Earlier this summer, I went for the weekend to a friend's for the weekend. She was having a party, and it was pretty neat to meet so many of her similarly "uncool" friends. There was a whole lot of laughter, good food (especially peanut butter cookies!), good wine, and even party favors for some of us. I felt very at home with my friend's friends, and along with all the other good stuff, and a few stray raindrops, there was great conversation. After all these weeks, there are still a couple of comments and questions that have stuck with me.
Two people, at separate times, when talking about family life, expressed surprise at how long I've been married. In fact, I actually was asked by one man, "You've been married since 1991? To the same person? For real?" I smiled and thanked him. I didn't even bother mentioning that it was early in 1991. It occurs to me that perhaps it's interesting to note that this comment and the other ("You've really been married for over 20 years?") were presented by men. I have no idea what that might mean, but I do know that for most of my life, I've been far more comfortable and relaxed talking with men or boys.
The other question that has stuck with me, making me think more than almost anything else this summer, was asked by another dear friend of mine who was there. She asked how we managed to get our teenage boys, four of them, to go to church with us regularly. The simple answer is that we just take them; we wake them in the morning, make sure they get dressed, and load them in the car. Afterwards, we pick up doughnuts or muffins, if we go in the morning, and sometimes go out for pizza, if we go on Saturday night. The simple answer regarding being married, to the same guy, for over half my life, is similar: there's not really been a choice in the matter.
Reality, however, is not always so easy. There have been plenty of mornings that we've all wondered what the point is in getting so frustrated herding the six of us out the door to pray and find peace. And a good many times when I have not really felt like I was going to get any message out of Mass because of being stressed. And despite the fact that I do make a choice each day, at some point, that I am still, and will remain, a happily married woman, there are times when I have to think a little longer about that question before I arrive at the same conclusion. Occasionally, being happy and/or pleasant is a difficult choice; throwing in the towel would be easier. You know that feeling, when you just want to say, "Why does it matter?"
The fact is, in my mind, there isn't really a "choice." I ask myself the question without ever expecting that the answer will be no. I wake up in the morning, and we wake the boys, without ever considering that there is an option about going together as a family. The interesting thing is, frequently when the morning push is particularly trying, and I figure there will be no room for anything to enter my heart, I end up being especially touched by the music, the readings, the homily, seeing a friend.....It's possible that on those occasions, I let my guard down so that I unknowingly let myself hear more in my heart. I certainly wouldn't recommend this as a "method," but I'm grateful for the persistence. (And not just mine.) Likewise, in our marriage, the stressful, cranky, or just plain frustrating times have often turned out to be the times when we've found the most strength. By choice. My point is, marriage and parenting are not easy, or simply defined, or predictable. Marriage and parenting require having a goal, and working toward that goal, consistently and constantly.
I've been married for over half my life, and been a parent for close to half my life. In that time, we've been to Church nearly every weekend, and had dinner together nearly every day. We've been to more concerts, shows, games, meets and matches than I can count. I've also broken up or gotten into the middle of more disagreements, arguments and fights than I care to remember. The goals, though, have always been the same: to raise these boys to be good men, and to love, honor and cherish each other as husband and wife. Each day dawns new, and our lives are our own; no one else can, or should, expect the life we live. Honestly, when I think about how many years, or days, or decades we've been married, I am just as surprised as those guys early in this story. But at the same time, I am proud of our perseverance. (And, truth be told, our competitiveness!) And quite thankful for those who have been our examples.
Goals and expectations.
Showing posts with label marriage. Show all posts
Showing posts with label marriage. Show all posts
Friday, August 16, 2013
Friday, July 5, 2013
momma mia
Over the past few days, I have been getting gentle reminders of the importance of my Momma-ing. And the complexity of the job. All of these reminders are little bits of consolation related to wherever it is that I'm headed.
We've already had our discussion at Book Club about Thomas Merton, but I am still working my way through the book. Although I know I will never be "done" with this book, I have also not yet finished it. One of the very common threads I've run into (you might find something else, or I might the next time I read through it) is the gentle admonishment to be myself, to be the self I was created and intended to be. I know with certainty that a good part of that self is a mother, or mother figure. I also know that as Momma, I muddle through, partly relying on what I've learned from other mothers I admire, partly making it up as I go along, and often asking for guidance.
In the past, asking for guidance came more in the panicked moments when I felt at the end of my rope, stretched too thin, or terribly frightened. In the past year, I've put on a different spin. Nowadays, I ask daily--well, almost daily--for reminders that I am Momma for a reason, or at the very least, for help remembering that much of what I do is an example to my children. In the end, I'm probably asking for guidance, help and support just as much as I always did, but the end result is so much different! Whereas I used to find myself stressed, used up, tired, afraid--in reality, depressed--I now feel more strength to face the challenges, and actual joy that I have them to face. Being a mother is not easy; there are times when no one is happy with the outcome of making and following rules, or following through with consequences. But time and again, even my children have told me how important it is that we do just that.
There have been times when I've told myself there must be more to my life than being their mother. That when they are grown, I will need to find something else, and for that reason, I need to develop other aspects of me. I'm finding that the other aspects of "me" develop best in the context of my identity of "mother." Thomas Merton has helped me to realize just how far-reaching "vocation" is. In an essay on marriage [below], I found the most amazing joy that what I knew was another vocation of mine (marriage) was another shining facet of me. It sounds crazy, but I've lived with a misguided inclination to compartmentalize my roles in order to really show who I am, and, frankly, it's always made me quite uncomfortable in my skin! In actuality, the facets cannot be separated. A prism may separate the colors, but they are always united, touching and attached to each other. I am always, at once, mother, wife, daughter, sister, friend, employee, co-worker, student--all are me. Not simply pieces of me that I can pull out as I need them.
In this knowledge, I've found freedom. Freedom to choose growth and forward motion. Freedom to be the me I was created and intended to be. I still do not know precisely what that means beyond this moment, but I'm also free to follow the road where it leads. Building the road myself was getting me nowhere. Fast. Progress is still slow at times, but the view is far more spectacular when I can free myself of every last detail.
We would be better able to understand the beauty of the religious vocation if we remembered that marriage too is a vocation. The religious life is a special way of sanctity, reserved for comparatively few. The ordinary way to holiness and to the fullness of Christian life is marriage. Most men and women will become saints in the married state. And yet so many Christians who are not called to religious life or to the priesthood say of themselves: "I have no vocation!" What a mistake! They have a wonderful vocation, all the more wonderful because of its relative freedom and lack of formality. For the "society" which is the family loves beautifully by its own spontaneous inner laws. It has no need of codified rule and custom. Love is its rule, and all its customs are the living expression of deep and sincere affection. In a certain sense, the vocation to the married state is more desirable than any other, becuase of the fact that this spontaneity, this spirit of freedom and union in charity is so easily accessible, for the ordinary man, in family life. The formalism and artificiality which creep into religious communities are with difficulty admitted into the circle of a family where powerful human values triumphantly resist the incursions of falsity.
Married people, then, instead of lamenting their supposed "lack of vocation," should highly value the vocation they have actually received. They should thank God for the fact that this vocation, with all its responsibilites and hardships, is a safe and secure way to become holy without being warped or shriveled up by pious conventionalism. The married man and the mother of a Christian family, if they are faithful to their obligations, will fulfill a mission that is as great as it is consoling: that of bringing into the world and forming young souls capable of happiness and love, souls capable of sanctification and transformation in Christ. Living in close union with God the creator and source of life, they will understand better than others the mystery of His infinite fecundity, in which it is their privilege to share. Raising children in difficult social circumstances, they will enter perhaps more deeply into the mystery of divine Providence than others who, by their vow of poverty, ought ideally to be more directly dependent on God than they, but who in fact are never made to feel the anguish of insecurity.
No Man Is an Island, Thomas Merton, p. 152-153
We've already had our discussion at Book Club about Thomas Merton, but I am still working my way through the book. Although I know I will never be "done" with this book, I have also not yet finished it. One of the very common threads I've run into (you might find something else, or I might the next time I read through it) is the gentle admonishment to be myself, to be the self I was created and intended to be. I know with certainty that a good part of that self is a mother, or mother figure. I also know that as Momma, I muddle through, partly relying on what I've learned from other mothers I admire, partly making it up as I go along, and often asking for guidance.
In the past, asking for guidance came more in the panicked moments when I felt at the end of my rope, stretched too thin, or terribly frightened. In the past year, I've put on a different spin. Nowadays, I ask daily--well, almost daily--for reminders that I am Momma for a reason, or at the very least, for help remembering that much of what I do is an example to my children. In the end, I'm probably asking for guidance, help and support just as much as I always did, but the end result is so much different! Whereas I used to find myself stressed, used up, tired, afraid--in reality, depressed--I now feel more strength to face the challenges, and actual joy that I have them to face. Being a mother is not easy; there are times when no one is happy with the outcome of making and following rules, or following through with consequences. But time and again, even my children have told me how important it is that we do just that.
There have been times when I've told myself there must be more to my life than being their mother. That when they are grown, I will need to find something else, and for that reason, I need to develop other aspects of me. I'm finding that the other aspects of "me" develop best in the context of my identity of "mother." Thomas Merton has helped me to realize just how far-reaching "vocation" is. In an essay on marriage [below], I found the most amazing joy that what I knew was another vocation of mine (marriage) was another shining facet of me. It sounds crazy, but I've lived with a misguided inclination to compartmentalize my roles in order to really show who I am, and, frankly, it's always made me quite uncomfortable in my skin! In actuality, the facets cannot be separated. A prism may separate the colors, but they are always united, touching and attached to each other. I am always, at once, mother, wife, daughter, sister, friend, employee, co-worker, student--all are me. Not simply pieces of me that I can pull out as I need them.
In this knowledge, I've found freedom. Freedom to choose growth and forward motion. Freedom to be the me I was created and intended to be. I still do not know precisely what that means beyond this moment, but I'm also free to follow the road where it leads. Building the road myself was getting me nowhere. Fast. Progress is still slow at times, but the view is far more spectacular when I can free myself of every last detail.
We would be better able to understand the beauty of the religious vocation if we remembered that marriage too is a vocation. The religious life is a special way of sanctity, reserved for comparatively few. The ordinary way to holiness and to the fullness of Christian life is marriage. Most men and women will become saints in the married state. And yet so many Christians who are not called to religious life or to the priesthood say of themselves: "I have no vocation!" What a mistake! They have a wonderful vocation, all the more wonderful because of its relative freedom and lack of formality. For the "society" which is the family loves beautifully by its own spontaneous inner laws. It has no need of codified rule and custom. Love is its rule, and all its customs are the living expression of deep and sincere affection. In a certain sense, the vocation to the married state is more desirable than any other, becuase of the fact that this spontaneity, this spirit of freedom and union in charity is so easily accessible, for the ordinary man, in family life. The formalism and artificiality which creep into religious communities are with difficulty admitted into the circle of a family where powerful human values triumphantly resist the incursions of falsity.
Married people, then, instead of lamenting their supposed "lack of vocation," should highly value the vocation they have actually received. They should thank God for the fact that this vocation, with all its responsibilites and hardships, is a safe and secure way to become holy without being warped or shriveled up by pious conventionalism. The married man and the mother of a Christian family, if they are faithful to their obligations, will fulfill a mission that is as great as it is consoling: that of bringing into the world and forming young souls capable of happiness and love, souls capable of sanctification and transformation in Christ. Living in close union with God the creator and source of life, they will understand better than others the mystery of His infinite fecundity, in which it is their privilege to share. Raising children in difficult social circumstances, they will enter perhaps more deeply into the mystery of divine Providence than others who, by their vow of poverty, ought ideally to be more directly dependent on God than they, but who in fact are never made to feel the anguish of insecurity.
No Man Is an Island, Thomas Merton, p. 152-153
Thursday, May 2, 2013
ramble a bit
Last week at a book club (Gone Girl, by Gillian Flynn--a book I found fascinating, but not particularly rewarding), a discussion question was presented:
The decision around the table was that this is never good marriage advice. I don't remember anyone even touching on the second part of the question. Although in the case of Nick and Amy, I find it to be appalling advice [*****SPOILER ALERT!!!!!***** She's a murderess and he is her depressed and self-centered husband], in general, I don't think there's anything wrong with going through the motions once in a while.
Before you get annoyed and turn the page, hear me out. Everyone gets bored. Everyone gets cranky. Everyone goes through times when they just don't feel like issuing forth any extra effort whatsoever. How many times have I (you) gone ahead and taken that fitness class, or pulled on a pair of running/walking shoes even though the mood wasn't right? I know for a fact there were many nights (and Saturday mornings!) when I taught dance that I just didn't want to leave my house, fight traffic, and deal with my class, but I did. And each one of those times, I told myself to fake it; to make it look to the people who were paying for me to be there as though I was having the time of my life. And I can say, in all honesty, almost every single time I went there to fake it, I had a better class than usual.
Making a habit of faking, or faking without knowing the reasons behind it, or faking without being unwilling to talk about it at some point is a bad idea. Living a lie is different from faking it until you make it. Nick went through the motions of loving Amy because he was literally afraid for his life. That's just stupid. Amy went through the motions because if she could make Nick love her, she would be amazing. That's just wrong (on a whole LOT of levels!!). That is NOT what I'm talking about here. Nor am I talking about lying, having an unfulfilling sex life, or suffering in silence from any offense, or abusive/toxic relationships.
What I'm talking about are those times when you realize that there's a reason you fell in love, and even though today it doesn't seem like it's there, it is, because it's still in your heart, and in the memory of your soul. Or when you realize that laziness has set in for whatever reason, and the habit is taking control. Those are the times when you have to keep in mind that a relationship is a living, breathing thing, in need of nurturing and even exercise. Those are the times when you have to dig out a smile when you don't feel like it, search the cobwebbed corners of your mind for a favorite shared memory, open yourself to possibility.
I got a CD from church about prayer in marriage. On it, Fulton Sheen talks about the inevitable "dry spells" of anything we, as humans, do for life. Sometimes they cause us to stop what no longer holds our interest, and other times we get frustrated by the seemingly sudden lack of interest. The decision is ours. If we are writers, we might call it 'writer's block,' runners, 'hitting a plateau.' As a dancer, I would take a class in another technique or from another teacher in order to jumpstart my slagging enthusiasm from time to time. In marriage, for a myriad of reasons, many people have the impression that everything should come up roses all the time, and if a dry spell hits, the magic must be gone and the marriage is over. Fulton Sheen said that those are the times when it's up to the spouse who is still flying high to carry the other through prayer and love. It was beautiful! Shortly after listening to the CD (and laughing through tears!) I saw a little ditty that I had seen before, but not paid much attention. Celebrating some huge number of years of marriage, a couple was asked their secret. The response: We never fell out of love at the same time.
We never fell out of love at the same time.
Isn't that beautiful?? Even in those dry spells--those times when he was making her crazy forgetting to _____ (fill in the blank), or when she was constantly ___________ (fill in the blank), the one still managed to love the other. To be in love with the other. It's not always easy. When we mentor engaged couples, we encourage them to keep their workbooks for those days when they need a reminder of the planning the wedding days, the getting read for a long marriage days.
Like any journey, there are times when concessions must be made. My brother says, "Don't say you don't care where we stop if you really don't want Chinese," not because he plans to stop for Chinese, but because sometimes when we think that something doesn't matter to us, we realize pretty quickly that it does, and that can ignite into an argument, or it can become an opportunity to fake it for a bit in order to ensure that love can continue on its course.
At one point, Amy quotes the advice "Fake it until you make it." Later, Nick writes, "We pretend to be in love, and we do the things we like to do when we're in love, and it feels almost like love sometimes, because we are so perfectly putting ourselves through the paces" (404).
Generally speaking, do you think this is good marriage advice? Do Nick and Amy disprove this advice?
The decision around the table was that this is never good marriage advice. I don't remember anyone even touching on the second part of the question. Although in the case of Nick and Amy, I find it to be appalling advice [*****SPOILER ALERT!!!!!***** She's a murderess and he is her depressed and self-centered husband], in general, I don't think there's anything wrong with going through the motions once in a while.
Before you get annoyed and turn the page, hear me out. Everyone gets bored. Everyone gets cranky. Everyone goes through times when they just don't feel like issuing forth any extra effort whatsoever. How many times have I (you) gone ahead and taken that fitness class, or pulled on a pair of running/walking shoes even though the mood wasn't right? I know for a fact there were many nights (and Saturday mornings!) when I taught dance that I just didn't want to leave my house, fight traffic, and deal with my class, but I did. And each one of those times, I told myself to fake it; to make it look to the people who were paying for me to be there as though I was having the time of my life. And I can say, in all honesty, almost every single time I went there to fake it, I had a better class than usual.
Making a habit of faking, or faking without knowing the reasons behind it, or faking without being unwilling to talk about it at some point is a bad idea. Living a lie is different from faking it until you make it. Nick went through the motions of loving Amy because he was literally afraid for his life. That's just stupid. Amy went through the motions because if she could make Nick love her, she would be amazing. That's just wrong (on a whole LOT of levels!!). That is NOT what I'm talking about here. Nor am I talking about lying, having an unfulfilling sex life, or suffering in silence from any offense, or abusive/toxic relationships.
What I'm talking about are those times when you realize that there's a reason you fell in love, and even though today it doesn't seem like it's there, it is, because it's still in your heart, and in the memory of your soul. Or when you realize that laziness has set in for whatever reason, and the habit is taking control. Those are the times when you have to keep in mind that a relationship is a living, breathing thing, in need of nurturing and even exercise. Those are the times when you have to dig out a smile when you don't feel like it, search the cobwebbed corners of your mind for a favorite shared memory, open yourself to possibility.
I got a CD from church about prayer in marriage. On it, Fulton Sheen talks about the inevitable "dry spells" of anything we, as humans, do for life. Sometimes they cause us to stop what no longer holds our interest, and other times we get frustrated by the seemingly sudden lack of interest. The decision is ours. If we are writers, we might call it 'writer's block,' runners, 'hitting a plateau.' As a dancer, I would take a class in another technique or from another teacher in order to jumpstart my slagging enthusiasm from time to time. In marriage, for a myriad of reasons, many people have the impression that everything should come up roses all the time, and if a dry spell hits, the magic must be gone and the marriage is over. Fulton Sheen said that those are the times when it's up to the spouse who is still flying high to carry the other through prayer and love. It was beautiful! Shortly after listening to the CD (and laughing through tears!) I saw a little ditty that I had seen before, but not paid much attention. Celebrating some huge number of years of marriage, a couple was asked their secret. The response: We never fell out of love at the same time.
We never fell out of love at the same time.
Isn't that beautiful?? Even in those dry spells--those times when he was making her crazy forgetting to _____ (fill in the blank), or when she was constantly ___________ (fill in the blank), the one still managed to love the other. To be in love with the other. It's not always easy. When we mentor engaged couples, we encourage them to keep their workbooks for those days when they need a reminder of the planning the wedding days, the getting read for a long marriage days.
Like any journey, there are times when concessions must be made. My brother says, "Don't say you don't care where we stop if you really don't want Chinese," not because he plans to stop for Chinese, but because sometimes when we think that something doesn't matter to us, we realize pretty quickly that it does, and that can ignite into an argument, or it can become an opportunity to fake it for a bit in order to ensure that love can continue on its course.
Monday, April 8, 2013
wild blue yonder
My husband drops me off at work every morning, and picks me up at the end of the day. These little five-minute trips have become treasured time for us, and sometimes the face of everything can change in that span.
Roughly nine months out of the year, he is coaching 5-7 days a week, in addition to a full-time job and a couple of special volunteer positions that are dear to him. The three months he's off (not all in a row!) are also golden time that we have come to cherish. (It hasn't always been that way--we've known our share of crankiness and resentment, but we're grownng, learning, evolving. We've started to appreciate the blessing of the time we share.) Added to this juggling act is the time we need to nurture our own friendships and needs. It's not easy. (My Minute Meditation for today: Faith is not a cushion to rest easy upon. Faith takes work and dedication. Another one of those not so coincidental things!)
Anyway, yesterday, a friend and I made plans to have some girl time tonight. While I have been looking forward to it, I also know that Guy is off tonight. That wasn't going to stop me from going (he wouldn't have let me cancel, anyway!), but a small part of me felt bad for making plans on a night he's home. This morning, he asked what I thought of his asking a friend of his about going out tonight, too. I thought it a marvelous idea! Both of us need to work harder at cultivating our friendships in order to enrich our relationship with each other, and with our family. When he picked me up today, he said he'd asked his friend.
"Just read my messages!" Instead of going out later, while I would be out with the girls, he had an invitation to go flying. "When?" I asked.
In a flash, he was saying, "Be careful, you're on speaker!" They would meet after dropping me off at home. I mentioned that I was trying not to be jealous.
By the time we got home, conversing about the appointment he'd taken Mom to today, I realized there was not a bit of jealousy in me. I am ecstatic for him! He gets to spend some time with a good friend, doing something I don't think he's ever done before, and it's a gorgeous day. What more could I ask for my husband? Later, I will get to see the excitement in his eyes as he tells me all about it, and he'll get to relive my girls night with me, too.
As he pulled out of the driveway, I said a prayer of thanksgiving, and laughed with joy.
Roughly nine months out of the year, he is coaching 5-7 days a week, in addition to a full-time job and a couple of special volunteer positions that are dear to him. The three months he's off (not all in a row!) are also golden time that we have come to cherish. (It hasn't always been that way--we've known our share of crankiness and resentment, but we're grownng, learning, evolving. We've started to appreciate the blessing of the time we share.) Added to this juggling act is the time we need to nurture our own friendships and needs. It's not easy. (My Minute Meditation for today: Faith is not a cushion to rest easy upon. Faith takes work and dedication. Another one of those not so coincidental things!)
Anyway, yesterday, a friend and I made plans to have some girl time tonight. While I have been looking forward to it, I also know that Guy is off tonight. That wasn't going to stop me from going (he wouldn't have let me cancel, anyway!), but a small part of me felt bad for making plans on a night he's home. This morning, he asked what I thought of his asking a friend of his about going out tonight, too. I thought it a marvelous idea! Both of us need to work harder at cultivating our friendships in order to enrich our relationship with each other, and with our family. When he picked me up today, he said he'd asked his friend.
"Just read my messages!" Instead of going out later, while I would be out with the girls, he had an invitation to go flying. "When?" I asked.
In a flash, he was saying, "Be careful, you're on speaker!" They would meet after dropping me off at home. I mentioned that I was trying not to be jealous.
By the time we got home, conversing about the appointment he'd taken Mom to today, I realized there was not a bit of jealousy in me. I am ecstatic for him! He gets to spend some time with a good friend, doing something I don't think he's ever done before, and it's a gorgeous day. What more could I ask for my husband? Later, I will get to see the excitement in his eyes as he tells me all about it, and he'll get to relive my girls night with me, too.
As he pulled out of the driveway, I said a prayer of thanksgiving, and laughed with joy.
Monday, March 11, 2013
my best friend
For years and years, I would hear my friends and others talk about their spouses and refer to them as their "best friends." A majority of these friends of mine have been women, and I generally attributed the reference to their femininity. I am not your typical girl. Despite my emotional nature, and my love of dancing and dressing up, I have never been overly feminine. In fact, as a rule, when I've heard others describe me, the word "athletic" is often mentioned, which certainly does not refer to my physical abilities, but to my looks and features.
Lately, though, I really do have different feelings. In the past few months, I've learned to let go of expectations that are simply my own. I've rediscovered the joy of learning, of listening intently (and without the distraction of babies, kids, the mail, bills, television, whatever) and dates that sometimes only last about 10 minutes, but are planned for and anticipated.
The other night, I got a text that said, "You know, it's kind of fun missing you." Completely taken aback, sitting by myself in the dining area at an out-of-town grocery store, I smiled and realized just how much I felt the same way. Never had I ever felt what I felt at that moment. Not once in all my life had I considered that missing someone could be a good feeling; something to make me feel alive and in love. That's when I realized, without a doubt, that my husband is my very best friend in the world. I had been coming to that conclusion, but I need clear-cut signs, signals and direction. (We talked about that this morning, and the way I like to sometimes tell God that I need Him to be clearer with me--and that I also am very much aware that God probably doesn't much appreciate me giving him orders of any kind. Who else could I have had that talk with first? Only my bestie.) I needed it spelled out, the depth and breadth of this love I continue to fall into.
Not one for favorites, it's been quite a long time since I could, or would even attempt to identify a "best friend." In my life experience, best friends are a misnomer. Every time I'd thought I had a best friend, it would turn out that they had some other best friend, and I would get confused, hurt--but all in my own self. I can't believe it's taken me all this time (including 20+ years of marriage!) to see that friendship is so organic. For the first time in my life, I am my best friend's best friend. And as a bonus, he is also my lover. I do enjoy missing him--sometimes a wee bit on a workday, and other times quite a bit when he is away from home overnight. I enjoy opening my heart wide, and sharing what is there, sometimes with words, and sometimes by listening. I love the good times, and the bad, the happiness and the frustration. I am blessed, because my best friend knows all of these things.
My best friend knows.
He knows. And I am so very happy to be here with him.
Lately, though, I really do have different feelings. In the past few months, I've learned to let go of expectations that are simply my own. I've rediscovered the joy of learning, of listening intently (and without the distraction of babies, kids, the mail, bills, television, whatever) and dates that sometimes only last about 10 minutes, but are planned for and anticipated.
The other night, I got a text that said, "You know, it's kind of fun missing you." Completely taken aback, sitting by myself in the dining area at an out-of-town grocery store, I smiled and realized just how much I felt the same way. Never had I ever felt what I felt at that moment. Not once in all my life had I considered that missing someone could be a good feeling; something to make me feel alive and in love. That's when I realized, without a doubt, that my husband is my very best friend in the world. I had been coming to that conclusion, but I need clear-cut signs, signals and direction. (We talked about that this morning, and the way I like to sometimes tell God that I need Him to be clearer with me--and that I also am very much aware that God probably doesn't much appreciate me giving him orders of any kind. Who else could I have had that talk with first? Only my bestie.) I needed it spelled out, the depth and breadth of this love I continue to fall into.
Not one for favorites, it's been quite a long time since I could, or would even attempt to identify a "best friend." In my life experience, best friends are a misnomer. Every time I'd thought I had a best friend, it would turn out that they had some other best friend, and I would get confused, hurt--but all in my own self. I can't believe it's taken me all this time (including 20+ years of marriage!) to see that friendship is so organic. For the first time in my life, I am my best friend's best friend. And as a bonus, he is also my lover. I do enjoy missing him--sometimes a wee bit on a workday, and other times quite a bit when he is away from home overnight. I enjoy opening my heart wide, and sharing what is there, sometimes with words, and sometimes by listening. I love the good times, and the bad, the happiness and the frustration. I am blessed, because my best friend knows all of these things.
My best friend knows.
He knows. And I am so very happy to be here with him.
Sunday, February 3, 2013
up, up and away
Twenty-three years ago today, at sunrise, we stood on a bluff outside of Bethel, Maine, watching a black balloon wobble as it ascended, disappointment in the air. The wobble meant that there would be no hot air balloon launch that cold Saturday morning: the air was not still enough. It was the day before the beginning of the annual (at the time) balloon festival, and our first visit to the mountains of Maine. Tired (we had driven through a sleet and ice storm 5 hours the night before) and a little crestfallen, we climbed back in the truck, and headed back to the Sunday River Resort. The plan had been to fly, then ski, so we simply reversed the day.
Over the next 4 hours or so, we tried every trail and lift we could, taking in the breathtaking views, shushing down the well-groomed trails. From time to time we raced each other. On the long, wide, easy trail, we talked as we skied side by side, marvelling at the quiet the blanket of fresh snow provided. In talking to another skier--one who clearly had more experience than we did--we found out that the slopes were lightly attended that day, because the powdery new snow was too "Rocky Mountain" for the regulars, who preferred the icier, faster snow that usually fell in these east coast mountains. Truthfully, we were grateful for the relative solitude: this trip was my birthday gift from Guy and a friend of ours--the balloon pilot. He was hoping we would help him at Festivals, and said we should know what a flight feels like first.
Little did I know, everyone had ulterior motives on this trip....
Mid-afternoon found us getting changed and slurping down some soup before loading back up for another attempt at lift-off. The best times for launch are sunrise and sunset, when the air is most still. Sometime I will post about the trip we took that afternoon (it was literally the adventure of a lifetime, not what we expected, nor anything less than movie material!) above the beautiful Bethel area. This post, however, is about the highlight. In the sky above a snowy mountain, with no sound but the occasional whoosh of a burner, the man I have loved through thick and thin, who has grown to be as much a part of my heart as I am myself, produced a heart-shaped diamond ring from nowhere and asked me to be his wife. To this day, I do not know whether I spoke my assent. I was so filled with surprise, wonder and happiness that I only remember feeling even lighter than the lighter-than-air-filled silk that was carrying our wicker basket floor as part of the clouds. I was a bird, a butterfly, an angel on gossamer wings. I know I hugged him, and our pilot (who knew all along), and that I marvelled at how my ungloved hands were not even cold as I admired the most beautiful piece of jewelry I've ever owned glittering on my finger like the snow below us.
Once we landed and got back to civilization, I found out that nearly everyone we had met that day already knew Guy's plans. In fact, the next morning, when we went back to ski for a few hours, we were met in the Lodge by the Activities Director with a post-proposal proposition. She offered to foot the bill for our entire wedding, if we would get married the following weekend as part of the closing of the Festival. She had visions of our ceremony in the sky over the slopes, culminating in fireworks after our landing.
As tempting an offer it was, neither of us could bear the possibility of our families being unable to attend on such short notice. As Guy tried to explain, as tactfully as he could, I kept trying to imagine how on earth a bride could gracefully (or in any way attractively!) enter and exit a gondola in a wedding dress. Though disappointed, she completely understood, but didn't offer the invitation for the following year's festival--we might have taken her up on it, if she had!
I still gaze at that sparkling diamond, amazed that it was chosen especially for me. Although I'm sure others have them, I've never seen another heart-shaped engagement ring, and that has me admiring and appreciating it all the more. This stone has saved me on more than one occasion, and has brought a smile to not only my lips, but my own heart, many, many times. Like a crystal ball, the future and the past are found within, it's facets reflecting emotion, memories, hopes and dreams, along with the beauty that surrounded us--and surrounds us still--on that special, miraculous day.
Truly a blessing of the heart.
Over the next 4 hours or so, we tried every trail and lift we could, taking in the breathtaking views, shushing down the well-groomed trails. From time to time we raced each other. On the long, wide, easy trail, we talked as we skied side by side, marvelling at the quiet the blanket of fresh snow provided. In talking to another skier--one who clearly had more experience than we did--we found out that the slopes were lightly attended that day, because the powdery new snow was too "Rocky Mountain" for the regulars, who preferred the icier, faster snow that usually fell in these east coast mountains. Truthfully, we were grateful for the relative solitude: this trip was my birthday gift from Guy and a friend of ours--the balloon pilot. He was hoping we would help him at Festivals, and said we should know what a flight feels like first.
Little did I know, everyone had ulterior motives on this trip....
Mid-afternoon found us getting changed and slurping down some soup before loading back up for another attempt at lift-off. The best times for launch are sunrise and sunset, when the air is most still. Sometime I will post about the trip we took that afternoon (it was literally the adventure of a lifetime, not what we expected, nor anything less than movie material!) above the beautiful Bethel area. This post, however, is about the highlight. In the sky above a snowy mountain, with no sound but the occasional whoosh of a burner, the man I have loved through thick and thin, who has grown to be as much a part of my heart as I am myself, produced a heart-shaped diamond ring from nowhere and asked me to be his wife. To this day, I do not know whether I spoke my assent. I was so filled with surprise, wonder and happiness that I only remember feeling even lighter than the lighter-than-air-filled silk that was carrying our wicker basket floor as part of the clouds. I was a bird, a butterfly, an angel on gossamer wings. I know I hugged him, and our pilot (who knew all along), and that I marvelled at how my ungloved hands were not even cold as I admired the most beautiful piece of jewelry I've ever owned glittering on my finger like the snow below us.
Once we landed and got back to civilization, I found out that nearly everyone we had met that day already knew Guy's plans. In fact, the next morning, when we went back to ski for a few hours, we were met in the Lodge by the Activities Director with a post-proposal proposition. She offered to foot the bill for our entire wedding, if we would get married the following weekend as part of the closing of the Festival. She had visions of our ceremony in the sky over the slopes, culminating in fireworks after our landing.
As tempting an offer it was, neither of us could bear the possibility of our families being unable to attend on such short notice. As Guy tried to explain, as tactfully as he could, I kept trying to imagine how on earth a bride could gracefully (or in any way attractively!) enter and exit a gondola in a wedding dress. Though disappointed, she completely understood, but didn't offer the invitation for the following year's festival--we might have taken her up on it, if she had!
I still gaze at that sparkling diamond, amazed that it was chosen especially for me. Although I'm sure others have them, I've never seen another heart-shaped engagement ring, and that has me admiring and appreciating it all the more. This stone has saved me on more than one occasion, and has brought a smile to not only my lips, but my own heart, many, many times. Like a crystal ball, the future and the past are found within, it's facets reflecting emotion, memories, hopes and dreams, along with the beauty that surrounded us--and surrounds us still--on that special, miraculous day.
Truly a blessing of the heart.
Saturday, February 2, 2013
lessons along the way
Sitting at a swim meet today, on my birthday, halfway between wishing I was somewhere else, and unable to imagine any other plans for the day. Texting with our oldest, away at college, he joked that he didn't know what I meant in reference to the flow of the meet. I told him that someday I hoped to be able to forget just how long they can feel, these days in the bleachers at a natatorium. I don't mean it, of course; if we are not by a pool on a winter (or summer!) Saturday morning, listening to the rhythmic splash of various strokes, and the whistle and "boop!" of the start, then something strange and awful must have transpired in our lives. My husband gives of himself for this sport that saved his life, and I truly am grateful that the pool and a swim team brought us together, too (though I have, from time to time, forgotten that amazing detail).
Watching him work is a treat: he loves what he is doing, and is so very good at it. Today, I rejoiced to be able to see him cheering for our youngest, wishing I could have been on deck to cheer like that when he was a kid swimming. I see him now, talking to a swimmer about her race, and I see how he is able to apply all that he has learned in a lifetime of pool time. We've worked with so many coaches in all this time, most of them good, some pretty bad, and a few, truly great. The good and great ones will always be a part of our lives, the rest will continue to haunt us, I'm sure.
Try as I might, I have not developed a passion for the sport. A love and an appreciation, most definitely, but for too long, I tried too hard. It brought a hardness to my spirit, and derision to our lives. Neither of us really wanted to accept that loving my family was enough to love being here on a day like today. Learning that lesson has made such a huge difference. Once again, I feel like I did at those early meets, when I was falling in love with more than just a man; I was falling in love with his life, as well. Sharing this aspect of his life brings me joy, and when that's what's going on, it is enough.
"I wish you enough" is the blessing I pass along. When life and love are enough, the heart is at peace, joy can thrive, and laughter fills the soul. I have enough, and for that, I am eternally grateful.
Saturday, January 12, 2013
and always
Today, My Love
Twenty-two years ago, I spent the morning with some wonderful women preparing for the beginning of the adventure of a lifetime. We had our nails done (a gift for me from my employer), our makeup done (a gift from a friend), and Guy's sister did my hair (a gift from her to me). We laughed and dressed, wondered what affect the weather would have on our day, and marvelled at how quickly time was passing.
We'll start a brand new today, My Love
The kids arrived, with their lopsided smiles and fancy outfits, passing hugs out to everyone. D, with her hat, warmed my heart, telling me that she was so very excited that I would become her 'taunte' for real soon. I wonder if I have ever told her how integral a part she played in the early days of my relationship with her uncle; how special it has been to me that she was willing to have a part in that day, and in so many days since. Once my heart was warmed, Dan-O melted it, pointing out his "'Talian leather shoes" and saying, "You are so beautiful, Aunt Fannie!"
Let all our worries slip away, My Love
The big concern was how to get my lace boots out to the limo. The snow was wet and messy. The last thing I needed was cold feet--in the literal sense! Plastic grocery bags were produced, slipped on like Cinderella's slipper, and tied or rubber-banded to my ankles. I was reminded of elementary school, when Mom would have us put bread bags on our feet inside our snow boots, "just in case" the snow didn't stay out where it belonged. Back then, I was the only one with plastic boot liners; once again, I was the only one in the group with bags on her feet. A funny reminder of the circles in life.
Time for us to start anew!
As Guy walked his mother up the aisle, the soloist sang "Sunrise, Sunset" from Fiddler on the Roof. I peeked through the curtain to catch a glimpse of him, and immediately began to cry. Dad and I were alone in the little room, and he caught me in his arms telling me, "We don't have to go through with this. If you want me to take you out of here, we can go." At the time, I was so confused: I thought he liked Guy; I thought he was excited and happy for me. Years later, I realized it was one of only 2 times my father was so overcome by emotion he didn't know how to simply say, "You're my little girl. And you always will be." Despite my confusion at his reaction, I was overcome with joy that he was my Dad; the man I'd first given my heart to.
So let's pray My Love, All our tomorrows like today, Sweet Love
The rest of the day is a blur of ceremony, pictures, hugs, food, dance, laughter, and joy. Both our families were there (except my brother-in-love, who we thought of often that day, far away in Saudi Arabia) and so many wonderful friends. I have so many pictures, each of which brings back a sliver or the day--a word, a joke, a tear. Two of the dearest, though, I didn't see until many years afterwards: my college roommate snapped a picture of me dancing with Dad, and she had another of the two of us. Two very special moments, with two very special people. I love looking through those albums!
We'll be together this way, in Love
In the years since, we've had good days and bad days--heck, good years and bad years! We've not only aged, but we've also grown up together. We were so young when we married, and really did have so much to learn about everything. Have I ever wondered if we should have done things differently? Sure. Have I ever regretted any of it? Not a chance. There isn't anyone I'd rather have grown up with, learned with, made mistakes with. No one I'd rather be on this roller coaster adventure of a journey with. No one I'd rather dance with, laugh and cry with, talk with, fight with. Be with.
You for me and me for you.
We've faced challenges of all kinds: kids, financial, physical, emotional, marital.....but that can't break us. Together we are strong. At our wedding, against the wishes of some family members, when we lit our unity candle, we insisted on leaving our individual candles lit, too. We felt so strongly that we needed to be seen as individuals, as a man and a woman, in addition to being one, united couple, facing the world together. I still feel that way. Part of my strength comes from having the support of my husband behind me, but most of my strength comes from the fact of me, and my own experience, faith, and interests. We have more in common now than we did then; or, rather, we've found more of the things we share an interest in during these 22 years. But we've also come to terms with the differences we have. I will not likely ever want to just sit and watch a game on TV, just as he will not likely ever want to knit or sew. We still surprise each other with bits of ourselves: things we learn about ourselves and each other, still.
Much like the sunshine on a cloudy day, Love appears from no place
I wasn't looking for a soul mate when I found Guy. Far from it. I was looking to find myself. It seems that's when the best things happen: when searching takes a backseat. Since the first time I saw him, though, I've known that we shared something special. Could we have known each other in a past life, or were we destined to be together? Does it really matter why we found each other? The important thing is that we did, and that the love that has grown between us--though tested many times--has become a life force. I am blessed in that I have found the love of my life, and he has found me.
Just when I need someone to pull me through....
You'll be here for me, and I'll be there for you!
Happy anniversary, My Love. And thank you to all who have been there for us, with us, in support, in love, and in faith, whether in person or in spirit. We couldn't have gotten here without you.
Thank you to Midnight Star for the beautiful song we used for our first dance. Today My Love is engraved in our wedding rings, and has been a powerful reminder to us about how to live our marriage. Quite a departure from the songs for which you were known, and one that we can never request a DJ to play (no one knows what we're talking about!), the melody, lyrics and message come to me to "bring out the joy in me."
Twenty-two years ago, I spent the morning with some wonderful women preparing for the beginning of the adventure of a lifetime. We had our nails done (a gift for me from my employer), our makeup done (a gift from a friend), and Guy's sister did my hair (a gift from her to me). We laughed and dressed, wondered what affect the weather would have on our day, and marvelled at how quickly time was passing.
We'll start a brand new today, My Love
The kids arrived, with their lopsided smiles and fancy outfits, passing hugs out to everyone. D, with her hat, warmed my heart, telling me that she was so very excited that I would become her 'taunte' for real soon. I wonder if I have ever told her how integral a part she played in the early days of my relationship with her uncle; how special it has been to me that she was willing to have a part in that day, and in so many days since. Once my heart was warmed, Dan-O melted it, pointing out his "'Talian leather shoes" and saying, "You are so beautiful, Aunt Fannie!"
Let all our worries slip away, My Love
The big concern was how to get my lace boots out to the limo. The snow was wet and messy. The last thing I needed was cold feet--in the literal sense! Plastic grocery bags were produced, slipped on like Cinderella's slipper, and tied or rubber-banded to my ankles. I was reminded of elementary school, when Mom would have us put bread bags on our feet inside our snow boots, "just in case" the snow didn't stay out where it belonged. Back then, I was the only one with plastic boot liners; once again, I was the only one in the group with bags on her feet. A funny reminder of the circles in life.
Time for us to start anew!
As Guy walked his mother up the aisle, the soloist sang "Sunrise, Sunset" from Fiddler on the Roof. I peeked through the curtain to catch a glimpse of him, and immediately began to cry. Dad and I were alone in the little room, and he caught me in his arms telling me, "We don't have to go through with this. If you want me to take you out of here, we can go." At the time, I was so confused: I thought he liked Guy; I thought he was excited and happy for me. Years later, I realized it was one of only 2 times my father was so overcome by emotion he didn't know how to simply say, "You're my little girl. And you always will be." Despite my confusion at his reaction, I was overcome with joy that he was my Dad; the man I'd first given my heart to.
So let's pray My Love, All our tomorrows like today, Sweet Love
The rest of the day is a blur of ceremony, pictures, hugs, food, dance, laughter, and joy. Both our families were there (except my brother-in-love, who we thought of often that day, far away in Saudi Arabia) and so many wonderful friends. I have so many pictures, each of which brings back a sliver or the day--a word, a joke, a tear. Two of the dearest, though, I didn't see until many years afterwards: my college roommate snapped a picture of me dancing with Dad, and she had another of the two of us. Two very special moments, with two very special people. I love looking through those albums!
We'll be together this way, in Love
In the years since, we've had good days and bad days--heck, good years and bad years! We've not only aged, but we've also grown up together. We were so young when we married, and really did have so much to learn about everything. Have I ever wondered if we should have done things differently? Sure. Have I ever regretted any of it? Not a chance. There isn't anyone I'd rather have grown up with, learned with, made mistakes with. No one I'd rather be on this roller coaster adventure of a journey with. No one I'd rather dance with, laugh and cry with, talk with, fight with. Be with.
You for me and me for you.
We've faced challenges of all kinds: kids, financial, physical, emotional, marital.....but that can't break us. Together we are strong. At our wedding, against the wishes of some family members, when we lit our unity candle, we insisted on leaving our individual candles lit, too. We felt so strongly that we needed to be seen as individuals, as a man and a woman, in addition to being one, united couple, facing the world together. I still feel that way. Part of my strength comes from having the support of my husband behind me, but most of my strength comes from the fact of me, and my own experience, faith, and interests. We have more in common now than we did then; or, rather, we've found more of the things we share an interest in during these 22 years. But we've also come to terms with the differences we have. I will not likely ever want to just sit and watch a game on TV, just as he will not likely ever want to knit or sew. We still surprise each other with bits of ourselves: things we learn about ourselves and each other, still.
Much like the sunshine on a cloudy day, Love appears from no place
I wasn't looking for a soul mate when I found Guy. Far from it. I was looking to find myself. It seems that's when the best things happen: when searching takes a backseat. Since the first time I saw him, though, I've known that we shared something special. Could we have known each other in a past life, or were we destined to be together? Does it really matter why we found each other? The important thing is that we did, and that the love that has grown between us--though tested many times--has become a life force. I am blessed in that I have found the love of my life, and he has found me.
Just when I need someone to pull me through....
You'll be here for me, and I'll be there for you!
Happy anniversary, My Love. And thank you to all who have been there for us, with us, in support, in love, and in faith, whether in person or in spirit. We couldn't have gotten here without you.
Thank you to Midnight Star for the beautiful song we used for our first dance. Today My Love is engraved in our wedding rings, and has been a powerful reminder to us about how to live our marriage. Quite a departure from the songs for which you were known, and one that we can never request a DJ to play (no one knows what we're talking about!), the melody, lyrics and message come to me to "bring out the joy in me."
Thursday, January 3, 2013
all our tomorrows, today
Although I don't remember exactly, I'm sure that somewhere in the hustle and bustle of wedding preparations and final fittings 22 years ago this week, there was a moment when I stopped and wondered how, or if, my life was going to change. I remember so little of the preparations at this point--just over a week away--but I do remember being so wildly happy about the plans we'd made, the dreams we'd shared. I vaguely remember being a tad concerned about the forecast, but no matter what, despite being very, very young, I knew we were about to have the greatest adventure of our lives.
And it has been.
We've had ups and downs, but that's exactly what we signed on for: "For richer or poorer, in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, as long as we both shall live." I told Guy once that when he really is getting my goat, I think of that day, and saying, "I do" in front of all those people who managed to get to the Church (the weather definitely looked worse than it was. I swear!) and that's all I need to remind me that some promises are more than just immutable; they are resilient and impenetrable.
At a rough spot, I remember Guy asking me what I was doing to improve my attitude. (We were both in quite a cranky place. Each of us had lost a parent, and both of us were stressed about life, income, everything.) I came across a bit of advice for those who like to write, and, though it sounded morbid, I decided to give it a try: write a eulogy or obituary for the one you love. The article I was reading argued that in such pieces, there can be no negativity, so the good things will resurface, distill, and become focal points. I didn't hesitate. I wrote the following, longhand, folded it up in my planner, and proceeded to forget I had written it. You see, as I wrote, I realized I didn't need the reminder: I am in love with my husband. Pure and simple. I found this yesterday when transcribing birthdays from that old planner from a few years ago into my new planner. Guy never saw it; and I was pleased to find that my heart feels just the same today.
Guy took my breath away the first time I saw him, and continued to do so. That first time, I was struck by the confidence and bearing that he possessed -- I could hardly believe that he was only my own age. Where I was confident in myself, he was determined regarding his future: he had a plan, a dream, and knew how to achieve it. I had an instant crush.
Through him, I learned that exercise and sports can be fun. He taught me how to throw a football, catch and hit a softball, shoot a basketball. He inspired me to take tennis lessons, learn to swim (effectively), and, eventually, to dance again.
I know that I have always driven him crazy: I talk too much; I clam up when I get grumpy; I cry easily; I hate to get frustrated--so I either avoid things I'm unsure of, or I blow up--neither of which serves any purpose other than embarrassing myself. Nevertheless, despite getting irritated with me, Guy always managed to touch my hair, my hand, my back, and calm me.
Because he treated me with respect from the very first, I became, or rather, found that I was, a strong woman. Whereas many of my thoughts and ideas had previously been either ignored or humored, with Guy I had an interested audience. He would listen to the unusual connections I make, and ask questions that helped to clarify and expand my thoughts. Mostly those conversations amounted to notes on scrap paper, which I can see may also have frustrated him to no end, but for me, they were always extremely enlightening; sometimes revealing larger truths, and sometimes resulting in pure silliness.
Guy does not make me whole. I can function well without him because of the person he has helped me to become. He is not the only person to have shaped me in some way as an adult. He is not the only person I turn to when I need something. Yet with him, I continue to become. It is because of Guy that I want to continue to evolve with a purpose. It is because of the life we've shared that I work toward improving myself. At the same time, I am fully aware that I can, and would, continue to grow even without him. I enjoy the effort all the more because Guy is a part of it. I love him. -- I have since I first saw him, and cannot imagine stopping, for any reason.
Why do I love him? Because "I do."
And it has been.
We've had ups and downs, but that's exactly what we signed on for: "For richer or poorer, in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, as long as we both shall live." I told Guy once that when he really is getting my goat, I think of that day, and saying, "I do" in front of all those people who managed to get to the Church (the weather definitely looked worse than it was. I swear!) and that's all I need to remind me that some promises are more than just immutable; they are resilient and impenetrable.
At a rough spot, I remember Guy asking me what I was doing to improve my attitude. (We were both in quite a cranky place. Each of us had lost a parent, and both of us were stressed about life, income, everything.) I came across a bit of advice for those who like to write, and, though it sounded morbid, I decided to give it a try: write a eulogy or obituary for the one you love. The article I was reading argued that in such pieces, there can be no negativity, so the good things will resurface, distill, and become focal points. I didn't hesitate. I wrote the following, longhand, folded it up in my planner, and proceeded to forget I had written it. You see, as I wrote, I realized I didn't need the reminder: I am in love with my husband. Pure and simple. I found this yesterday when transcribing birthdays from that old planner from a few years ago into my new planner. Guy never saw it; and I was pleased to find that my heart feels just the same today.
Guy took my breath away the first time I saw him, and continued to do so. That first time, I was struck by the confidence and bearing that he possessed -- I could hardly believe that he was only my own age. Where I was confident in myself, he was determined regarding his future: he had a plan, a dream, and knew how to achieve it. I had an instant crush.
Through him, I learned that exercise and sports can be fun. He taught me how to throw a football, catch and hit a softball, shoot a basketball. He inspired me to take tennis lessons, learn to swim (effectively), and, eventually, to dance again.
I know that I have always driven him crazy: I talk too much; I clam up when I get grumpy; I cry easily; I hate to get frustrated--so I either avoid things I'm unsure of, or I blow up--neither of which serves any purpose other than embarrassing myself. Nevertheless, despite getting irritated with me, Guy always managed to touch my hair, my hand, my back, and calm me.
Because he treated me with respect from the very first, I became, or rather, found that I was, a strong woman. Whereas many of my thoughts and ideas had previously been either ignored or humored, with Guy I had an interested audience. He would listen to the unusual connections I make, and ask questions that helped to clarify and expand my thoughts. Mostly those conversations amounted to notes on scrap paper, which I can see may also have frustrated him to no end, but for me, they were always extremely enlightening; sometimes revealing larger truths, and sometimes resulting in pure silliness.
Guy does not make me whole. I can function well without him because of the person he has helped me to become. He is not the only person to have shaped me in some way as an adult. He is not the only person I turn to when I need something. Yet with him, I continue to become. It is because of Guy that I want to continue to evolve with a purpose. It is because of the life we've shared that I work toward improving myself. At the same time, I am fully aware that I can, and would, continue to grow even without him. I enjoy the effort all the more because Guy is a part of it. I love him. -- I have since I first saw him, and cannot imagine stopping, for any reason.
Why do I love him? Because "I do."
Monday, November 5, 2012
on a dime
I just got a text from a friend asking about lunch this week. A wonderfully bright little moment in my day, and it reminded me of one more thing that's about to change. I'm going to be starting a new job soon that will be an exciting change in our lives, and our lifestyle. Since the call came, I have been alternately bouncing and deflating, culminating in quite a blowup last night. Change management is usually one of my specialties, but most of the time, I am focusing my energy on guiding someone else through the stressors associated with "new" stuff. As a result, I didn't even really recognize what was running around up there in the attic space of my head. (You know that space; where ideas, fears, memories, and the name of that person you just saw at the grocery store hide like mice and spiders so that you can't quite find them until all of a sudden, BAM!! In your face!!)
My current position has been "home" for a year and a half, but prior to that, I worked in much the same capacity, in almost the same chair, for four years. That's a bunch of roots. I love what I do, and if it had been a full-time position, or even half again the hours I have, I would never leave. The faculty and staff are amazing to work with, to chat with, and to grow around, and the kids, though they would balk at the idea, are equally great to be around. The thought no longer working with them is more than just sad; it's frightening, and in some cases, gut-wrenching. Overall, I try not to think about the "stuff" that I do (many a monkey could do most of it, just not with my style and finesse!); it's the faces, the smiles, the friendships that I keep seeing in my mind's eye.
On the flip side, in my new position, across the river, I'll be working with grown-ups, doing grown-up things and wearing grown-up clothes. And I know that without a doubt, I can still be my silly, goofball self, since that is exactly who they met in the interviews. I already enjoy the company of the team I'll be working with, having seen them "in action" one morning, and sharing emails and a couple of phone calls working out logistics. I'm excited about getting to know them while learning the details and intricacies of a three-inch training binder (an estimated six months to a year of training alone). Learning is one of the things that makes me thrive, and I am chomping at the bit to learn, learn, learn every day! I like being the resident expert, but it's just not a challenge. I like mountains, rocks, twists and turns. And it's a busy place! Sitting still, stagnating, is also very difficult for me. Gotta have something to do. When I think of all that, I get so excited and happy. Almost giddy. All this and a grown-up paycheck, to boot! Holy wow!
We've faced quite a bit of change in our family lately: a new school (and home!) for Jonathan, a new swim team for Guy and the boys, a new sport for Joseph, band and high school for Drew, a job for Henry, the list goes on and on, as these are just the biggies. Then there are the changes Guy and I have made in how we run the house, and how we relate to each other and the boys--all changes that were a long time coming, well thought out, and that have made a huge difference in our lives (WAY for the good, btw!). By the time we got to see Jonathan at Family Weekend this past weekend, I think I was pretty much changed out. I had prepared myself for the house without him, and had truly enjoyed his time home during fall break, but I had completely forgotten how quickly a place can become "home" and how strange it can be to share that with someone else; how glad I was, secretly, that Parents Weekend was over and I could get back to my life. Because I had allowed myself to overlook that (pertinent) little possibility of college life, when I saw it, I got slammed with all the other emotional stress I was able to completely put aside while we ate together, watched football, and at night visited and played cards with our friends while he had his own fun with his.
It bothered me, more than it should have, and more than I ordinarily would have let it, that sudden awareness that our visit was pretty much done. Probably I just hoped that the weekend would last longer so I wouldn't have to think about real-life things, like my resignation letter, the bus schedule, saying good bye, saying hello [Sometimes the fact that saying good bye means that there will be hellos is so stressful for me that I want to hide in a closet. I think that may have been a factor here.], moving along, moving forward, growing just a little bit more. I overreacted, which I knew immediately, so I was embarrassed about it, and tried to force myself not to cry. God only knows why; crying is one of those things I do, whether I want to or not, all. the. time. I think I tried to keep it in because, of all my boys, Jonathan is the only one who has ever told me that it makes him uncomfortable. The others just shake their heads at me, give me a quick hug, or, in Henry's case, out and out taunt me (makes me feel like one of the guys). Even though he wasn't in the car with us, looking back, I think that's part of it. At any rate, I was not being myself, which led, in a circuitous manner, and in conjunction with the other stuff shoved unceremoniously to the back of my mind, to a nasty flat tire on the road of relationship health, complete with tears, frustration, and a very late night.
A common occurrence? No, although not unheard of in our neck of the woods. Normal? Heck, yes. We are human, and living together in close quarters, with different pasts, combined with our shared life experiences, and a boatload of everything to think about! A lot of factors came together and made some fireworks. Show's over; move along.
So an invitation to lunch is another of the bittersweet....I love this friend with all my heart, but a job across the river will make the option of lunch together pretty tricky. Then again, I also know that the effort in making arrangements to purposefully spend time with someone dear to my heart makes life worthwhile. See you Thursday, sweetie!
My current position has been "home" for a year and a half, but prior to that, I worked in much the same capacity, in almost the same chair, for four years. That's a bunch of roots. I love what I do, and if it had been a full-time position, or even half again the hours I have, I would never leave. The faculty and staff are amazing to work with, to chat with, and to grow around, and the kids, though they would balk at the idea, are equally great to be around. The thought no longer working with them is more than just sad; it's frightening, and in some cases, gut-wrenching. Overall, I try not to think about the "stuff" that I do (many a monkey could do most of it, just not with my style and finesse!); it's the faces, the smiles, the friendships that I keep seeing in my mind's eye.
On the flip side, in my new position, across the river, I'll be working with grown-ups, doing grown-up things and wearing grown-up clothes. And I know that without a doubt, I can still be my silly, goofball self, since that is exactly who they met in the interviews. I already enjoy the company of the team I'll be working with, having seen them "in action" one morning, and sharing emails and a couple of phone calls working out logistics. I'm excited about getting to know them while learning the details and intricacies of a three-inch training binder (an estimated six months to a year of training alone). Learning is one of the things that makes me thrive, and I am chomping at the bit to learn, learn, learn every day! I like being the resident expert, but it's just not a challenge. I like mountains, rocks, twists and turns. And it's a busy place! Sitting still, stagnating, is also very difficult for me. Gotta have something to do. When I think of all that, I get so excited and happy. Almost giddy. All this and a grown-up paycheck, to boot! Holy wow!
We've faced quite a bit of change in our family lately: a new school (and home!) for Jonathan, a new swim team for Guy and the boys, a new sport for Joseph, band and high school for Drew, a job for Henry, the list goes on and on, as these are just the biggies. Then there are the changes Guy and I have made in how we run the house, and how we relate to each other and the boys--all changes that were a long time coming, well thought out, and that have made a huge difference in our lives (WAY for the good, btw!). By the time we got to see Jonathan at Family Weekend this past weekend, I think I was pretty much changed out. I had prepared myself for the house without him, and had truly enjoyed his time home during fall break, but I had completely forgotten how quickly a place can become "home" and how strange it can be to share that with someone else; how glad I was, secretly, that Parents Weekend was over and I could get back to my life. Because I had allowed myself to overlook that (pertinent) little possibility of college life, when I saw it, I got slammed with all the other emotional stress I was able to completely put aside while we ate together, watched football, and at night visited and played cards with our friends while he had his own fun with his.
It bothered me, more than it should have, and more than I ordinarily would have let it, that sudden awareness that our visit was pretty much done. Probably I just hoped that the weekend would last longer so I wouldn't have to think about real-life things, like my resignation letter, the bus schedule, saying good bye, saying hello [Sometimes the fact that saying good bye means that there will be hellos is so stressful for me that I want to hide in a closet. I think that may have been a factor here.], moving along, moving forward, growing just a little bit more. I overreacted, which I knew immediately, so I was embarrassed about it, and tried to force myself not to cry. God only knows why; crying is one of those things I do, whether I want to or not, all. the. time. I think I tried to keep it in because, of all my boys, Jonathan is the only one who has ever told me that it makes him uncomfortable. The others just shake their heads at me, give me a quick hug, or, in Henry's case, out and out taunt me (makes me feel like one of the guys). Even though he wasn't in the car with us, looking back, I think that's part of it. At any rate, I was not being myself, which led, in a circuitous manner, and in conjunction with the other stuff shoved unceremoniously to the back of my mind, to a nasty flat tire on the road of relationship health, complete with tears, frustration, and a very late night.
A common occurrence? No, although not unheard of in our neck of the woods. Normal? Heck, yes. We are human, and living together in close quarters, with different pasts, combined with our shared life experiences, and a boatload of everything to think about! A lot of factors came together and made some fireworks. Show's over; move along.
So an invitation to lunch is another of the bittersweet....I love this friend with all my heart, but a job across the river will make the option of lunch together pretty tricky. Then again, I also know that the effort in making arrangements to purposefully spend time with someone dear to my heart makes life worthwhile. See you Thursday, sweetie!
Monday, October 22, 2012
date night
A clear, crisp October evening. Absolutely beautiful. There are stars in the sky, and a half moon shining down. One of those rare, perfect night sky evenings, where the temperature and the sky, and even the day of the week have fallen into just the right alignment.
As I sit here, dinner eaten and cleaned up, coffee prepped for the morning, even the dogs calmed down, I am waiting (somewhat patiently!) for a Monday night hammock date with my husband. In the back of my mind, I know his favorite football team is not playing tonight, but I also know that has never stopped him from watching football before. So in my heart, I know that this unexpected, but much anticipated, cuddle time is just because.
Earlier in the day, I had emailed him that today, tomorrow, this week, is not quite a "normal" week for me. Today and tomorrow, I have "extras" on my calendar, and Wednesday is my first day without appointments, athletic department work, or meetings; just my usual work and Faith Matters. I know that he read in that email my need to connect--before I even realized that's what I was saying. I am truly blessed; sharing my life, my heart, my love with him.
It's not always been easy, and from time to time, the road has seemed downright impassable. But more than anything, I am grateful for the faith inside of me, the faith at the center of our souls, that helped us to muscle past the boulders in our way. We've come to a beautiful place--one of those spots where there would be a camera sign on the side of the highway--and the vista is incredible! I would not have appreciated the view nearly as much without the obstacles, and the hills and mountains we've had to climb to get here. All of it, though, was worth it, when this--today--is the outcome.
As I sit here, dinner eaten and cleaned up, coffee prepped for the morning, even the dogs calmed down, I am waiting (somewhat patiently!) for a Monday night hammock date with my husband. In the back of my mind, I know his favorite football team is not playing tonight, but I also know that has never stopped him from watching football before. So in my heart, I know that this unexpected, but much anticipated, cuddle time is just because.
Earlier in the day, I had emailed him that today, tomorrow, this week, is not quite a "normal" week for me. Today and tomorrow, I have "extras" on my calendar, and Wednesday is my first day without appointments, athletic department work, or meetings; just my usual work and Faith Matters. I know that he read in that email my need to connect--before I even realized that's what I was saying. I am truly blessed; sharing my life, my heart, my love with him.
It's not always been easy, and from time to time, the road has seemed downright impassable. But more than anything, I am grateful for the faith inside of me, the faith at the center of our souls, that helped us to muscle past the boulders in our way. We've come to a beautiful place--one of those spots where there would be a camera sign on the side of the highway--and the vista is incredible! I would not have appreciated the view nearly as much without the obstacles, and the hills and mountains we've had to climb to get here. All of it, though, was worth it, when this--today--is the outcome.
Sunday, October 7, 2012
take your mark
I have the best life these days. I love it! For the first time since I can remember, I went to a swim meet, and not only enjoyed it, but looked forward to it! Since we are with a new team, I was not anticipating having anyone to sit with, which, in and of itself, would have been a treat. (I have mentioned how much I enjoy being alone, even in groups and crowds.) I go to the meets to see my kids swim, not so much to socialize. All I need is a clear view of my progeny, a book and a bottle of water. I double lucked out, though, because my dear, sweet husband directed me to a dad from our new team, who not only introduced me to his wife and another set of parents, but none of them minded that I talked a little, and read a lot. (Interestingly, the book I was reading is Quiet : The power of introverts in a world that can't stop talking, by Susan Cain -- my new hero!) I got to see my Joseph swim, and I watched their kids swim, too, without the need to critique everything, or make comments on who looked like what. I got to go to the meet and be a mom AND be myself -- the best combination ever!!
As a bonus, I get to see my husband in action. He shines when he talks to the kids before and after their events. His love of the sport is evident in the way he interacts with his fellow coaches, especially the ones he now works with. For the first time, in a very long time, he looks like himself on deck, and I couldn't be more proud.
There's another side to my joyful anticipation today: I am not working at a pool. Summer meets for the past few years have been trying for me, as I still felt like I was at work, even though it was someone else's pool. In the wintertime, I didn't quite have the same feeling, but I did find myself keeping a close eye on how the meets were running, since we hosted a major meet at the pool where I worked this summer; I knew what I was doing, and how I envisioned the meet, but I kept looking for that one thing that goes wrong that could have been avoided "if only." For the first time, I did not need to worry about that meet (the next time that meet will happen at that pool will be in seven years. No way will I still be there then!)
So, for the first time in a long time, I was quite relaxed going to a swim meet. No duties, no responsibilities, no worries. And on the way home, we stopped for fro-yo, chatted, laughed and rehashed. Just like the "old days" before swimming got stressful -- the days when we first met. I'm glad our boys are getting to know that man: the man that I married.
As a bonus, I get to see my husband in action. He shines when he talks to the kids before and after their events. His love of the sport is evident in the way he interacts with his fellow coaches, especially the ones he now works with. For the first time, in a very long time, he looks like himself on deck, and I couldn't be more proud.
There's another side to my joyful anticipation today: I am not working at a pool. Summer meets for the past few years have been trying for me, as I still felt like I was at work, even though it was someone else's pool. In the wintertime, I didn't quite have the same feeling, but I did find myself keeping a close eye on how the meets were running, since we hosted a major meet at the pool where I worked this summer; I knew what I was doing, and how I envisioned the meet, but I kept looking for that one thing that goes wrong that could have been avoided "if only." For the first time, I did not need to worry about that meet (the next time that meet will happen at that pool will be in seven years. No way will I still be there then!)
So, for the first time in a long time, I was quite relaxed going to a swim meet. No duties, no responsibilities, no worries. And on the way home, we stopped for fro-yo, chatted, laughed and rehashed. Just like the "old days" before swimming got stressful -- the days when we first met. I'm glad our boys are getting to know that man: the man that I married.
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
re cal' cu lat ing
Sometimes the hardest decisions to make are the ones that at one time would have taken no thought. There's just something about walking a mile that makes all the difference. And the funny thing is, sometimes that mile feels like six, and sometimes walking it feels like just looking at the route on a map.
At one time, I made snap decisions, and liked the results, regardless of where they led. Of course, I was really just a kid then, and had fewer responsibilities. And really, only myself to worry about. Now, though, my children, my husband, even my friends sometimes, weigh on choices I make. Not that I ask around when it comes to big, important decisions; but still. These days, I prefer to not make decisions based on emotional responses. It might make me a little boring, but I prefer to be rational; to consider my past, present and future, my mental and physical health, my children's wants and needs, my relationship with my husband, and, to a slightly lesser extent, my friendships. (Because I have learned that while friends are necessary to sanity, they don't always follow the same route or like the scenery!)
Today, I made a decision that may have been life-changing, in that my reasons for it will require me to follow through with another change in direction. I asked for guidance, and two words came to mind, repeatedly. My only option is to go with them. I've already started the ball rolling, now to chase it down.
One mile at a time.
At one time, I made snap decisions, and liked the results, regardless of where they led. Of course, I was really just a kid then, and had fewer responsibilities. And really, only myself to worry about. Now, though, my children, my husband, even my friends sometimes, weigh on choices I make. Not that I ask around when it comes to big, important decisions; but still. These days, I prefer to not make decisions based on emotional responses. It might make me a little boring, but I prefer to be rational; to consider my past, present and future, my mental and physical health, my children's wants and needs, my relationship with my husband, and, to a slightly lesser extent, my friendships. (Because I have learned that while friends are necessary to sanity, they don't always follow the same route or like the scenery!)
Today, I made a decision that may have been life-changing, in that my reasons for it will require me to follow through with another change in direction. I asked for guidance, and two words came to mind, repeatedly. My only option is to go with them. I've already started the ball rolling, now to chase it down.
One mile at a time.
Sunday, September 16, 2012
me, and only me!
The question: What will you do with your evening alone in a hotel room?
The answer: Be me!!
The first thing I did after checking in, to be perfectly honest, was cry. Not the sobbing, core shaking kind; just the full eyes leaking down the cheeks kind. As I looked around the room, I realized that even if it were the Taj Mahal, it would still feel drab without the love of my life. I miss him, and it's only been three days.
In fact, I've never missed him this much--as a married woman. I sit here, with two other tabs open on my screen (Pinterest and Facebook, of course!! haha), and recall the first time I went away for the weekend without him. How long we'd been dating is irrelevant, and lost in the archives of my mind, but I clearly see the photo I took with me and I acutely feel the tight knot of feeling--a strong combination of love, sorrow, anticipation and joy--that my last thought each night, and my first each morning.
Tonight, I don't have a photo propped up by my pillow, but I do have plenty on my computer and on my phone. And each one makes me smile, remembering each event, each moment, each vacation and silly time a picture was taken, and the love projected, and protected, by our relationship. Tonight, I do feel the same knot. One difference: tonight I am wearing one of his undershirts as my nightshirt, and instead of having his high school ring sitting next to my keys, I have two rings from him on my left hand.
So how did I spend my evening alone in a hotel room? After I cried, just a little, I did a little yoga, booted up my computer, and called him. And I told him everything in my heart, along with the stories of our weekend. We laughed, we shared, and I felt better; more like myself. Then I watched The Blind Side, painted all twenty of my nails, and browsed Facebook and Pinterest. And threaded together some words, of course.
I'm bein' me. And it's all good now.
The answer: Be me!!
The first thing I did after checking in, to be perfectly honest, was cry. Not the sobbing, core shaking kind; just the full eyes leaking down the cheeks kind. As I looked around the room, I realized that even if it were the Taj Mahal, it would still feel drab without the love of my life. I miss him, and it's only been three days.
In fact, I've never missed him this much--as a married woman. I sit here, with two other tabs open on my screen (Pinterest and Facebook, of course!! haha), and recall the first time I went away for the weekend without him. How long we'd been dating is irrelevant, and lost in the archives of my mind, but I clearly see the photo I took with me and I acutely feel the tight knot of feeling--a strong combination of love, sorrow, anticipation and joy--that my last thought each night, and my first each morning.
Tonight, I don't have a photo propped up by my pillow, but I do have plenty on my computer and on my phone. And each one makes me smile, remembering each event, each moment, each vacation and silly time a picture was taken, and the love projected, and protected, by our relationship. Tonight, I do feel the same knot. One difference: tonight I am wearing one of his undershirts as my nightshirt, and instead of having his high school ring sitting next to my keys, I have two rings from him on my left hand.
So how did I spend my evening alone in a hotel room? After I cried, just a little, I did a little yoga, booted up my computer, and called him. And I told him everything in my heart, along with the stories of our weekend. We laughed, we shared, and I felt better; more like myself. Then I watched The Blind Side, painted all twenty of my nails, and browsed Facebook and Pinterest. And threaded together some words, of course.
I'm bein' me. And it's all good now.
Saturday, September 15, 2012
goin' to the chapel
When one spends 11 hours in the car on the highway, one sees many things, and some of those invariably serve as reminders of some past long forgotten. Yesterday, I had one such moment.....
Along the way, somewhere just past halfway to our destination, I spied a deserted church off the highway. It reminded me of a long ago dream of ours (mine?) to one day buy an old church and renovate it as our home. At the time, we lived in New England, where churches for sale would not have seemed all that unusual. Especially the size that would seem reasonable as a single family dwelling. We also did not yet have children, so the idea of renovating, refurbishing and remodelling did not feel overwhelmingly impossible! (Now, just trying to organize a time to purchase the paint for the balcony project--let alone pick out a color!-- takes a crazy amount of logistical madness!)
Seeing that church, though, with weeds growing up around it, and the driveway/parking lot breaking up with them, the excitement of the prospect flowered and bloomed again in my mind. For the next 50 miles or so, I mused about the little churches we had spied off the beaten track on the travels of our early days together. I remembered my sister-in-law saying that we always had the greatest creative ideas for everything. I wondered if I had ever shared that statement with my husband, and how he might have taken it.....
The loft bedroom in the choir loft; the two bedrooms off either side of what had once been the altar area; the open concept living room, dining room, fun area in the body of the church, where the main aisle and pews had been. It all came back.
And I wondered.....was it really such a far-fetched idea? I had completely forgotten about it, and the memory stirred something joyous in me. Do I see it as a calling? I don't know. Do I see it as a symbol of renewed faith? Again, I don't know. Honestly, I see it as a recollection of a dream. I see it as another rebirth of the joys of our life. Another symbol of the strong foundation we have built together paying off when the storms come. Most of all, I see it as a reminder to smile joyfully as I look both backward and forward on who I am, what we have together, and where we are headed--literally and figuratively.
Along the way, somewhere just past halfway to our destination, I spied a deserted church off the highway. It reminded me of a long ago dream of ours (mine?) to one day buy an old church and renovate it as our home. At the time, we lived in New England, where churches for sale would not have seemed all that unusual. Especially the size that would seem reasonable as a single family dwelling. We also did not yet have children, so the idea of renovating, refurbishing and remodelling did not feel overwhelmingly impossible! (Now, just trying to organize a time to purchase the paint for the balcony project--let alone pick out a color!-- takes a crazy amount of logistical madness!)
Seeing that church, though, with weeds growing up around it, and the driveway/parking lot breaking up with them, the excitement of the prospect flowered and bloomed again in my mind. For the next 50 miles or so, I mused about the little churches we had spied off the beaten track on the travels of our early days together. I remembered my sister-in-law saying that we always had the greatest creative ideas for everything. I wondered if I had ever shared that statement with my husband, and how he might have taken it.....
The loft bedroom in the choir loft; the two bedrooms off either side of what had once been the altar area; the open concept living room, dining room, fun area in the body of the church, where the main aisle and pews had been. It all came back.
And I wondered.....was it really such a far-fetched idea? I had completely forgotten about it, and the memory stirred something joyous in me. Do I see it as a calling? I don't know. Do I see it as a symbol of renewed faith? Again, I don't know. Honestly, I see it as a recollection of a dream. I see it as another rebirth of the joys of our life. Another symbol of the strong foundation we have built together paying off when the storms come. Most of all, I see it as a reminder to smile joyfully as I look both backward and forward on who I am, what we have together, and where we are headed--literally and figuratively.
Saturday, September 8, 2012
molehills and mountains
This morning, as on so many other "easy mornings" -- the occasions few and far between when we have no specific reason or time to wake -- for so many years, I woke before my husband, and got to watch him sleep. Of the many things that marriage "is," I think observing him in his sleep is one of my favorites. The peacefulness, the hint of a smile, the hint of a young boy in his face all intrigue me. Usually, I can only resist a light kiss on his nose, his forehead or his hand for fifteen minutes or so. Many times, I get up then and sew, write, make coffee and breakfast. Today, though, I grabbed my book and read.
I suppose it's just the turning of the pages that draws him out of his slumber; I don't know exactly. Before long this morning -- just four or six pages -- I heard him say, "I just don't know how you do it. I am still so very tired. I'm exhausted." Not wanting to make noise, in case he wanted to sleep some more (his eyes were not even opened yet), I smiled in response. Our son needed to get to band camp, and had asked that I get him up in time, which is why I had not snuggled back in again when I awoke. We had walked to the high school football game last night, stopped at our friends' house on the way home to visit, and, after walking home, discovered our youngest son was still up, and, since our second son was in transit from the game and post-game activities, we had a couple of texts to wait for. By the time we got to sleep, it was sometime around 1am. Today was a good day for an easy morning!
Tomorrow we can have one more -- the last for a while. Saturday morning practices, meets and competitions begin next week, along with a trip for me. The next easy morning we can foresee will be around Thanksgiving. For many years, I've dreaded the loss of this special time together for the long season our family's preferred sport covers. For the first time since we've had children, I'm not looking at the change as being "bad," per se. Rather, I find myself looking forward to the holiday breaks, of course, but more to the renewed day to day interactions and making the most of each bit of time we do get to share. Easy mornings are no longer the only times I see as "our time" together. We have time -- we make time -- far more easily than ever before. Next week, it will take more creative thinking, that's for sure! But, for the first time in a very, very long time (read: a decade, maybe??) the challenge seems smaller; a molehill rather than a mountain.
Our easy mornings now melt into our easy days. For that, I am eternally grateful, and say so as much as possible. Love is beautiful (and patient and kind, and doesn't judge and all that good stuff, too!)
I suppose it's just the turning of the pages that draws him out of his slumber; I don't know exactly. Before long this morning -- just four or six pages -- I heard him say, "I just don't know how you do it. I am still so very tired. I'm exhausted." Not wanting to make noise, in case he wanted to sleep some more (his eyes were not even opened yet), I smiled in response. Our son needed to get to band camp, and had asked that I get him up in time, which is why I had not snuggled back in again when I awoke. We had walked to the high school football game last night, stopped at our friends' house on the way home to visit, and, after walking home, discovered our youngest son was still up, and, since our second son was in transit from the game and post-game activities, we had a couple of texts to wait for. By the time we got to sleep, it was sometime around 1am. Today was a good day for an easy morning!
Tomorrow we can have one more -- the last for a while. Saturday morning practices, meets and competitions begin next week, along with a trip for me. The next easy morning we can foresee will be around Thanksgiving. For many years, I've dreaded the loss of this special time together for the long season our family's preferred sport covers. For the first time since we've had children, I'm not looking at the change as being "bad," per se. Rather, I find myself looking forward to the holiday breaks, of course, but more to the renewed day to day interactions and making the most of each bit of time we do get to share. Easy mornings are no longer the only times I see as "our time" together. We have time -- we make time -- far more easily than ever before. Next week, it will take more creative thinking, that's for sure! But, for the first time in a very, very long time (read: a decade, maybe??) the challenge seems smaller; a molehill rather than a mountain.
Our easy mornings now melt into our easy days. For that, I am eternally grateful, and say so as much as possible. Love is beautiful (and patient and kind, and doesn't judge and all that good stuff, too!)
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
insignificant distractions
We all have them. Those things that take our attention away from where it should be focused, and sometimes keep us confounded despite our best intentions. Some distractions are quite profound: blowing bubbles or jumping in a puddle with a toddler; stopping to pick dandelions on a spring day; getting stuck under an awning with a stranger in a sudden downpour. These distractions often serve to make us think of what we have been missing in our often hectic day-to-day. Frequently, we promise ourselves we will make more time for that toddler, on spring days, to allow our day to be brightened by a friendly word. These distractions are significant--much more significant than we give them credit to be. They remind us, at a very deep level, who we are, who we mean one day to be, who we admire.
Other distractions may get more attention because they seem more flashy, more showy, more exciting to talk about--or hide. While they may last longer -- less than half a year, or even almost 15 years or more -- they are not significant. Why? If a distraction can last that long, wouldn't it be quite significant? No; not if they are only serving to remind you of who you are not. Once the distraction is shaken, each day without it becomes more beautiful, clearer, and more crisp. Each day without the distraction becomes hopeful, promising, REAL. Life in general is better. Insignificant distractions may make a temporary impact on the being, but ultimately, every insignificant distraction proves the honesty and intensity of a soul bound for better things.
In The five people you meet in Heaven, Mitch Albom wrote, "In order to move on, you must understand why you felt what you did and why you no longer need to feel it." This applies to insignificant distractions, which are sometimes hard to explain, but, in the end, can be seen objectively as teaching moments; moments that may have lasted longer than a simple kiss, but mean far, far less, because they had no depth. Insignificant distractions, even when long-lasting, are superficial, at best; meeting only our most ignoble needs.
Moving forward from significant distractions--babies, babbling brooks, a clear and star-filled sky--the kind that show you the power of God and His love--is somehow much easier to understand and learn from; and, therefore, we are able to walk away feeling empowered, blessed, and somehow 'more.' They carry depth; they reach into our very core.
Happily ever after is real. It just requires copious amounts of hard work. Insignificant distractions cannot dismantle a strong foundation. In fact, insignificant distractions rather fortify the edifice. Oh, yes, focus can be lost, but when we realize our mistakes, we can prove to ourselves just how powerful our true selves can be.
Other distractions may get more attention because they seem more flashy, more showy, more exciting to talk about--or hide. While they may last longer -- less than half a year, or even almost 15 years or more -- they are not significant. Why? If a distraction can last that long, wouldn't it be quite significant? No; not if they are only serving to remind you of who you are not. Once the distraction is shaken, each day without it becomes more beautiful, clearer, and more crisp. Each day without the distraction becomes hopeful, promising, REAL. Life in general is better. Insignificant distractions may make a temporary impact on the being, but ultimately, every insignificant distraction proves the honesty and intensity of a soul bound for better things.
In The five people you meet in Heaven, Mitch Albom wrote, "In order to move on, you must understand why you felt what you did and why you no longer need to feel it." This applies to insignificant distractions, which are sometimes hard to explain, but, in the end, can be seen objectively as teaching moments; moments that may have lasted longer than a simple kiss, but mean far, far less, because they had no depth. Insignificant distractions, even when long-lasting, are superficial, at best; meeting only our most ignoble needs.
Moving forward from significant distractions--babies, babbling brooks, a clear and star-filled sky--the kind that show you the power of God and His love--is somehow much easier to understand and learn from; and, therefore, we are able to walk away feeling empowered, blessed, and somehow 'more.' They carry depth; they reach into our very core.
Happily ever after is real. It just requires copious amounts of hard work. Insignificant distractions cannot dismantle a strong foundation. In fact, insignificant distractions rather fortify the edifice. Oh, yes, focus can be lost, but when we realize our mistakes, we can prove to ourselves just how powerful our true selves can be.
Monday, August 27, 2012
fears: pt 1
I've had a couple of people tell me somewhat recently that what they are most afraid of is being alone. While I try to be sympathetic, I simply do not share this fear at all. I don't remember ever having this particular fear--I've always been perfectly happy to be on my own; a trait that seems to make other people crazy from time to time. Interestingly, most of these same people are those who do not enjoy my company. I've often wondered why it matters to them that I would rather sit by myself and read a book than make small talk about nothing in particular.
There have been some who have tried to call me "anti-social," but it's not that at all. I just prefer to get to know people on my own terms. Observation and intuition are my tools, and have not lead me astray often. Many times, I have told my husband or my kids, "Watch out for that one....." Not once have I been wrong when I've made that warning. Occasionally, I have been fooled by "the sociopath next door," but in that, few of us are alone. Really, if I want to get to know you, I will, but most likely it'll be because you don't bug me.
Some situations make it especially difficult for me to want to be chatty and social. My husband is a rather public figure, and as such, people tend to think they know him when they only know one side of him. When they see me, they frequently have made assumptions about what I must be like, and the fact that I generally defy those expectations doesn't really sit well. For the most part, when I consider my good friends, I see that they are the type that don't postulate in advance; rather, they take in what they see, and piece others together based upon that substance. My friends are people I admire for that practice.
Back to being alone.....
Rather than fear the silence around me or within my being, I relish it! When I am alone in my home or car, I blast the music, sing along, and dance when I can. I realize that what people fear is the greater Alone. The one that we can capitalize because it means "with no one," and uses the greater "with." For that, I take my cue from my Gramma Katie. She was a widow for as long as my siblings and I knew her. She never missed anything! She went places, listened to Paul Harvey (and debated with him in her kitchen!), made me promise when I left for college never to get old. She invited herself to the weddings and funerals held at the church a few blocks from her home--she didn't know anyone, but she had a wonderful time witnessing the joy, and managed to soothe herself sharing in the sorrow. Once I asked her why she never had a boyfriend or got married after Grampa Henry died. She told me there were two reasons: "I never needed to; never felt like I was alone. And besides, when I told him that if anything ever happened to me, I thought he should remarry, he said, 'Thanks,' and never told me the same!" She believed in ghosts, you see...
Not only have I tried to live up to my promise, I have also made sure that I am a person I like to be around. If there comes a time when I find myself alone, I am confident that I will not feel Alone. I have fantastic friends (and plenty of them!) to help me through whatever sorrow may come my way, but I would be fine on my own. And, as I learned from Gramma Katie, I have also 'given permission' to my husband, should he need to thwart the feared Alone, to move forward and find someone else. [He assures me of statistics, which appeal to my logical mind! haha]
There have been some who have tried to call me "anti-social," but it's not that at all. I just prefer to get to know people on my own terms. Observation and intuition are my tools, and have not lead me astray often. Many times, I have told my husband or my kids, "Watch out for that one....." Not once have I been wrong when I've made that warning. Occasionally, I have been fooled by "the sociopath next door," but in that, few of us are alone. Really, if I want to get to know you, I will, but most likely it'll be because you don't bug me.
Some situations make it especially difficult for me to want to be chatty and social. My husband is a rather public figure, and as such, people tend to think they know him when they only know one side of him. When they see me, they frequently have made assumptions about what I must be like, and the fact that I generally defy those expectations doesn't really sit well. For the most part, when I consider my good friends, I see that they are the type that don't postulate in advance; rather, they take in what they see, and piece others together based upon that substance. My friends are people I admire for that practice.
Back to being alone.....
Rather than fear the silence around me or within my being, I relish it! When I am alone in my home or car, I blast the music, sing along, and dance when I can. I realize that what people fear is the greater Alone. The one that we can capitalize because it means "with no one," and uses the greater "with." For that, I take my cue from my Gramma Katie. She was a widow for as long as my siblings and I knew her. She never missed anything! She went places, listened to Paul Harvey (and debated with him in her kitchen!), made me promise when I left for college never to get old. She invited herself to the weddings and funerals held at the church a few blocks from her home--she didn't know anyone, but she had a wonderful time witnessing the joy, and managed to soothe herself sharing in the sorrow. Once I asked her why she never had a boyfriend or got married after Grampa Henry died. She told me there were two reasons: "I never needed to; never felt like I was alone. And besides, when I told him that if anything ever happened to me, I thought he should remarry, he said, 'Thanks,' and never told me the same!" She believed in ghosts, you see...
Not only have I tried to live up to my promise, I have also made sure that I am a person I like to be around. If there comes a time when I find myself alone, I am confident that I will not feel Alone. I have fantastic friends (and plenty of them!) to help me through whatever sorrow may come my way, but I would be fine on my own. And, as I learned from Gramma Katie, I have also 'given permission' to my husband, should he need to thwart the feared Alone, to move forward and find someone else. [He assures me of statistics, which appeal to my logical mind! haha]
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
dare: the truth
Affirmation of honesty and truth. The real kind, that makes you realize just how lucky you are to have someone in your life--yet again! That's what I've had every day lately. The kind that makes you want to chest bump, high five--no high TEN! The kind that makes you feel like the women's beach volleyball teams when they scored (or the Australians whenever they finished a volley!) and makes you want to sing from a rooftop.
Yes, yesterday was the best day yet, finishing off even better than it started, and today has been that much sweeter. Feeling sappy, am I? Why, yes, I am, and I won't ever apologize for it! I've been literally handed proof that my husband is my rock, my love, my joy. My life is rich for the sweet honesty we share, and the example we can set for our children.
Would I trade any of my experiences? Not a chance--anymore! Each one has made me, molded me, formed me, into the strong, healthy and happy woman I am. And each one has been mortar for the stepping stones of my future.
Is honesty easy? No way. Is it worth the difficulty? Absolutely! Am I more in love today than I was yesterday, last week, last year? Oh, I am, and I wouldn't have it any other way. I've added a new prayer to my growing list: a prayer of deep thanksgiving for the life we have together, and for how it can withstand life's storms.
Yes, yesterday was the best day yet, finishing off even better than it started, and today has been that much sweeter. Feeling sappy, am I? Why, yes, I am, and I won't ever apologize for it! I've been literally handed proof that my husband is my rock, my love, my joy. My life is rich for the sweet honesty we share, and the example we can set for our children.
Would I trade any of my experiences? Not a chance--anymore! Each one has made me, molded me, formed me, into the strong, healthy and happy woman I am. And each one has been mortar for the stepping stones of my future.
Is honesty easy? No way. Is it worth the difficulty? Absolutely! Am I more in love today than I was yesterday, last week, last year? Oh, I am, and I wouldn't have it any other way. I've added a new prayer to my growing list: a prayer of deep thanksgiving for the life we have together, and for how it can withstand life's storms.
Friday, August 10, 2012
seeds to flowers
Walking in the rain is my favorite. Not the gushing downpours usually associated with my working outside in the summer, but the gentle, soft and cool rain that comes as a surprise because you couldn't hear it from inside the house. The kind that makes you say, "Oh! It's raining!" and you go out anyway.
At times, like today, the rain is especially welcome. Rain, clearly, has a cleansing quality--washing last night's humidity out of the air, and leaving instead that wonderful rain smell that sustains (many of) us until the next rain. Rain also has a cleansing quality for the soul, and as we walked today, we spoke of some of the more difficult aspects of our youngest days. Somehow, sharing the things that can hurt the most are easier in the rain, less drastic, and ever-so-less painful.
Why is that? Why does rain make me feel more open to hear, more open to tell? Perhaps it's the feeling that the heavens or the cosmos is involved somehow. Or that God has opened up a little, so we feel less alone. Maybe it's the tenebrosity, the lack of light, that makes us feel a little safer, a little more open. A little more loved. It may even be the wetness of the rain itself, enhancing a fluidity in our feelings and emotions. Water seeks its own level, and fluidity in one's soul would clearly move to a more level spot....
And yet, the things we talked about bubbled up from the depths. The overflowed through what felt like the smallest of cracks in a carefully constructed barrier. Things that should have sounded awful, but, with the help of the rain, were diluted enough to be tolerable; not likable, but bearable. Raindrops mixed with tears, and slid away; softly, easily, nearly without notice.
When my father died, it snowed. Like crazy. Like over three feet crazy. By the time we got home, everything had iced over, and we had a heck of a mess to clean up, just to get in our driveway. It was late, it was dark, and we were so very tired. Bone tired from sorrow, driving, and plain old exhaustion. I remember that moving that snow and ice was so symbolic for me. It wasn't rain; it wasn't soft, or gentle, cleansing or pure. It was hard and cold, with sharp edges and so much weight--just like my very core, my heart, my being. I screamed at the snow; threw great big boulders of icy whiteness into the yard with all my might. It helped, but not nearly as much as running water.
Today's rain is gentle and light--not a shower, but slightly more than a sprinkle. And, in the early morning hours of our walk, was just what we needed. Just what I needed. My pains and hurts are no greater than anyone else's, but they are my burden, and mine alone until I share them. The fact that others -- someone, somewhere -- is worse off than I am sometimes discourages me from sharing and lightening my load. Walking in the rain, with someone who wants to hear, equalizes the pressure, and only then can I grow.
Only then can I grow.
At times, like today, the rain is especially welcome. Rain, clearly, has a cleansing quality--washing last night's humidity out of the air, and leaving instead that wonderful rain smell that sustains (many of) us until the next rain. Rain also has a cleansing quality for the soul, and as we walked today, we spoke of some of the more difficult aspects of our youngest days. Somehow, sharing the things that can hurt the most are easier in the rain, less drastic, and ever-so-less painful.
Why is that? Why does rain make me feel more open to hear, more open to tell? Perhaps it's the feeling that the heavens or the cosmos is involved somehow. Or that God has opened up a little, so we feel less alone. Maybe it's the tenebrosity, the lack of light, that makes us feel a little safer, a little more open. A little more loved. It may even be the wetness of the rain itself, enhancing a fluidity in our feelings and emotions. Water seeks its own level, and fluidity in one's soul would clearly move to a more level spot....
And yet, the things we talked about bubbled up from the depths. The overflowed through what felt like the smallest of cracks in a carefully constructed barrier. Things that should have sounded awful, but, with the help of the rain, were diluted enough to be tolerable; not likable, but bearable. Raindrops mixed with tears, and slid away; softly, easily, nearly without notice.
When my father died, it snowed. Like crazy. Like over three feet crazy. By the time we got home, everything had iced over, and we had a heck of a mess to clean up, just to get in our driveway. It was late, it was dark, and we were so very tired. Bone tired from sorrow, driving, and plain old exhaustion. I remember that moving that snow and ice was so symbolic for me. It wasn't rain; it wasn't soft, or gentle, cleansing or pure. It was hard and cold, with sharp edges and so much weight--just like my very core, my heart, my being. I screamed at the snow; threw great big boulders of icy whiteness into the yard with all my might. It helped, but not nearly as much as running water.
Today's rain is gentle and light--not a shower, but slightly more than a sprinkle. And, in the early morning hours of our walk, was just what we needed. Just what I needed. My pains and hurts are no greater than anyone else's, but they are my burden, and mine alone until I share them. The fact that others -- someone, somewhere -- is worse off than I am sometimes discourages me from sharing and lightening my load. Walking in the rain, with someone who wants to hear, equalizes the pressure, and only then can I grow.
Only then can I grow.
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