Same November

Saturdays are my new favorite day.  It's one of the only times during the week that can be dedicated to some time for just me.  Today I spent most of the day doing nothing in particular.  Some laundry.  Some cooking. Birthday party running. And nothing.  It feels like I wasted time but it also feels like I didn't have enough of nothing. 

I'm not sure how I reached another November and I'm in almost exactly the same place as I was last year.  I'm the same tired.  I'm the same stressed.  I'm the same teary eyed.  I'm the same unhappy. I thought I would be in such a different place when I looked ahead in time.  It's disappointing to find its the same.  

I think I must be doing something wrong to always find myself in a repeated pattern of stress.  Is anyone else in this boat?  Am I the only one who seems to be on cycle repeat? Each day is another day to check items off and sometimes that feels like accomplishment -  yippee - moreover it feels like a merry-go-round that I cannot get off. 

Did you ever ride a merry-go-round? It was the hottest recess ticket at Clinton Elementary.  You better believe I handled the start-up of that like a boss, skirts and pigtails flying.  I would hop on at the last possible moment that my feet could not keep up, and I was barely hanging on.  I would lay there, close my eyes, and breathe, then look at my best friend and start giggling.  

As an adult it doesn't feel nearly as exciting.  It feels overwhelming.  The barely hanging on feels like failure.  How can I be in the same place?  Is God repeatedly giving me the same lesson or am I an idiot who keeps walking in the same circle or is this what the whole world is doing? Are we all just riding a merry-go-round of chaos?  

I'm discouraged and disheartened.  I'm guessing and hoping this season will be shorter lived.  But maybe it's just the way of living and raising teenagers in today's world.  Maybe it's chaos for everyone.  

Maybe the key is finding and holding onto the friends who will hang on with you.  Who will giggle and cry and offer french vanilla coffee and a warm hug.  

Reach out to your friends tonight.  Maybe they too are having the same November.  Maybe a word from you is just what they need to close their eyes and breathe. 

To Those Who Suffer

How many times have you been able to share your story?  We all have a story, dear readers, we all have bits and pieces, or slices of life that often lay buried deep within sad and aching hearts. Somewhere we learn to be quiet and I just haven't quite figured out where that is, and perhaps it varies by the person.  I have seen it so often, though, hurting people with deeply buried grief. Somewhere on our journey it was found best to stem the tide of emotion, so individually we suffer in silence until the very moment we are unable to hold back. And in our then expressed pain, we often hurt others.  

We are well into the crisp season of the year that rapidly ends in decay.  It truly is my favorite season but I don't like pumpkin anything, except pie and candles.  Ryan likes to tell me that I don't quite fit the mold because "You like leggings, boots, and coffee."  Agreed. But pumpkin coffee, latte, tea, muffins, cookies are not my thing.  All too soon the cold bitter winds will blow across open fields and between city skyscrapers and bring swirling droplets of frozen precipitation to blanket the damp, dead ground.  It is the perfect time for you and I to pull up a chair with our steaming mugs of brewed tea and have a heart to heart.  Fall and Winter are perfect for stories.  You will find that in the sharing of stories, deep relationships are formed and healing can truly begin. 

Would you not agree that there is a lot of anger and pain in our world.  Can you see it?  Can you feel it?  Often the anger is kindled so quickly as if one match was lit and the whole field suddenly caught fire.  Still further you find individuals jump on bandwagons without discretion or full disclosure of the situation at hand.  "Oh my! Yep, that sounds really terrible so I too, will be angry about that and re-post and re-sensationalize." Humans naturally react from our gut rather than our head. Initially.  It takes anywhere from sixty seconds to forty-six hours for us to process with logic versus gut. Give or take. You catch my drift. It is into this type of worldview and approach that I speak.

Dear friend, as we sit in the warm glow of candlelight - and for kicks let's just say it is pumpkin scented - as we sit and sip our peppermint tea, can I look you straight in the eye and share from my heart?

I find some distaste in the current mood and setting that I see perpetuated as it relates to women, "me too," and movements that further evolve from this. What I see is a lot of anger.  A lot of pain.  And perhaps a lot more affected by these types of abuse than we ever realized.  What I also see is while we "want to bring awareness" and "stop cycles of abuse," we are dangerously close to losing our ability to be rational as a whole.  I see a mob of hurting people screaming a message that aims not so much at healing as retribution.  Angry people often want the latter rather than the former, but it is the former that will bring the most relief.  Please do not misunderstand me to imply that I believe this type of behavior should continue because that would be far from the truth. I do understand some of the agenda is to create some change.  My desire here is to speak into the hearts of those who suffer. To sidestep the loud, angry outbursts and accusations and speak directly to....the heart.

People in immense pain, when focused on that pain and when that pain is allowed to rule, are not rational.  As a victim myself I can share that no one is in more personal pain than a survivor of any type of sexual abuse.  It creates big, gaping holes in your soul.  It steals your dignity.  Your pride. Your joy.  Your safety.  Your comfort. Once encountered, the path you will now traverse is different than the one you would have otherwise been on.  It covers your whole life in shame and unimaginable anger that is forcefully fueled by an overwhelming sense of injustice. 

I look at "me too" and see lots of hurting people that fit this description.  I look around me in the everyday crowd and see people that fit this description.  It breaks my heart. Because I know what it is to be you.  I know what it is to feel all of these things.  If you read my blog post "We Hide Pain," I talk about how we keep pain close to the chest.  We keep it in the dark where no one can look at us like we are suffering or we are different.  Can I say, dear friends, as we sit here in the darkening of evening, with our tea almost gone and the leaves swirling in air, can I suggest that you share your story?  Whatever situation or story it is that brings you deep, deep pain.  At least twice, maybe three times, try to share your story with all its painful details.  Not an overview.  Not the highlights.  Those deep, gut wrenching details that you play over and over again when it's 2am and you should be sleeping. Those things that haunt you in the night, bring them into the day where they can hold no sway.  The smells, the sounds.  Paint the picture that I know you remember.  It is in the sharing that you will begin to release pain, I promise you.  You don't need to stand up with a mob of people, but if you must, make sure it is for the right reasons.  You can choose - and I more strongly encourage this - to sit in quiet dignity over a cup of tea with a friend and start to un-bury some grief.  I think in time you will be glad that you did. You will find more long term relief and satisfaction in healing than in retribution or revenge. You will start to let go of that anger to opt for the peace of being understood, free, and loved right where you are.  Letting go of the anger will likely be the most difficult part, for it is what fuels your drive and will to survive and overcome.  The way you will tightly hold onto anger and hate like a warm blanket is almost innate and beyond your ability to control.  In the end you will find that perhaps you'd rather not let that go, because when you do, that one last thing you have will be gone. Everything will have been taken from you and you will be empty.  But that emptiness that you will feel...   It can be filled again.  With good and better things. 

I am by no means licensed for therapy or anything related, but I know where I once was and where I am today are two entirely different places.  This journey of life is meant to be shared, and by so doing, we are able to continue to walk.  If we walked alone we would at times like this find we are unable to continue. I decided awhile ago that I am in this life to be as authentic as I can be, and in so doing do my best to point toward Jesus who alone can heal all the wounds in our soul. There would have been a point in my life that to share or hint at any of this would have come at great personal cost, but today it actually doesn't really cost me much. In sharing with others, in helping others who suffer the same, I have found great peace.

If you do happen to read the other post I referenced, you will also note it is about labels. I have had many, many labels in this lifetime.  Some have been extremely painful and deeply scarring, "Negligent Parent" and "Survivor" are among the worst.

But only God's label for me (and you) is all that lives through eternity - loved, worthy, forgiven and free. 



Word of Caution:

Please carefully note the heart in which this was written.  It is written for the concern and well being of others and not myself, therefore please be sure that your comments are appropriate for the subject matter.  Please refrain from asking or commenting about welfare or sympathy, noting again, the intention of the post.

Rain Filled Thoughts

As I sloshed through puddles, dodging raindrops, and making a beeline for the elementary school door, my right shoe filled up with water.  The sole has separated and it's certainly a sign of things to come. 

I wanted so much to squeeze my newly eleven-year old son when I saw him enter the school office this morning.  I wanted to hold him close remembering this day eleven years ago that was filled with so much anxiety and loneliness.  With the balance of life and death ever present but often forgotten this day reminds me that I was gifted.  As I lay lonely, shaking and bleeding, my son was gasping for air somewhere in the hospital with his dad.  As I look at my adolescent son today, I see that small peanut, with the tiniest tookus, struggling. I hear his breath sounds and it's not good.  My arms feel empty because he is not in them.  Not then.  Not today.  Today, I must respect his independence as a young man. 

Tomorrow my eldest son will become a teenager.  Thirteen years have passed since I spent several hours trying to give him life.  Thirteen years since that squalling baby was placed on my belly and I stared into his red, screaming face and thought, "I'm going to remember this moment forever so what should I be thinking and feeling right now?"  And that is exactly what I remember.  Me laying there trying to decide and make sure that I was thinking and feeling the way that is expected of me.   Am I doing it right?  Will I do it right?   His smile has always been magnetic and it remains.  We definitely have eye rolls moving into the neighborhood but something tells me we're going to make it.

I've been wading through water since this morning.  The rain has increased in intensity and my feet are wet and freezing.  I'm bemoaning that I can't seem to throw away my favorite coats and shoes until it's really past the time.  What my problem is I can't say.  Attachment issues?  Abandonment?  Separation anxiety?  Perhaps so.  I was not born to be lonely and without what I love. 

Sometimes the sacrifices we make to keep people and things together are just that.  Sometimes we wade through puddles and dodge the raindrops of this life and its moments and we feel cold, empty, sad, heart-broken, unfulfilled. 

When I look into two pairs of deep blue eyes.  When I see that magnetic smile and that GQ hair.  When I want to squeeze my kids but refrain.  I know that the labor all those years ago and since has been a sacrificial labor of love.  I'm up for the task.  The years I have left ahead are but few and I will gladly shelve anything else to enjoy these final seasons with son one and son two. 

Finding the Joy of Choosing

Friends.  I had to pull out my old lady glasses today.  I find that when my eyes are so tired I am unable to focus without them.  I also see upon closer inspection a lot of grey hairs in there.  What you can't see is my death grip on a sippy cup of sweet tea.  I don't get excited about wine.  I don't need wine.  I have needs for coffee and sweet tea.  Especially when it's time to share my heart...

If you have been following along on social media or even through this blog, you will know that I am in a period of transition coupled with intense exhaustion.  But, what has been so interesting to me is that I feel I am more organized than ever.  I'm not quite sure how that can be exactly since we are all going in various directions.  For maybe the first time ever, I am trying to ensure that all the members of my family eat a good breakfast before they head out the door.  I think it has really helped my kids because left up to their own devices they might not eat very much.  Naturally, I run out of time to eat myself because I couldn't get up soon enough for all that.  I am not home 3/4 of the main weeknight meals so that is specifically scheduled and laid out for the family to prepare.  I will take a moment to be honest to share that if there was not an option for "curbside grocery pick-up" all bets would be off here.  It really saves me time. 

When I hit these busy cycles in my life what frustrates me most is how easily I make the decison to let go of the things that make me happy. If I have to choose between making waffles and writing, well, it's going to be waffles. I'm always going to choose somebody or something else rather than myself. 

This phase has been wonderfully refreshing even though it has been an expenditure of emotion, thought, effort.  I am finding the joy of choosing.  Let me say that again.  I am finding the joy of choosing.  Do you know what it is to choose?  To not just make a decision that is a natural flow of being in a role, such as wife, mother, employee.  To reflect and freely make a choice.  To go against the grain of obligation.  I make decisions all the time, multiple times per day.  But I rarely choose.

I am finding the strength to choose: me. 

I am finding that God is providing.  He is providing so many options and people to meet me here.  Wise people with wonderful, encouraging words. People that I have just met are loving me in real, tangible ways.  Options are pouring in for things that are suited for what I enjoy.  I could never have imagined such a flood.  I have been so very loved and embraced during this phase.

God pours out, friends. In every season.  He pours out because He loves us so.  I remain ever so grateful for the journey and for a Saviour that gives me more than I deserve.   

Reflective Rest

This weekend has been scheduled for emptying the heart. I intend to do a lot of writing.

Today, I have been able to rest after a very busy few weeks.  Last weekend I was able to be lead a committee to host our church picnic. It was so much work.  It really was.  12 hours before it was scheduled to start I had decided I definitely took on too much.  Because.  When I take on such a task, my family is automatically required to give as much as myself.  My husband and sons worked so very hard alongside me Saturday and Sunday, and this was not something to which they had committed.  Exhausted as I was, as much sweat as was pouring my back, I really was having so much fun.  Welcoming people.  Serving them food. Working to ensure they had a wonderful time.  I simply can't express how much joy I receive in those types of moments.  When we collapsed on the couch at 8pm on Sunday, after serving well over 200 people, I did suggest to my sweet family I would not take this task on next year.  I think they are equally hopeful and disbelieving.

Today is beautifully scheduled with candles, music, laundry, bleach, brooms, breeze, movies and blankets.

The weeks have been busy and emotional.  I feel as though I have met the demands fairly well as every day is one long checklist of items and I have marked most of them off.  I am so proud of how my children have settled into the routine of school this year.  It has been one of our easiest and best years yet.  I was quite happy and then realized it was just one more sign that my kids are getting older.   You really are not considered young when you have kids in middle school, high school, college.  I have definitely crossed over so now with my pride comes a little downer. Hum, I thought today as I heard a child of no more than two or three years old tell her mother she peed her pants.  The mother was exasperated of course. I wanted so much to tell her what she probably already knows but can't see in the moment.  One day you trade physical needs for hormonal/maturity ones and then one day more trade hormonal/maturity ones for car keys and apartments.

I feel wonderful in the moments of doing life.  I find so much joy in serving others. Being busy is fulfilling.  But in the quiet moments, such as today, I began to mourn the passing of time.  How is it we are back to jackets and bonfires?  How is another wedding anniversary and kids' birthday season upon us?  How is it?

My son will be a teenager in a couple weeks.  Which means the days of asking for the car keys are not that far in the future.  Which means I am safely in the "suburban mom" category and would not possibly be assigned to any other one.  I'm deep in the fall of life configuring menus, cellos, and schedules.  I'm deeply satisfied with this category for in this arena I am needed and loved.  Time moves ever so swiftly; grey hairs continue to come; wisdom through trials is gained; and my heart grows gentler and softer.  

My heart wants to hold onto moments as the weeks fly by.  I've been trying to connect with friends, but, indeed, everyone else is also in busy seasons.  I raise my cup of tea to you this day, dear readers and friends.  Gentle are the tears that water the places in my heart where you reside. Gentle, tired, suburban mom tears.  Come, let me hold you close.  For tomorrow you will be gone.

Getting What You Want

When I have the opportunity, I love to be wrapped in warmth and heaviness.  (This is why I love hugs and you can hold me for a long time and I will not complain.  I usually withdraw first because I don't want to overstay my welcome....but I digress on the fine art of the hug....) We are approaching the time when it is most convenient to feel weighted blankets on the body and allow the pressure to ease tension.

Pressing adjectives that would currently describe my life:  exhausted, uncertain, confident, busy, accomplished, aging.  Despite that last description, I am basically a teenager right now. I might have a bump or two on my face to prove it.  Seriously?  Zits at 40?!  Who knew that was a thing?  Feelings that are opposite are juxtaposed together to sum up one day.  I rapidly transition from one to the next with hardly a break in between. 

As I walk day-to-day what I find most interesting is my internal responses are not what I expect them to be.  Yes, I am discouraged at the loss of my job because I have so enjoyed it; yes, I am somewhat uncertain about the future; but, I am also quite confident that I do not have to accept less than what I want.  I feel my value.  Let me repeat that again:  I feel my value. Perhaps for the first time in my life.  Feeling is completely different than seeing; few things compare to this peace.

I have recently been in contact with one of my former direct reports, and she makes me feel like myself. The idea is that while you might not necessarily be similar to someone else, there is an understanding of your nature that hangs in the air.   Do you know what that is? You can speak minimally, implying a statement, and it is readily understood and a comment comes back forthwith.  Morgan is such a person.  She is young, slender, outdoorsy, unorganized (self admitted) and frankly, might swear a lot.  All the things I am not, but I love her. I just so much enjoy working alongside her.  We have a very natural understanding of each other, with a portion of the relationship being a type of mentorship. 

Into this relationship I walk, a few nights a week.  Always I am greeted with, "How much time did you spend on indeed today?"  For the next little while, I regale her with the tales of job hunting.  We have a lot of laughs, almost all of them at my expense, which when you are in your safe zone is as natural as breathing. One particular day, I was really interested in a post about a vault processor.  I read through all the qualifications and was certain I was the right one for the job.  I enjoyed my time as vault teller (minus all the selling and other office issues)  Give me privacy, pile of cash and transactions to work through, and I'm good to go.  I'm very efficient.  I was all set to hit "apply" when my eye caught one outstanding thing. 

"You'll never guess what was on the docket today," I tell Morgan.  She was anxious to hear, and in that pivotal moment, unable to keep a straight face, I ruined the delivery.

Straight up, armed detail. 

Have you met me? 

I can no more shoot a gun than accurately throw a baseball. 

She laughed for a solid five minutes as I attempted to sell myself as a liason for armored cash transport.  I am gifted with words most of the time.  I usually never come away from an interview feeling that I have not succeeded in the appropriate giving and getting of information.  I gave many solid reasons and I think I for sure sold a couple other local friends who stopped by.  We all could definitely picture me hopping out of the back of the truck with my cash bag, guns, belts, and the like.

After we all stopped laughing.  And lying.  Morgan said,  "I am really sorry that this is happening to you, but I am enjoying all the stories that are coming from it."

Indeed.

This is a gentle reminder to me that people are always watching.  They observe how you react.  They listen to your words and your tone.  They watch to see if you are gracious.  I think our most defining moments come right here, right in the uncertain, teenage moments.  Just when all the zits are popping out, you have bags under your eyes because you work too many hours, and you have to go out and sell yourself to someone who does not know you.  You can cry because it really is unfair.  (and I have)  You can also choose to build through this time.  I found I have more of a network than I ever realized; numerous people have sent job listings and referrals.  I have received so much love.  I have found a most captive audience for all the eye-rolling and telling of stories, which is what every writer deeply desires. 

Guess what?  This is my moment.  This is when I get to empty my heart.  This is when I get to influence.   To impact.  To share.  To write! 

So this moment is....profound.

Angela is just where she wants to be, but the moment, as is almost always the case, is different than she imagined.  Getting what you want is complicated.

This moment is wrapped in warmth and heaviness.  And comfort.

Timing Take Two

I recently made the statement that 'timing is everything." It rings especially true this week in a less desirable approach.  Sometimes we don't understand the timing of events, and it is when we do not understand that we disapprove of the statement.  More often we like to tout it when all is going according to the plan we have set, or when we see a set of positive circumstances shaping up for ourselves.  "This must be what I've been waiting on - great! Timing is everything."

Gentle and beloved readers, it is actually all the more verifiable when it is not a desired outcome.  When things are not going well and the rug is pulled out from under us.  "A fine kettle of fish" is something I would have heard in a past life and frankly something that might pass my lips from time to time. 

Timing is everything.  Which means when your express train makes a hard stop midway toward the destination, it gives you pause.  And when you are hungry, tired and ready for the safety and respite of your home fire, it feels, unsettling.  Then. The more you consider your options it becomes downright terrifying.  Why did the train stop here?  Are we out of fuel? What went wrong? Did I not pay my way?  Does the conductor need help?

I have been steadily working toward a goal, friends, and I, in fact, have confirmation that I should receive the prize for which I have worked.  I was to be offered a job but this week brings the news that I will very likely lose this opportunity to extraneous circumstances.  In my lifetime, I have never been fired. I have never been let go.  I went through one "rightsizing" and just prior to the actual event they forced (very, very strongly encouraged) me to take a different role that no one wanted because it was a tough job.  I reluctantly agreed and two days later my entire team of 15+ was gone without goodbye.  Have you heard of survivors guilt?  It is definitely a thing and it did not feel right to have perhaps been "chosen" when I should have been included.  I cried while I watched them pack up the plants and notebooks of my lunch crew, and I never saw them again. 

Timing is everything.  While I keep repeating to myself that this is not a performance issue, the sting is no less, because I have not accomplished the goal for which I set out.  I took a calculated risk, gave up vacation, holiday time, steady income for what in the end would be better. 

My initial reaction is to say, "Well, see, it never pays to jump in the deep water." Or. "I tried a new role that I was uncertain about and instead of flying I plummeted to the ground, lesson learned."

We would never tell our children, "Aim low, Bud, aim low and you will merely sustain through life but at least you are sustaining." It's ludicrous.  We tell our graduates: "Aim for the sky! Jump! Experience!  You don't think you qualify? Try anyway!" 

Somewhere between eighteen and forty we start to change what we believe about ourselves and our potential.  I have had to talk to myself repeatedly over the last several days.

What is important about the timing of the current events I can't say. But it doesn't seem like this train will reach the confort of the home fire but instead will be redirected momentarily.

I'm extremely disappointed, but my tears are now all but dry, and I look to see what the next track will be. 

I hope I fly.