Author in Progress

 

It has been awhile since I've visited my little corner of the world here. I have been writing though. . . 90,106 words to be exact! Mid September an idea for a story was born at the cemetery of all places, while I was visiting my mom. I dutifully wrote 1,000+ words a day/three days a week until I had a complete manuscript I've named, The Cemetery Club. While it is a story about finding hope in the unlikeliest of places, it brought me hope during a difficult time. I firmly believe I sleptwalked through year one after losing my mom and brother twenty-four days apart. Simply writing twenty-four days does something to my heart. I still find it unbelieveable that I am living life without two of the largest personalities in my family. 

Year two feels more real, more raw. There is this realization that they are not coming back and getting lost in writing a fictional story helped me through the dark days. Stepping into my characters shoes and wiritng their stories gave me hope in living my own. Once upon a time, a really long time ago, I wanted to be a writer. I was even a Communications major before all the self doubt creeped in and I chose a safer option: a teacher. It is a noble profession, but not the dream I wore since childhood. I found ways to incorporate my passion for books and writing with my students, but I buried the dream I had for myself. In a world of many voices and storytellers, I let myself believe that mine wasn't good enough.

Something happened when I lost my mom and brother. All of a sudden the reality of the fragility of life was staring me in the face. Both my mom and brother lived their lives in a way that was bold and loud. They pursued their dreams. They didn't play it safe like I did. And suddenly, I craved that for my own life. I commited to myself to write the story. I am receiving coaching from a reputable, successful author.  I will be published. My mom and brother may not be here, but their untold stories will be my inspiration. In following my own childhood dream, perhaps I'll heal the parts of me that are broken as well. 

Stories are best when shared. I am grateful for the opportunity to share mine with you.

Mourning on Mother's Day

Sitting in the quiet of a sleeping house, I woke to my first Mother's Day without you. There is no fan fare, gift given, food made, that will ever replace the ache that is in my heart without you here. As fate would have it,  I am sick again. There would be nothing that would have kept you away. You would have arrived, home made soup in hand, and just sat with me for awhile. We would have watched a movie. Remember how we were supposed to see, Book Club 2? Well, it's out now. You were so good at showing up and you always chose us. Your presence, such a comforting gift. The only one I really ever needed.

I can see now, some of the things that made you "you," are some of the qualities that I will spend the rest of my life trying to emulate. Bits and pieces of your vivaciousness, your generosity, your laughter, your light. These are the gifts I will carry tucked away in my heart, and hopefully given away to the world. I am only me because of you.

It is lonely here without you. No one seems to care, love, or know me in the same way you did. I carry this grief around like a second layer of skin. It is always with me and I desperately want to shed it. I want to only think of you with that joy that you so beautifully exuded. I want to laugh a little louder, love a little larger, and live a life that you would continue to be proud of. 

I will think of you as we celebrate with our favorite brunch foods this morning. Anjalene did everything herself, without being asked. It was her idea to celebrate in the same way we usually did. I will miss your large laugh as we toasted the morning away with mimosas in hand. Janessa, your mini me, will say and do things that will give me pause as I see so much of you in her. I will appreciate these glimpses and proudly let her be herself. She is growing so confident and secure in her own skin. She definitely gets that from you! Jonathan, will quietly miss you in his own way, his saddness tucked away in the recesses of his heart. He will keep working and doing just like you did because, "That's what Grandma would do," he'd say. He would be right. Anthony will probably work and stop by late or on another day, and you'd tell me, "He'll come back. He knows where his place to land is." You, of course, would be right...just like you were with Little. Ernie will make me laugh as he often does retelling the best stories of you. You spent so much time with us, there are plenty, and one day I will write them down so my kids will know their great grandma too.

I hate doing this life without you. I wish we had more time. We were so different, but so the same if that is even possible. There is this tiny bit of peace that you have John Michael to celebrate with you, and then my heart breaks all over again because I just can't fathom he is gone too.

"Enough tears," you would say. The kids will be up soon. They need me. Just as we were your why; they are mine. There is food to eat, stories to tell, life to live, and I am here to live it.  Happy Heavenly Mother's Day, Mom.

Love you forever; I'll miss you for always.

Easter 2023

He is risen! Stay risen!

It's in the darkest hour when your thoughts catch up with you. I've been awake since three am. I didn't even try to go back to sleep. Instead, I've been reading these snippets of a life that seems forever ago. I hope one day these blog posts serve as a reminder to my kids of the good life we have been fortunate enough to live.  Maybe it is in this season of mourning that these memories are especially comforting. They remind me,  that was before. This is now.

We just celebrated our first Easter without my mom and brother. To be honest, we have not typically celebrated Easter together since my parent's divorce five years ago so it didn't feel  that  different. I remember the first Easter after they separated and knew being together would be too hard for us, so we began to visit and stay with E's family out of state. It was the one holiday, I told my Mom we had to have with his family. She understood. This year we actually were on a camp trip to wind down multiple conflicting spring breaks. It was good for my senses to be out in nature. I love the beach. My brother loved the beach too. My mom, not so much. . .but she was a good sport about it. The sunrises and sunsets were painted masterpieces across the sky that I needed to see: God's glory in full effect during Holy Week.

We went to church later than usual. We ate dinner with my Dad and Anthony, texted with our oldest and his wife. Lene and I visited Uncle Craig because I know my Mom would have. I missed seeing all the cousins together, but I was right where I needed to be. I'm in a season that needs to figure out what I need. I am missing the people who I shared the most life with. I am giving myself permission to be where I need to be. I am giving myself permission to be who I need to be. I am asking questions that need to be asked as I'm on the rounding up to fifty spectrum. We are making plans just in case, because. . .we've experienced tragedy and then tragedy again. We can never be too prepared.

It's four am. I go to the gym at 5:30. I work at 7:45. In this quiet moment, thoughts of my past bring me comfort and joy. Grief is lonely, even when you are blessed with the most incredible friends, you feel alone in your struggles. Grief and joy, such conflicting emotions as a son readies to turn 18 and graduate. Life keeps moving forward. Ready or not. What is it I want most? Where do I want to go? How do I want to live? These are the questions my three am brain yearns to answer. This post is all over the place. . .kind of like my sleepy three am brain, I guess.

Easter 2023

Uncle Craig: Easter 2023

For Such a Time as This

Cocooning is a natural part of grieving for me. Pulling in my immediate family within the confines of my four walls, loving on them, leaning with them, all of us learning to do life in a way that is drastically different. The noise of the outside world too chaotic at times for me to partake. I know I need to preserve my energy and plan days with nothing but white around the edges. A long time ago, when all the kids were younger, balance felt so hard. Now it feels as normal as breathing. Yes, if I want to; No, if I don't. There are no apologies for this season of rest. Focusing on my mental and physical health is a necessity for such a time as this.

Putting up boundaries, no longer putting out fires, simply cherishing the every day life that we are blessed to live is my present. The truth is, when it is all said and done, your immediate family is all that you have. Luckily for me, we have poured in to each other and we are open to the shifting seasons. With an adult son grown, two in college, and one about to start, it makes sense to be available when they are, to make plans with them in it and to simply be together. Everyone's schedule is different now. We have jobs and school, but sitting around the table and story telling is important enought that we have reinstated Sunday family dinners. I will often try a recipe from the gazillion my mom collected. The keepers will go in to the family cookbook. The others, I am not afraid to throw away. Memory making one meal at a time. My mom would like this new tradition.

Adventuring has taken on a new meaning as well. We have five trips planned over the next seven months. These trips give something for us to look forward to. They are planned well in advance so the older kids can ask for time off if they want to, but they are small treasure troves of adventuring with which we will make the best new memories regardless of who is there. 

Every day at two pm, my alarm goes off. There is a quote I refer to daily, that reminds me, " That was before. This is now." A lot of days there's a battle going on in my mind for what it used to look and feel like and what it actually does. This little dose of reality calls a truce in my brain. What it was versus what it is. I am learning to accept it.

In a lot of ways, memories of my early childhood with my brother have mostly brought me joy. I mean, there was that one time he called 911 and chased me with a butter knife, but he was my first friend. And although we were opposites like water and oil, there was an unmistakeable protectiveness about him, an annoyance that he always wanted to play with me and my neighborhood friends, an admiration for his ease in talking to all those he met. He was my entire childhood. Good, bad, and everything in between, there is no one that I have that in common with. He is not here to share those stories, to make the new memories as the adults we are now with kids who are growing up. The next chapter was starting and now it's finished before it even began.

There is deep saddness when one realizes that I am the keeper of our childhood stories. There is no longer my person to banter back and forth with ease in the story telling. There is no one who knows the highest of highs and the lowest of lows that were experienced in our childhood home together. My brothers take on the entirety of our growing up years is just gone. That alone makes me want to write our Durango Dukes adventures to share with a new generation. Perhaps my next chapter will include that. Not sure. I'm simply journaling through this experience of loss. Healing my heart, one post at a time.

Dear Mom

 Dear Mom,

You're my mom and I love you so much. True. You're my mom and I know you loved me so much. True. But it's the every day "you" stuff that I miss so dang badly. The way when you called or I called you, your opening liner was generally the same, "What do you know?" It always had a sing-songy cadence to it. I wish I appreciated the way you gave a play by play of your day to me. God, you always accomplished so much! Sometimes it was annoying to hear who you helped or how you helped because honestly, it made me reflect on myself and whether I was using my God given gifts to serve like you were. A lot of days I needed your help carting four kids around or cheering from the sidelines. Anything I needed to do, you were always willing. Urgent care? You would take me. Target? You'd go for me. A museum iwth the kids? Why not? You were always ready for anything!

If myself or the kids needed anything at all, most times you had it. If you didn't have it, you went out and found it. You loved a good challenge! How many whirly-pop things did you actually find for people at the thrift stores? You were so damn generous! You were such a thoughtful, quality human being that it physically hurts that you are not still here. We never recorded your answers to that book you went through with Grandma and Grandpa and transcribed. I know the ins and outs of their lives, but never took enough time to lean in, listen, and learn about yours. That hurts my heart. I don't know how to parent adult children yet. I still need you, yet you're gone. In an instant, you were gone from this life and living in eternal life. 

To add to the pain, John Michael isn't here to make inappropriate jokes and make me laugh through my tears or recall memories of our childhood together. Everything in my world got so much harder October.  1st and even harder on October 25th. To be honest, I can't even ask God, why? Because all I hear in my head from Maria's podcast is your voice saying, "Why not me?" I know better than to question God's plan. I do. I know for certain, one day we will be together again. I do. But today? Today I miss seeing your white Prius pull up at the curb, calling me to run out for some random drop off you were bringing me. Today without you, sick at home, I miss your homemade soups. I don't think you ever made a single one that I didn't like and I haven't found a single recipe for one. 

Today and every day since you've been gone, I miss you. 

Love you forever; Miss you for always.

I Remember When. . .(a List)

My brother John Michael and I did a newscast from our road trip. 

My dad recorded us with that huge camera and bag he had to carry around.

My Nana died and my parents left for Vegas. I remember sitting in their bed that night watching Beverly Hills 90210 with both my brothers.

My mom threw me an awesome sleepover complete with a scavenger hunt, and I was a major moody jerk to her.

One of our camptrips ended in a major rainstorm.

My Uncle Barney put me on his shoulders to pick fruit from his back yard.

My youngest brother was born. My Grandma stood in the corner crying and praying.

My Mom stayed with me during labor with our first. She sent everyone off to dinner so I could have some peace.

I remember when I pushed for a Cinco de Mayo celebration at my parent's house. My Mom did everything: decorated, cooked all the food, and I ended up sick in their bathroom and had to go home with the flu.

My Mom would come in to my school as a child, and then my classroom as an adult to give her yearly dental talks.

My dad would pick me up from school in the big, white, florist van.

A car crashed into our backyard.

I had my bachelorette party and my brother's girlfriend wasn't twenty-one yet. We went to the coolest Italian place with a pianist and the sweetest people!

My mom and I went parasailing in Hawaii.

My brother would play Barbies with me and the neighbor girls.

A Lesson I learned the Hard Way

A lesson I've learned the hard way is that you may not have the time you think you do with the people you love. I watched it happen in other families, someone died suddenly, but I never really understood the gravity of that statement until it touched me directly in such a devastating way. To have this type of loss so close together has been life changing. Losing my mom and brother so quickly left absolutely no time for the type of good byes or acceptance I had, I guess, imagined. To lose a mom and brother twenty-four days apart in such tragic ways has changed how I look at life. It has caused regrets. My mom always talked of having none...but I wonder how that is, because gosh I sure have them!

I am learning to say yes more often.  

I am learning to make the effort, do the thing, love the people.

I am learning to ask the questions, have the conversations, make the peace.

I am learning that there really are no do overs.

I am learning that all that petty stuff never mattered.

I am learning that God's plans make no sense to me, but He is going to make them regardless.

I am learning to let people be who they are and love them regardless.

I am learning that self preservation is okay and protecting my peace is crucial.

I am learning to do better.

I am learning to be better.

Celebrating Warrior Women

 One weekend in June, Mom was invited to celebrate her life and the warrior she is for battling cancer. The hostess, Emily rented out these villas and it was a wonderful weekend of pool time, drinks, and relaxation. Mom invited Suzann and I to join. It was a very generous offer and a meaningful experience to share with my mom.

 These are the warrior women we met and celebrated.

 To life and living it fully present!

 Me, Mom, Suzann

Mom, Emily, Me, Suzann

Mom's Birthday

What started out as an innocent tea party request from Nessa for Grandma's birthday, turned into the sweetest, pleasant birthday surprise!

As is no surprise, women turned up for this celebration.  My mom is many things to many people, and her affect on their lives was pretty evident as they carved time out of their Sunday to celebrate her.  She was quite overcome with emotion, which was neat to see.  I think we really surprised her and it was nice to do for her and watch her sit back, relax, and enjoy her time with family and friends.  Happiest of birthdays, Mom.  We love you so much and had such a good time celebrating you!!

Around Here

Time stops for no one--not even a mom who is savoring days and instead of chasing littles, carpooling bigger littles across town daily.  Even with each child in only one activity, the demands for our time are endless.  That fact alone makes me cherish each night's dinner around the table and read alouds before bed.  They are still here.  Still ours.  Still their safe place to land and launch.  That thought makes me happy.

Our days haven't been particularly hectic, so that is not an excuse to have been absent from this place, but there is really no reason except maybe I'm listening more, speaking less (in real life and blog life).  Quiet equates contentment for me. And being still means I'm savoring God's voice and His call to action or obedience.

Moving on, some of the most recent happenings around here. . .

Mom celebrated another birthday! I believe it was about 11 years ago, I seriously wondered how many more birthdays she would have to celebrate.  Praise God for His healing hands and for more time with her. My mom is the only grandma my kids really know and she's the best mom for me!

 Oh, I just adore my girls.  Any time we can snuggle and all parties are willing, I take it.  I am in awe of who they are growing up to be.  In awe!

 This guy got asked to be this little girl's Godfather.  He is quite smitten with her, as we all are really.  He is the best example of a man I know, so the choice is a good one.  A really good one.

 My little looks so big next to her baby cousin.  13 is creeping up on us and I'm preparing my heart for the teenage years.

 We were missing Little and Kendra--but happy to celebrate Easter at mom and dad's with the family.

We had an adult beverage hunt this year and I think I may have more pictures of that than the kids hunting eggs.  That's okay though! More memories to follow--when I don't have to take a hot lunch across the street to my Bubs--who will be at middle school next year.  I will not complain--I'll embrace I can, while I still have the chance.

Savor the Silence

This is the third Thursday in a row that I have had a whole two hours to myself before my students arrive. Grandpa has laid claim to Janessa.  She calls this their lazy day and she is ever more conscious of the days of the week now.  I hope it is a date that will be withstanding, as this could very well be their last opportunity to pour into her without the schedules and demands of a regular school day.  Following a day of illness, the options that loom before me are varied.  The band upon my wrist taunts me to get outside and walk--to make up for the steps missed while in bed yesterday.  My book for book club beckons me--two chapters to go.  Two chapters echoing THIS is my best yes.  A house could be cleaned, laundry completed, lessons to plan for what is probably my last semester of homeschooling for my little one; yet, I sit.

I have blessed my husband as he left for work, prayed for a friend interviewing about a Masters program.  I have read about loaves and fishes, and Peter walking on water.  I have worked out, washed breakfast dishes, blessed kids as they walked off to school.  We've kept a meeting with our ES and reflected on our month of learning, I've taken a forgotten lunch and book to school, I've chatted for a few minutes with two girl friends, texted encouragement to a couple of others and it isn't even 11 am.

And now, as my music plays softly in the background, a smile plays on my lips as my eyes gaze lovingly out a window with a view of tall trees and mountains looming in the distance...I'm just thankful for this one moment.  This opportunity to live this life.  All the petty problems and annoyances with people or situations, in the scheme of it all mean nothing. With only an hour remaining before my writing class begins--I will sit and savor the silence.  I will relish in the revelations of my thoughts.  I will contemplate my days and God's use of my gifts. I will look forward to the future, while at the very same time enjoy the gift of now.

There is wonderful joy ahead--1 Peter 1:6

My Mother's Day

 My mom is always mothering in some way.  She's so quick to do for others and I'm in a season where I'm needing to stretch myself and learn to be even more like her in these regards.  I guess we are always learning from mom, no matter how old we are.

Right now I'm doing some extra mothering that I hadn't counted on.  God just gave me a job to do and I plan to do my best of it for the time He intends me to do it for.

And in the meantime I'm so thankful for this calling on my life: mothering.  There were some days early on after suffering through a miscarriage that I wondered if I would ever get to be a mom.  Now I find it difficult to remember a time I wasn't.

God's plan for my life is perfect.  These gifts He has given me irreplaceable.

Mother's Day Weekend

Sometimes less really is more.  I love the weekends that the calendar box sits empty.  Empty equals opportunity.  It just does.  That is what this weekend felt like which really was a Mother's Day gift in deed!  I wanted to take mom to a local wine shop for a Mother's Day Event.  I had no idea we would be the only ones in there for the entire three hours.  It was so nice and relaxing!  At one point Alan joined us and then dad, followed by Steve and Karvel who happened to be walking to the place next door.  We couldn't have planned it any better. . .well, maybe if we had Ernie could have been there too, but he was a good sport telling me to take my time and enjoy it.  I definitely took him up on that one!

Sunday began with church and an impromptu breakfast my littlest brother picked up.  Again, totally last minute but absolutely perfect!  Mom and I caught up on season three Downton and rested while the guys hung shutters or something of the sort.  Dinner meant mom's house where Ernie barbecued for us.  It was probably one of our simpler meals there since mom is the queen of party planning, yet she wanted a break. . .but it was a beautiful reminder that yes, sometimes less is more.  Absolutely.

 Life is swirling with end of the year activity in these parts.  Lene's production is one week away, Open Houses, friends facing marriage issues, and friends facing cancer.  Hard stuff, but brutiful stuff nonetheless.  I'm growing and stretching and reaching as I look for ways to be His hands and feet.  To walk this road with the hurting and sick when my life is seemingly "good" is hard sometimes.  But then I remember the dark days that came before and I thank God for the light.  I thank Him for the life of my mom who is still here to celebrate Mother's Day with me eight years later. I still need her.  I'm not done learning.  A Mother's Day gift in deed.

And then there is all the other "stuff" we've been up to in the almost two weeks since I last logged on.  I abhor that word--I never would let my eighth graders use it in their writing and here I am using it--for lack of a better word.  Eek!  I've been horrible about pulling out my "big girl camera" lately--the iphone has become my constant companion to capture life and all the joy that comes from it.  I am pondering retirement, I think there are only seventeen working days left for my dad. Years ago, I would have been interviewing for his spot and walking into the counselor realm of education.  Now I wonder if I will ever cross that bridge because I've tasted life on the other side--long, tiring days with my kids. . .but filled with unexpected moments of pure, unadulterated joy.  Being a mom completes me.  But what of my dad's last working days?   What will that opportunity afford him?  Should I wait for that moment to do some of the things I'd love to do. . .because what if that moment never comes.  I'm about as semi-retired as it gets.  If I had to walk away to be able to mother my kids I would.  My planet has tilted on its axis as I've let go and let God.  He has literally opened doors and provided this opportunity where I was able to see what motherhood means for me.

Key words, "for me."  My mothering experience may not look like my neighbor's or friends or family members.  Their vision for their family may be very different than mine.  I am perfectly content "just being a mom," because I know that NO OTHER JOB EXISTS FOR ME.

Motherhood.  Mother's day. Being a mom.  My ultimate and best versions of myself are because God gifted me these children.  Every day is an adventure.  Every day is filled with a struggle or two or ten.  But every day is extraordinary!  God bless mamas everywhere!

May 16, 2012

Last weekend, I had the opportunity to catch up with a couple girlfriends as we attended a 40th birthday party. We all chatted aimlessly, which turned to breathlessly confessing our failings at mothering that week.  As we shared our struggle,  our frustration, and our embarrassment over certain mothering moments, I was moved by the compassion and empathy that poured out among the group. As we each boldly proclaimed our failings out loud, there was such a release. That mask of, "it's hard but I've got this," was lifted and we all relaxed into the familiar companion of friendship.  We commiserated, laughed, and encouraged each other.  It didn't matter if we worked full time, or part time, or not at all. We all spoke the same mothering language...and more days than not--it's hard no matter what your situation.

I was struck by something one of the girls said as she talked about her three year plan to go from working full time to part time.  When she was asked what she would do, she said maybe be an instructional aide or the lunch lady--but whatever she did, she would be the best!  And I could see that.  She would be the best and do her best with whatever job she chooses to do.  That is her personality.  She has a strong work ethic. . .much like all the women I am honored to call friends.

This simple reflection, following the conversation about our mishaps with motherhood made me think:   Am I always doing the best job I can with my kids? Do outward appearances sometimes matter more to me than how I've made them feel in the process?  When I'm in the classroom I give it my best, why should my home life be any different?  It shouldn't.