the transforming process of forgiveness.  Metanoia [pronounced meta-noy-ah] translates as “a change of heart.” Meaning a conversion where the person turns away from what is destructive, hurtful, hateful, and instead turns towards God.

Too often, however, we can be overly critical of ourselves in a way which is neither helpful nor loving.  There is a fine line between goals that motivate and the expectation of nothing less than perfection that can shut a person down.

The need for perfection.

There are two times that the word “perfect” appears in the gospels, both in the Gospel According to Matthew.  The first is in Matthew 5:48, which is the part of the Sermon on the Mount in which Jesus discusses Love of Enemies.

The Mount of Beatitudes and The Sea of Galilee

The second appears in Matthew 19:21 within the story of The Rich Young Man.

If you wish to be perfect…

In reality, there is always room for improvement.   If we think we are all done with the personal/spiritual growth thing (as if to say: “I have arrived”), we are reminded that our work is never complete.It is then, that Jesus will say to us:

If you wish to be perfect…

It’s the all-or-nothing extremes that are useless.  Unhelpful.  Paralyzing.  In no way does Jesus insinuate that this rigid interpretation of perfection is what we are to aim for.

Growth—change—is a process.  Metanoia is a “turning” away from something (sinful) and towards God (who is wholeness, life, and truth).

Think about the self-improvement / growth things that you are working on in your life.  Do you treat yourself with love in the process of turning?  Or do you become overly critical and hateful about perceived failures?  Because that “hateful” thing is not what Jesus would do.

To move beyond my own struggle with perfectionism, I found it helpful to redefine “perfect” as functioning at my best, right now.  For me that implies being my best and doing my best in the present moment, while looking to take the next step to become better.

The “next step” is an important concept in overcoming paralyzing perfectionism, because it recognizes the space between the “reality of now” and the “ideal” or “goal.”  And in order for it to function, the “next step” should be realistic.  Small.  Doable.

And then celebrate the success.  And build upon it.  Because that is perfect.

You are not now what you were… You are not now what you will be when God has perfected you.                  – St. Vincent de Paul

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My Dad’s work with Dell has offered my parents the opportunity to live abroad for two brief stints.  Their first experience as expatriates landed them in Xiamen, China for 3 ½ years.  Presently, they are in the final weeks of a summer in Limerick, Ireland.

If you ask my Mom about their travels, you are likely to hear some of her adventures filled with self-depricating humor.  (Anyone who has ever met my Mom has undoubtedly heard her “My Trip to the Chinese Spa” story, which she recently submitted to Ellen.)  Mom will often humbly speak with awe and wonder at how she—a kid from Upper Darby—has had this amazing opportunity to travel.

What really gives you insight into her daily experiences, however, is her photographs.  It’s not the pictures of the sights that strike me.  It’s the pictures she takes of people.  Strangers.  Ordinary people doing ordinary things in their own cultural context.  My Mom might tell you that she’s inspired by the National Geographic images, or that she’s just capturing part of the experience of the country.  But I’m certain it’s about something more.

About a year into my parents’stay in China, Mom had mastered many of the challenges expats face, but still struggled with just getting things done some days.  She explained that she had a ton of errands to take care of…or rather it wasn’t actually that many…it was just that every errand literally took 12 times longer than it needed to because everyone wanted to talk with her.  Picking up tickets from Apple, the travel agent took an hour.  Shopping for jewelry meant another hour or two with Lenna, “the Pearl Lady.”  And of course on her way to Lenna’s she had to stop by to see Yogi—whether she needed anything from his shop of handpainted knicknacks or not.

And it wasn’t just shopkeepers. The tiny young woman who Mom frequented for facials and massages—Sha-Sha—wanted to talk with her throughout the entire session. Same went for Mrs. Lee, her acupuncturist.  Talking is a huge no-no in Mom’s book of relaxation, which I completely understand.

Mom couldn’t understand why all of the Chinese people she interacted with wanted to befriend her and talk.  Maybe they want to work on their English, she surmised.  Maybe they have just never seen a “big mamoo” like me.

Actually, no, Mom.

People are drawn to you because you see past their function and engage them as a human person.  You greet the cashier at the airport parking booth with the same genuine care and concern that one would use for friends and family.  People are drawn to you because of how you are with them.

The first time I began using the Catholic vocabulary word human dignity—the specialness, value, and worth each person has simply because we were created in the image and likeness of God—was when I started teaching a Peace and Justice class in the late 90’s.  It may have been a new phrase to me, but it was by no means a foreign concept.

Respect for human dignity is one of the Seven Themes of Catholic Social Teaching.  It is a foundational principle of who we are and how we practice our faith; respecting human dignity leads us to both moral behavior and acting with justice (which is precisely why I use it as a central concept when teaching).

Jewish theologian Martin Buber (d. 1965) contributes great insight to the ways in which we do (or do not) respect human dignity in his classic philosophical work I and Thou.  Buber identifies and describes the two fundamental ways we relate to our fellow human beings:

I—You exemplifies genuine care and concern for people as human beings.  There is a real, personal presence in I-You encounters.

When we interact with other people, we either I—It them or we I—You them.

We immediately know it when we are on the receiving end of an I—It encounter.  For me, the epitome of this is represented by the retail sales clerk who puts out her hand to receive payment and the customer absent-mindedly tosses money in her general direction.

The quality connection which occurs in the I—You encounter brings life and love to the participants.  True human presence in an I—You exchange could be as simple as a non-verbal, eye-contact and head nod.  Or it could be the conversation true friends share over a glass of wine.  One thing is for sure, in that true human presence, we encounter the Divine: “in every You we address the eternal You” (Martin Buber, I and Thou.  Translated by Walter Kaufman. New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1970, 57 emphasis added).

I am so very fortunate to have had such an amazing example of respect for human dignity, and such a wonderful experience of I—You encounters with my Mom.  Wishing her a Happy Birthday in Ireland.  Cheers!

“Travel to china © Depositphotos.com/fiftycents”

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