My Son

I have tried so hard to not "label" my children.  But I am afraid it is inevitable.  When asked about my children I often describe Stephen as the athletic one and Allie as the musical one.  This doesn't mean that Stephen has no musical  ability or Allie has no athletic ability.  Allie has always been the one totally devoted to school and good grades and Stephen has always been totally devoted to being the best in baseball.  But I hope that I have conveyed to them that these are descriptions and not judgements on who they are.  Because as we all know, as we grow, those descriptions change.

That has happened in Stephen's life in the last year and it has been miraculous to watch.  As a young boy, Stephen had a passion for throwing and catching balls and writing stories.  He was creative not only with stories but with making up games with balls.  One of our favorites was "This and That".  Don't ask me to describe it, I still don't understand the rules.  "That's okay, Mommy, I will wait for Daddy,"  was often said at our house after a few rounds of This and That.  Stephen also wrote incredible stories and was quite prolific.  I was thrilled that his Kindergarten, First and Second Grade teachers encouraged this creativity and didn't try to harness it into a formula.  Unfortunately by third grade we had moved to a state that had the "WRITING" test in 4th grade.  I am not sure I can describe the sorrow and pain I felt as I watched the creativity being squashed in my talented little boy.  I was devastated.  I was an educator for god's sake.  I knew better...but I had to sit by and watch.  I tried to continue encouraging his writing, but his confidence was taken away and a greater passion was taking over, baseball.  For the next several years I watched as my son's joy and confidence in academics ebbed away.  Finally in 9th grade he had a teacher who sealed the tomb on Stephen's academic interest.  At the same time, Stephen's passion and talents in baseball flourished.

The baseball field was the one place I could see him hold himself with confidence and surety.  It was beautiful to watch, because we all want to see our children happy and confident.  He went off to college to play baseball and once again I had to witness the killing of my son's dreams.  He had a coach who basically took Stephen's dreams away by tearing down his confidence and self-esteem.  But, my son was stronger than that.  He knew he was more than that.  He stood up and spoke up for himself and declared that after the summer, baseball would be over.

Honestly we all feared what would come next.  Stephen didn't see himself as we saw him, a smart kid.  Now he didn't  have baseball.  What would happen?  What came next is still miraculous to us.  My son woke up and found himself.  He found that boy of 5,6 and 7 who loved to read and write. He found his love of thinking and asking questions.  My son has become the academic that Jack and I always knew was inside him.

Getting a phone call telling us about a fantastic professor he has is exhilarating.  Looking at his Christmas list and finding several books and none of them about sports, it is amazing.  Seeing the sparkle in his eyes once again is more precious than gold.

There are many more adjectives that pertain to Stephen. He is much more than those adjectives.  He is an amazing young man who is beginning his journey as a man.  I am honored to be his mother and have a front row seat to the miraculous life he is living.  I only pray that he knows I see him as more than what he does, I see him.  My boy.  I see his heart which is gold.  All the rest is just gravy.

"Mom Voice" vs. "Me Voice"

[I wrote this last week, but am just getting around to publishing it.]

My son is leaving today.  He has been home for the holidays since the 23rd of December.  I am ready for him to go back.  But I am choking up and feel teary.  This is motherhood, isn't it?

We constantly live with 2 voices waging war inside our heads.  The one voice is looking out for us and our wants and needs. The other voice is looking out for what is best for our child, what they want, what they need.  Right after I had Stephen, I remember saying, "I never thought I was a selfish person until I had a baby."  And I think it is true.  I wasn't a particularly selfish person, but I just had the one voice in my head.   Life was so much simpler.

For the past 19 years, the "Mom voice" was the loudest and demanded the most attention.  Not that the "Me Voice" didn't shout and scream, but she just so often lost the fight.  As my children entered adolescents, "Mom voice" started taking some breaks.  Don't get me wrong, it still had a lot to say, but there were more periods when things were going smoothly.  In that period "Me Voice" started making noises.  "Hey, why don't you go to the movies tonight?  Kids are gone for the night!"  And little by little she became stronger and stronger.

Then the kids leave for college.  The "Mom voice" becomes frantic at the idea that she will no longer be needed and starts making the "Me voice" feel guilty for the thoughts and plans she had started making in the last year.  Sometimes "Mom voice" wins still and we stay over-involved in our grown kids' lives.  Hopefully, the "Mom voice" realizes that she is still needed, but it is her time to rest and give "me voice" more air-time.

Technology

Facebook has allowed me to reconnect with people that I doubt I would have ever reconnected with.  It gives me a way to reconnect with boundaries.  I share only what I want and they share only what they want.  We aren't sitting awkwardly with each other trying to evade questions we would really rather not answer.  We get to see photos of their lives and feel like we have not missed anything.  We get to wish all these people happy birthday without spending a penny or getting out of our house.   I have now connected with people from just about every aspect of my past life.  That is exciting.

For the past several months, the buzz seems to be about Pinterest.  Well, at least among my women friends.  There is some debate over whether one should sign up for this and whether it will be helpful or just another time suck.  I have found Pinterest to be a vital tool for me.  You see, my memory seems to be ebbing away.  Either that or I just have SO much IMPORTANT information stored that where that recipe for chicken is just doesn't make the list.  Whatever, Pinterest is my new  storage unit.  It is my file cabinet, my bulletin board, my online memory!  If I see something online, a new project, a recipe, an outfit, or a book, I simply pin it to my board in Pinterest and then go on my happy way.  When I need to retrieve said item, I simply log into Pinterest and search for the photo, I am a VERY visual learner, and bam, I am sent to the link!  It has really made the internet easier for me to manage.

For Christmas, I gave my parents a webcam.  On Christmas day, my brothers set up the camera and we got to "see" all my family.  It felt as if we were there in my parents' home with them.  I didn't get to feel my mom's arms around me, but it was the next best thing.  Now I want to be able to connect with my little nieces more.  I think I have convinced my brother and his wife to get a webcam for themselves.  I am so excited!  I have already begun to plan activities and books I want to read to them!  They are homeschooled, so I am hoping to be able to help in some of their lessons!  It feels like the best of both worlds.  I get to see my family and talk face to face without having to leave my home in North Carolina and all my friends here.  Recently I had a "coffee date" with a friend who lives in Iowa.  It was so cool to get to see her and talk.

Technology has many pros and cons.  I know that all of the above can be abused and used for evil.  But like everything in life, there is a light side and a dark side.  I continue in my quest to look at the light side and find it wherever I go.   What gifts have technology given to you?

Toying with Ideas

Well, it is the new year.  Along with the new year comes the resolutions.  Every year I make some resolutions, I will lose weight, exercise more, be nicer, remember to send birthday cards on time, etc.  Some years I vow NOT to make a resolution.  Yet, secretly in my head I make them.  I seem to enjoy setting myself up for failure.

Currently I am toying with the idea that this year I am going to work on building up my strength.  When you are chronically ill, it seems you become MUCH more sedentary.  Now, I know, all the docs, nurses and PT's tell you it is important to move.  I KNOW it is.  But when I feel like shit, I am sorry, I don't really want to move!  When said movement is going to make me hurt worse for the rest of today and possibly tomorrow, it is really hard to get motivated!  Sometimes watching Biggest Loser, I wonder if I was on the show, if I really could push myself like those people do.  I mean, I am not more than 15 pounds heavier than I should be, so surely I can do what they do.  I wonder what Bob would say?

I say toying, because I don't want to say anything to my family about it.  I am scared I will just fail one more time and well, I really don't want any witnesses to that!  I really do yearn to be stronger.  I have noticed a significant weakening in the last year and that scares me.  So, we will see.

Another idea that I am toying with is the idea of writing.  I would like to set up the habit of writing every day.  I would like to promise you, my faithful readers (jack), that I will blog every day in 2012.  But, I know that won't happen.  There will be days when nothing will flow from my brain.  My novel is still brewing in my head.  The main character keeps coming up and speaking to me and telling me stories that I should write down.  I need to make space for her.  So, we will see.

Maybe I should make a schedule for myself:
7:00 a.m. wake up and eat breakfast
8:00 a.m. exercise alternate walking and weights
8:30 a.m. sit down to blog
9:00 a.m. write
10:00 a.m. clean house
10:30 a.m. Work
12:00 p.m. lunch break
1:00 p.m. work/run errands
5:00 p.m. start dinner
6:00 p.m. eat dinner

Wow, sounds great, except for the hour to shower and the hour to nap or lay down to recover from the exercise.....

Well, we will see...

Miracles

Growing up, my mom always told the stories of our births as miracles.  She conceived Kip, my older brother, with her uterus turned inside out.  It was a miracle that he was born.  When I was born, it was a miracle that we both lived.  She was told she would never have anymore children after me, so when she conceived Kade, my younger brother, seven years later, well, it was a miracle!  So growing up we were told that we were miracles that God had given to her to raise and love.  Little did we know that we too, would get a miracle from God.  These memories were brought forth today in the form of a brown package.

My doorbell rang this morning and there was some confusion getting to the door only to find that no one was there.  As I walked away, I noticed the UPS truck driving off, so I went back to the door and found a package on my porch.  I knew this was from my mom and contained 2 small gifts for the kids, something my mom wanted to give Allie and my birthday gift.  I was a bit befuddled by the latter, as we don't do birthday gifts for adults anymore.

I opened the box and checked that everything was there.   Next, with Jack looking over my shoulder I opened my birthday present.  Inside were my mother's wedding ring and the dinner ring she had made out of my Grandmother Riley's first wedding ring.  (I say first because Clovis was married 4 times in all.)  I was stunned.  This was the last thing I expected to find in this little box.  I couldn't understand why.

I called my mom, she asked that I call the minute I got the box, now I realize why!  I began to cry. So many thoughts.  Why was she giving me these now?  What did this mean?  Was she foreseeing her death?  What was going on?  But the reason was quite simple.  Her hands have become so arthritic that she can no longer wear the rings.  So she wanted to be able to give them to me now and see me enjoy them.

But, there is something eery about wearing these rings.  My hands suddenly look more like my mom's than mine.  They bring memories of holding her hands and twirling her rings.  Taking them off and trying them on.  They bring memories of hospitals where I sat twisting these rings around my fingers waiting impatiently for her to emerge from surgery.

My mom and I are best friends.  We talked on the phone at LEAST once a week.  Then about 6 years ago, mom stopped making sense on the phone.  She sounded drunk.  She talked of falling.  She talked of bruises.  She talked of not knowing where she was.  I went to her and brought her home with me.  That began the hardest period of my life.  Over that 6 months, I slowly grieved the loss of my best friend.  There were no more long talks about her life, my kids, decorating, life.  She was a shell of a woman.  Then a miracle happened.  She woke up.  As if from a dream, or nightmare.   She went back to Texas, and slowly, gradually has become whole.

Yet, just recently have she and I begun to talk once a week again.  It has taken me almost 5 years to trust that my mom is really here.

And now she has entrusted me with her wedding ring and the diamonds my Pop gave my grandmother. I will take in all the memories, joyous and painful, and will wear these rings with great pride.

These rings will remind me of the miracle that is my mom.

Fear of Writing/Water/Gays - somehow it all ties together

I have had several people say to me recently that they think I am a good writer.  Hm...I want to be a writer.  Well, I am a writer.  But I still don't know if I "feel" like a writer.  It seems a writer would always have something to write about.  It seems a writer wouldn't let the "inside the head editor" erase the entire blog entry they just wrote.  It seems a writer would want to always be writing.  I know, I know, this is not at all true.  It is work.  I have read many biographies and books about writing.  I know you have to make it a habit.  I haven't done that.  I need to do that.

I constantly have thoughts in my head that I think I should write about.  But sometimes when I sit down to write, I freeze.  The editor in my head says "are you sure you want people to read THAT?"  "do you really think people will care about that story?".  And so I delete, and go back to reading.

What do you have in your life that you "really want to do"?  What paths have you not chosen because you are scared, lazy, or just plain tired?  What is the voice in your head telling you?  How do you turn it off?

I was reminded this weekend about the idea of living life out of a place of peace instead of fear.  This is a constant cognizant choice I have to make.  For the first 30 to 35 years of my life I lived in fear.  Fear of what God would do to me.  Fear of the trouble I would get into with teachers/parents/friends.  Fear that I would fail.  Fear that I would get hurt.  Fear that people would laugh at me.  Fear that people would not like me.  So many fears.  But I consciously made a choice to raise my children differently.  Now, they hold that truth up to me to encourage me to live my own life out of peace, like they are.    They are my example of how to put fear out of the equation and plunge forward.

We all have our fears.  Whether it be an innocent fear of the water or homophobia, we all have fears.  What is important, is what will we do with the fear.  Will we allow our fear of water to let us come to the end of our lives having never felt the ocean wash over our feet?   Will we allow our homophobia to continue to make legislation and religious doctrine that take the rights of our neighbors?  Our friends? Our families?

We are at that moment in history where we need to stop.  We need to stop and ask ourselves what is behind our fear.  Do we really think that letting gays marry will in some way ruin our marriage?  Do we really think that these people CHOOSE this life?  Do we really, truly believe, that Jesus finds them an abomination?  Jesus, the man who ate with the vilest most hated people of society?  Jesus, the man who taught that the lowest shall be the highest?  Jesus, the man who taught us to love our neighbor as ourselves?  This Jesus would applaud us teaching and preaching hate against GLBT people?  Really? So, stop.  Really, stop.  Ask yourself why you are scared.  See if there is really any basis in it.  If you are using the Bible, stop.  Really look into that Bible you take so literally, there are many things in there that I bet you aren't doing...like owning slaves, having many wives and concubines, killing your child if they are born with something not quite right, etc.  So, stop.

As you ask yourself, "Why am I afraid of water?" or "Why am I homophobic?" I will be over here asking myself, "What am I afraid of if I write a novel?"

It is never too late to rid our lives of fear.

You are loved!

In the past few days I have been confronted with other people's pain; one a stranger, another a friend.  Both are women who have lost their way.  Both are suffering financially.  Both feel utterly alone in this world even though they have friends and children who love them dearly.  The pain is palpable.  It vibrates off both women with virtual SOS signs popping all around them.  The sadness and despair is so deep I felt drawn to the edge with them.  One I listened to while standing in a thrift store, and then talked to on the phone the next day.  The other was beyond my help.

Now I sit with this pain and know not what to do with it.  It presses on my heart and causes tears to spontaneously fall.   The unanswerable questions flow through my mind.  They do no good.  I can't "fix" either of them.  All I can do is be present and listen.  I can be open so that others, strangers in thrift stores, feel the safe harbor.  I can be at the other end of the phone.  I can remind my friends and loved ones that they are loved.

So please know, that if you are reading this, you must have a special place in my heart.  Know that there is someone in this world who cares.  Know that you are loved.