Ghost of Christmas Past

      I'm sitting here in my quiet house.  My kids are playing outide with neighbors, Sweetness is taking a nap.  This could be any day of the year, except it's Christmas Eve.  I'm trying to be busy, cleaning, packing, cooking, but my mind is rambling.  A couple weeks ago my Gran was diagnosed with terminal cancer.  No one knows where it started from, how long she's had it, all they know is it's every where and it's moving fast.  It's doubtful that she will see New Years. 
     So now you know why my mind is spinning, time to let out all the mental clutter:
   I had two very differnt grandmothers with almost the same name.  Flois and Floyce.  My Gran is who is in the nursing home right now and wandering thru my mind.  She wasn't the warm cudly grandmother who covered you in kisses.  The entire time I was growing up she didn't even put our pictures up in the front part of her house, not the proper way to decorate you see.  She is my prim and proper grandmother, so unlike my Mawmaw.  Mawmaw was the  warm snuggly grandmother.  Gran is not a woman who doles out affection or  "i love you's" She just isn't comfortable with that. I sit here thinikng of all the ways we spent time together, and her love shines through in the time spent with Tabba and I and the paitience she had with us. 
    Gran sewed all of our fancy christmas and Easter dresses when we were growing up, I didn't appreciate just how much work that took til I was grown and sewing a few things for my own daughter.  We spent many nights at gran and Gramp's house, she was always fun.  We made innumerable cookies and treats for every holiday in her kitchen. She spent about a week of my life teaching me to roll dough into a ball the size of a small walnut.  As I sit here looking back a few things are striking me.  She always let us play in her kitchen.  Tabitha and I made some kind of concoction out of all of her fancy spices and what ever else we could get our hands on.  She never fussed, she would hand us new stuff to dump in our mixing bowls and dutifully pretend to eat every creation.  Gran also always let us play in her expensive makeup.  Tabitha and I would slap so much Este Lauder on that we looked like rabid clowns, and Gran would just laugh and clean us up.  Being wasteful and silly are not things my Gran would ever abide by, except, she let us be just that every time we came over. 
      Gran also cooked for our family every saturday night and sunday after church.  She would make huge meals and we all ate together, prayed together and then watched HeeHaw together.  She put so much work and time into us. 
       My best memories of my Gran are of Christmas Eve.  Every Christmas Eve we went to church with my Gran and Gramp to thier candlelight service.  It's a very importnat night to a child because they let me hold a real live lit candle.  After the songs and the service I would be dieng to get back to Gran's house, knowing that presents were waiting for us all.  Gran was a show stopper when it came to food.  She always believed that fifty percent of cooking was held in the presentation of the food.  Every Christmas Eve she out did herslf.  We would walk in and she had more cookies, tarts, pies, candies, and punch than the six of us could eat in a month.  Everything would be just so, on it's own stand or in a colorful dish. 
      I guess in the love languages thinking Gran would be an acts of service and a quality Time type of gal. As a child I just couldn't understand her stand-off-ish nature.  Turns out she was never trying to be prickly, she was showing love in the only ways she felt comfortable.

Hands on Hips smiles on Lips

   I have been slacking on the blog here lately.  School starting, football and cheer leading practices and games, and life in general has been keeping us very, very busy.  So here's my lil re-cap.  God has guided us to another fantastic school!  My kids are so happy since school started.  They have met wonderful kids and they love their teachers.  I am one of Tate's room moms and I help with Turner's class as well.  I always feel awkward jumping into these kind of positions, I fear I won't get everything done "the right way".  I'm discovering my perfectionism can be quite a handicap.  Thankfully there is  a fantastic group of experienced room moms helping me get all the crazy parties and crafts together, and I appreciate them more than they know.
    During football season I got to be Tate's cheer coach.  Talk about an experience that is out of my wheel house.  I have never cheered a single cheer in my life.  I have never been so nervous to get up in front of eight little girls in my life, not to mention all the parents at all our practices.  I learned so much from these girls and ended up having an awesome time.  They really didn't care that I was a less than spectacular coach or that I didn't know the cheers, they were just happy to have someone to spend time with them and pay them undivided attention.  At our practices the head coach would call the girls to attention by yelling "Hands on hips, smiles on lips!".  At first I thought this was just cute, but I started seeing it as a really smart mantra for life as our season went on.  At one of the games our Freshman Bucs were loosing, and one of my sweet girls informed me that we still needed our smiles on lips and hands on our hips.  Snap, life lessons from a six year old.  We cheered our hearts out both in the games we won and the games we lost.  I say we because I cheered every cheer and my heart stood on the line with my boy on every play.  Lord help me, the most exciting football season of my life.  I can not imagine feeling more fortunate to have a healthy son and daughter playing on the same field. 
     In the middle of our first season of Texas football our house grew by three feet. We adopted a puppy from a local shelter.  Tinker is missing part of her hind leg.  She of course has no clue, she is fast and ferocious I'd be scared to see how much faster she'd be with all four feet.  This is another thing I've enjoyed learning through- be happy, even if something is missing.
    Part of my heart is still in Macon.  I miss fall, the kids raking leaves, and building the tree fort.  I miss 227 time on my neighbors front stoop.  Summer here was easier to get through, the beach is a wonderful thing.  The pull of salt water and sunshine was big enough to distract me from the missing part of my heart.  But I'm learning to still be happy, to quit thinking of my heart as missing a part, rather it's just spread out across the miles.    So on I go with hands on hips and smiles on lips.  
     We have started a new Christmas tradition - RACK'd.  Random Acts of Christmas Kindness.  I found it on a stay at home mom blog I follow.  This, more than the Elf on the Shelf, really embodies what I want my kids to learn of the Christmas spirit.  I hope it catches on.  You try to do a small kindness each day for others.  Our list simple, some are gifts, some are acts of service.  All are done with the best intentions of sharing kindness with others to help spread the Christmas spirit.  My kids are in love with this idea.  Each morning they wake up ready to give something to others, which makes me one proud mama.  I am getting far more out of our RACK'd project than the kid or recipients, I am feeling overwhelmed  with joy from watching my kids, it is definitely more than enough to keep a smile on my lips all December long!

You will be praised

Who can find a virtuous woman? She is far more precious than jewels...
Strength and honor are her clothing, and she can laugh at the time to come.
She opens her mouth with wisdom, and loving instruction is on her tongue.
She watches over the activities of her household and is never idle.
Her sons rise up and call her blessed.
He husband also praises her:
Many women are capable, but you surpass them all!
Charm is deceptive and beauty is fleeting, but a woman who fears the Lord will be praised.
~Proverbs 31:10, 25-30


  This verse is for all my sisters.  It made me thin of all of you this week.  I will not lie, Monday was very trying day for me.  The stress if sending both my babies to a new school about undid me.  But through out the day starting bright and early the wonderful sisterhood of mothers I am friends with carried me.  I had so many kind words, texts, hugs, messages and my phone never quit ringing.  I'm praising each of you, and from the bottom of my heart thank you.
   Who knew that having children would lead to having the most meaningful friendships?  I thought that when Sweetness and I decided to have kids we would increase our family one child at a time, not by bushels and bunches.  Motherhood has brought me to my knees on more than one occasion, but I always seem to find someone else down on her knees praying right there with me.
    I am so thankful for each of you who felt the anxiety of the first day of school with me. I hate that you have gone through it, but thank you for guiding me.  Thank you for sharing your experiences and a laugh with me.  I talk with my Sweetness, I told him all about my fears but he just didn't "get it" like mothers do.  This is why no matter how close I am with him I will always need my friends.  Our hearts share the pain and triumph held in each day of our children's lives. 
    
Thanks girls, you mean the world to me.

It's finally here....

   It's finally here, the last day of summer.  My children start school on Monday.  We've all waited all summer for this, talked about it and looked forward to it.  I take it all back.  I am not looking forward to it at all.  I do want my kids to be able to meet more friends, and Tate is so excited to be a Kindergartner, but what about me?
      I'm realizing that my kids truly are my best friends.  I do not strive to be their "friend".  I try to be their mother, teacher, example, and even their disciplinarian, but not their friend.  That sounds mean, but I want to "train them up in the way they should go", not spoil or indulge their every want.  I always thought I'd be best friends with my kids when they were older but it turns out that time is right now. 
      This summer has brought on a lot of challenges to our family, and in turn many discussions.  Two deaths in our family and an incredibly painful move cross country.  So we have talked about every thing from being old, to cancer, to sad hearts and how our friends will still be our friends even if we can't see them that often.  Because of this move we have all had to become each other's friend more so than we were in Macon.  In Macon we all had best friends, heck they lived right next door.  But now the kids rely more on each other and have played more together this summer than they ever have.  I have been invited into their play time too and it's been wonderful.  But more than that I've had to open up and be very honest with my children about my heart.  I've not hidden anything from them about how sad I was about moving and when my Aunt Marsha was sick and dieing I had to explain why I was so sad.  To be comforted by my seven year old son and five year old daughter, it was like  hugs from angels.  They got it and understood because of how much they love their Aunt Tabba. 
    Now summer is over, so are our days of exploration of new places.  I know this will become our new normal and I can not wait to see how they flourish in a new school.  My kids love other kids, love going somewhere new, and the only reason you aren't their friend is because they haven't met you yet.  They are so much better at this moving thing than I am. 
     This new chapter also leaves me feeling kind of useless.  Both my babies will be in school, what am I supposed to do with my days now?  I guess this is a feeling every stay at home mom has.  I will volunteer more at school, I will go to more school lunches, I will cook more, clean more, do better with my grocery shopping and couponing.  But all the while I'll be missing my two little shadows.  I feel as if I finally need to grow up and get a job.  But after talking with Sweetness, it doesn't make sense for our family.  His work schedule allows very little time for kid activities.  I am the only parent able to attend 90% of all that they do and we don't have back up grandmas and grandpas to step in and get the kids from school or practice if one of us is late.  So I'll put off growing up for a a little while longer. 
     Monday will come, I will pack lunches and take pictures.  We will walk in and hug goodbye, then pay no attention to me as I walk out, because I will be a crying hot mess. But Tuesday will be easier and by Friday it will be our new normal.  I will pray for my kids, their teachers, their classmates, and my own selfish heart.  I am so thankful that God gave me such adaptive kids, I am blessed beyond measure.  So bring on school, who knows what wonderful adventures it will hold for the Currier Family.

Filling in the void

   I read a quote last night that really made me think. It was talking about he hole left after an organ is removed and how the body fills in the gap.  Blood and fluid fill the space and tissue builds.  The book was referencing how this is the same as loosing a family member.  The gap is painful, seems insurmountable, and then the body forces something else into the empty space. 
   After my rib was taken out just touching the skin on my chest was extremely painful.  Like couldn't even wear a delicate silver chain kind of painful.  The space under my skin where the newly missing rib was soft, not at all solid and strong like it had once been.  But over the course of the next year my body filled in the space.  My chest wall again became hard, no gap is noticeable.  I can only see where the rib is missing during workouts when doing a few exercises. 
     This is a lot like loosing a family member.  Unfortunately we've had two huge losses for my family this year.  First Brad's sweet grandmother, then last month my Aunt Marsha.  While Brad's grandmother had lived a long full life, my Aunt Marsha was struck down in the prime of hers with liver cancer.  Over the past few weeks since her funeral my mind has been struggling to right itself and fill in the void. 
    I look at her picture often so I can remember how she really looked, not how I saw her in the last days of her life.  Frail and small, ravaged by an evil disease is not how I want to remember her.  I want to remember her grinning devilishly over a hand of cards, laughing while she played a wild Canasta and ticked off the men's team.  I want to remember her driving me to school every day of my childhood.  She would drive the station wagon while eating a sandwich in the most irritating way, circularly until all that was left was a small quarter sized bite.  Who does that?  I want to remember the way she helped with everything at my wedding.  With very little notice or planning my parents threw together a great wedding, and she was there helping every step of the way.  I want to remember how much she loved my kids and was always so happy to see them.  Every time we came home for a visit, with in five minutes of walking through my parents' door I would hear Aunt Marsha and Uncle Larry pull up on their Ranger, ready to hug me and the kids. 
    My family is small, my mother is an only child and my dad has two brothers.  I technically have two aunts.  One I saw a little bit when I was very small but then they moved and very seldom attended any family functions.  So much so that she didn't know who I was when I saw her at the hospital when my grandmother was dieing.  My Aunt Marsha on the other hand lived next door, drove me to school every day til I was old enough to drive myself.  She and my Uncle Larry brought us swimming to the creek many times every summer.  We camped at our favorite state park with our families RVs next to each other every year.  While camping we ate dinner together every night and then would get into very heated card game, Rook or Canasta, and finish the night with a very loud game of Mexican train.  Some of my happiest memories are at Percy Quin park around a camp table.
    Since I haven't lived "at home" in over a decade aunt Marsha's loss won't be the same for me as it will for everyone at home.  I won't see her presence being missed in every day life.  I won't notice the empty pew at church every week where she usually sat.  But I  feel her loss just as powerfully.  She was such a huge part of my childhood.  As an adult I loved her as my friend.  We still played cards every visit home and she loved to enrage my husband when the ladies team won.  Sweetness loved Aunt Marsha too.  They had a funny relationship.  He picked on her relentlessly and she loved to irritate him.  I always said he could smell the "mother of boys" smell on her.
    Seeing her tiny and frail yet keeping her optimism was a testament to what an awesome person she was.  The last time I hugged her she was so small, and she had never before been tiny in my mind.  But now she is no longer frail or sick,no longer weak and strong and whole is how I am choosing to remember her. I can still see the gleam in her eye when she played cards.  I still see the smile on her face when she hugged my babies and treated them like her own grandchildren.
I am so blessed to have had such an awesome lady as my Aunt, my neighbor, and my friend.       

It's just a shoulder

      When I was about fifteen I was at church and my Uncle Larry was filing in as our Sunday school teacher.  I was there with my high school sweetheart and there were several other sets of boy friend and girl friends.  So my uncle decided to dive into the creation story.  He started asking us all kinds of questions about why God used a rib bone to make Eve instead of dust or another bone.  We all tried to answer but when he explained his  view it really stuck with me.  God did not create Eve, mans life partner, out of dirt because she wasn't to come from under his feet.  He didn't use a back bone because she isn't supposed to spend her life behind him.  He didn't take a part of bone from the top of Adam's head because she isn't of higher importance than him.  God chose the rib to remind Adam that his wife is to be by his side, an equal.  So my Uncle Larry has me and beau stand up side by side to illustrate.  This made a big impression on me, obviously if I'm still thinking about the lesson almost twenty years later.
    I  have had shoulders on my mind a lot lately.  Another benign body part you never think of til you are missing one to stand by.   I think the shoulder is highly under rated.  It's my favorite place to curl up and sleep with my Sweetness.  But yesterday I really missed some one else's shoulder.  This moving and being new has many advantages.  We get to have a new house every couple of years and pick what fits our family best at what ever stage the kids are at.  We see more of the U.S. than most people I know.  Our kids will have a network of friends spread far and wide and will learn what it takes to work to maintain friendships.  But yesterday while I was standing in church I felt the sharp edge of lonely that comes with our gypsy life.  I missed my Sister Wife's shoulder. 
     No, I'm not a polygamist.  The other work wives and I started calling each other Sister Wives.  It does take a village to raise kids and we all left our home villages.  But through friendship and common situations we learned to rely on each other the way most people rely on their family.  Why is going to a new church with just me and the kids so hard?  My hat is off to all the single parents in the world.  It's not hard to get up and get everyone dressed, we are way past that being the issue.  It's hard to walk in to what I think of as a traditional family setting with out the corner stone of my family by my side. 
    In Macon we started going to a new church much like the one we've found here.  But in Macon when I was new to Piedmont and so was my S.W. Ashlee.  It didn't feel weird to walk in because I was not alone.  We sat in the back, shoulder to shoulder and enjoyed many a Sunday worship.  My other tall beautiful blond S.W. Jill was there a lot too.  The few Sunday's that the husbands were not working were great, between the six of us we filled up a row and were the most mismatched looking group of friends, there were plenty of shoulders all pressed in together.
     Growing up church never felt lonely or uncomfortable.   I go back when I visit Louisiana and it still feels like home.  My family is there, both the blood relations and my church family.  Piedmont became my church family.  Familiar faces, my kids' teachers and friends all made it feel normal.  I'm missing a shoulder to stand beside here.  I wish when jobs were staffed there was some way to take into consideration the families being moved.  I understand that PCL is in the business of building power plants not families.
      I am not taking shoulders or ribs for granted.  I know first hand the damage a rib can do when a rib is removed.  I know the empty space left when a shoulder is not right beside me.  I know Sweetness won't work every Sunday morning, I will see my Sister Wives again some where down the road.  Until then we will call, text, keep up with each other on Facebook.  I think heaven for me would be having each one of my best friends all in one place.  I know you would all get along because I only hang out with spectacular women.  To have you all pulled in from Oklahoma, Louisiana, Georgia, Michigan, Utah, and North Carolina would be one incredible place.  Our kids would get to hang out and play, and we would make up the most wonderful village to raise them in.  A truly happy thought!

A Mom Who Boogies

   The kids and I pray every morning in the car.  This may not be the most reverent place on earth, but it's our routine and a great way to start our day.  I start, I pray about our day, I try to always be thankful for our many blessings- Papa's job, our friends, our family, good days spent together, and specific things about each kid then end by praying for others that need to be lifted up.  Then it's Tate's turn.  Every morning she starts off with "Dear God please watch over us and keep us safe, watch over Papa and keep him safe...."  Then she goes through a couple things she's thankful for.  Most of Tate's prayers are to help everyone, keep Papa's workers safe, help Aunt Marsha and Uncle Larry fight her cancer, she prays from her heart and it's wonderful.
    Turner is our closer, and what a closer he can be! He asks for safety for our family, he prays for Aunt Marsha- for everything from her doctors to her medicines.  Then my boy prays about what he's thankful for.  Some times it's short, sometimes it's just thank you God for our family.  Right after we moved he prayed often for friends.  My heart broke every morning, but God listened and sent friends!  Thursday Turner thanked God for all the new friends we have found here in Lake Jackson, he thanked God for days that have started to feel normal, then he thanked God for OFF mosquito spray, a Papa who likes to take us to the beach and for a mom who likes to boogie.  I had to stifle a laugh.  My sweet seven year old was talking about he and I riding boogie boards at the beach the day before.  His prayer stayed with me all day and kept me smiling.  I need to learn to thank God for the really simple things, not just the big stuff.
    I learn so much form my kids.  How to pray and come to God like a child is one of the best lessons so far.  I love our time in the mornings.  I thank God everyday for Sweetness' job and that I can stay home with the kids.  I always feel like their mom, but I feel like we are all best friends too.  I cherish the ages they are right now.  I want time to slow down so I can have them longer just like this.  I will boogie for as long as Turner likes to swim out with me.  I am thankful for a son who boogies too.

Salt water heals all wounds

  
      
     I haven't felt like blogging lately. I tend to be happy in real life, but get pretty mushy in my writing. I think the click of keys makes it easier to say what I feel, much better than the sound of my own voice. I couldn't even talk about leaving Oxford Road, the wound was just too fresh. But it's been a month and Texas is becoming my new normal so here goes.
       I miss you. I miss the slopping hills in my neighborhood, so many trees every where that radio reception is blocked. I miss being able to get in the car and drive any where with out thought or punching in an address to the GPS. I miss your houses, and seeing what little changes you make, what paint sample is now on the wall, where did you hang the new picture of the kids? I miss those of you I didn't even know that well, but I enjoyed seeing you every day and you helped make my life familiar. More than all of that, I miss your children. Not just for the selfish reason that they make my children happy ans keep them entertained. But I miss them for the curl in their beautiful hair, the way summer tan looks on handsome boys, the sound of the basket ball, seeing who has lost a new tooth, and how a new dress looks while twirling. This is the part I never expected. I've missed my friends and their kids before, but our children were younger and hadn't yet come in to their own and been so full of personality. Now it's different.
       As for Texas, it's hot. I mean really hot. I've lived in Arizona, so I know a dry heat of one hundred fifteen plus, I'm from Louisiana and know muggy heat, but this coastal heat is a whole new ball game! This town is flat with out much personality, but I'm hoping it will grow on me. The kids and I have found new routines, they have even made some new friends down the street. We are slowly learning our way around. I say we because Turner knows where more things are than I do and helps more than I should admit.
      What I have found that I like is my children. I always liked spending time with them but we all had our own friends and were so busy in Macon that we didn't spend very much time just me and them. A month here knowing no one leaves plenty of quality time to be spent. We have done tons of crafts and exploring. Tate has given up naps so I have two more hours a day with her than ever before. Turner and Tate have taken all this in stride, they are truly amazing people. We talk openly when any of us are having a bad day. Turner understands deeply what missing a best friend feels like and we talk about it a lot. He's so mature, so grown, and such a little boy all at the same time. We will have had a great day full of new things, then he will come crawl in my lap and thank me for taking them to play racket ball or what ever we have done. But he will add in, "I really had fun, but I do miss going and talking to Will about everything". Then my heart breaks a little. Even though he misses his best friend he is reaching out and making friends every where we go. He just goes up and introduces himself and asks to play. Tate is handling all this with more insecurity. My outgoing loud little ball of fire has become quiet. She is a little unsure of herself and is having a harder time going up to new kids at the gym or rec center. Turner has told her to just do what he does: Look for someone playing something you like and just go make a friend. I hope she gets the hang of it like he has.

       The best thing about Lake Jackson, Texas is the proximity to the beach. We have gone every day that Brad has had off from work and I can't get enough. They aren't the white sand and crystal blue water of tropical islands, but they are waves and salt water and that is apparently all we need. Happiness is in weird places, for me it's thirty yards out, floating on a boogie board beside my son waiting for the next perfect wave. Happiness is sitting digging up sea shells and clams with Tate. Happiness is sitting by my Sweetness watching our kids manifest true joy while dancing in the surf. So I get through the week, try to keep myself and the kids very busy, so busy no one feels the sadness down in our hearts. Then Saturday comes and we pack an ice chest and set out to the beach. We all laugh and talk. Every one plays and it is an easy bliss. Sunday we get up and hit the eight thirty service at our new church, and are back on the beach before noon. It's something about the salt water. The waves washing you toward shore, the taste of your lips, the soft fine sand underfoot. It's all a very powerful prescription for a broken heart.

The Right Way

      I am packing full swing right now.  I am planning, labeling, taping, and wrapping.  At the same time I am trying to slow it down and remember the two youngest members of our family.  Both kids have always known we were moving.  I have an all honesty policy about the nature of of our living arrangements.  I'm hoping if I always tell them the possibilities, the up coming hardships, the exciting news along with the bad that they will feel like the are included in our decisions and not just an after thought.  It's so hard to tell if I'm going about all this the "right" way or if I am setting them up for a life time of therapy bills and screwed up adult relationships. 
     Doing things the "right" way has been on my mind a lot lately.  Recently Brad's grandmother died.  He was extremely close to her and it was a tremendous loss for the whole family.  Besides the sadness of loosing her and watching my husband grieve, I felt a panic to help my kids through this time so they will have a good foundation to deal with death and dieing.  I remember when I was ten and my grandfather died.  I knew it was coming, my parents explained about cancer and his condition.  They read me a book about water bugs turning into dragon flies.  The water bugs left behind in the pond missed their friends when they transformed and left the pond.  But the dragon flies could fly high above the pond and still see and love the water bugs, even if they couldn't be with them any longer.  It had a big impact on me.  I can say in all honesty I have never looked up the life cycle of a dragonfly, I don't want to know if they start out as water bugs.  I want to think the story is true, it makes knowing heaven is real easier for me.  I tried to explain to Brad that times like this are big important milestone in the life of a mom. Of course he talked with the kids too, but finding a book and explaining death and heaven was primarily my job.  I have two of the best kids on earth and I didn't want to fail them.  They deserve everything I could ever hope to equip them with and so much more. 
     Tate is going along like nothing is changing.  She loves to help me and thinks boxes are fun.  She knows we are moving but doesn't know what it entails. Turner on the other hand remembers our last move and knows what this means.  Turner also has friends now, real friends.  He spends every day with our neighbor Will.  They build forts, they play ball, and they talk.  I know Will is going to be in our lives along with his whole family forever.  They are woven right into the fabric of our family and we are all tangled up in theirs.  I am going to miss my friends, but it's easier for me.  I'll call, I'll Skype, and we'll use Facebook to stay connected.  Turner just wants his time with his best friend, and that breaks my heart.
     My boy is clearly going through the stages of grief, he's been mad, he's acted like it's not going to happen, and now he seems to accept that  we are leaving.  His holding his head high and helping me as much as he has tears at me deep down.   He's seven and he already acts like a man.  It's not that he wants to pack up and leave, but if he's got to, he's going to do it with out grumbling.  He told me last night that he's not excited to move but he's ready to get there so we can start being normal again, I couldn't agree more. 
     Today I'll start helping Tate go through her room.  Just as I did with Turner, I'll let her make decisions on what gets kept, what gets donated, and what gets thrown away.  I am holding back my instinct to get rid of as much junk as I can.  When I look at scribbles in note books and Ziplocs full of rocks I see junk.  But when I ask my kids it's stories they've written about fun days we've spent together and treasure rocks they've dug up with their friends.  What does packing one or two more boxes matter if it preserves my kids memories and happy reminders?  
      I know the next few weeks will hold many ups and downs.  I have so many emotions going on right now but I'm trying to push them back and stay so busy I don't have time to fall apart.  I'll try to act as normal and confident for the kids as I can.  I'll try to seem like we are doing this the "right" way, in hopes that we are.  But I'll know the whole time I'm already missing our normal every day that we found here in Macon.  Our home is right on the edge of that moment when enough things are boxed up that it starts to sound hollow.  The minute the home starts sounding hollow is the minute it turns back into just a house, not our home.  The loss of that feeling of home is odd, and it drives me to quickly make my home somewhere else.  I want my kids to feel comfortable and secure.  So if I seem distant it's because I am racing to pack the happy feelings from this home and try to get it all moved and replicated in our next town.  I'm busy trying to do this all the "right " way.

A Construction Wife

One of my good friends sent me this in an email but it was for the definition of an Army Wife.  It was so close to being perfect for us I had to change a few things and now I think it fits.  For my girls--Jill, Ashlee, Tyna and all the other Construction Wives-







The Definition of a Construction Wife:

Lots of moving...
Moving...
Moving...
... Moving far from home...
Moving two cars, two kids, a turtle, and one dog...all riding with HER of course.
Moving sofas to basements because they won't go in THIS house;
Moving curtains that won't fit;
Moving to new school districts, new neighborhoods.
Moving away from friends;
Moving toward new friends;
Moving her most important luggage: her trunk full of memories.

Often waiting...
Waiting...
Waiting...
Waiting for word.
Waiting for assignments.
Waiting for phone calls.
Waiting for reunions.
Waiting for the new curtains to arrive.
Waiting for him to come home, For dinner...AGAIN!

They call her his 'dependant', but she knows better:
She is fiercely In-Dependent.

She can balance a check book;
Handle the yard work;
Fix a noisy toilet;
Bury the family pet...
She is intimately familiar with drywall anchors and toggle bolts.
She can file the taxes;
Sell a house;
Buy a car;
Or set up a move... .....all while he's working hours that seem inhumane.

She welcomes neighbors that don't welcome her.
She hates being the new girl, but does it with grace.
 Locates a house in the desert, The Arctic, Or the deep south.
And learns to call them all 'home'.
She MAKES them all home.

Construction Wives are somewhat hasty...
They leap into:
Decorating,
Leadership,
Volunteering,
Career alternatives,
Churches,
And friendships. They don't have 15 years to get to know people.
Their roots are short but flexible.
They plant annuals for themselves and perennials for those who come after them.

Construction Wives quickly learn to value each other:
They connect over coffee,
Rely on the each other, like others rely on their families,
Accept offers of friendship and favors.
Record addresses in pencil...

Construction Wives have a common bond:
The Construction Wife has a husband unlike other husbands; his commitment is unique.
He doesn't have a 'JOB'
He has a 'career' that from the outside can look like he's a work-aholic...
 But every hour he puts in is for his family's future.
A Construction Wife knows she can't make plans around his schedule, he may work late every night for two months straight.
A Construction Wife has sat quietly more than once trying to figure out how bad a job site accident is just by the tone of her husband's voice on the phone.
A construction Wife makes hospital visits, sets up meal trains for the hurt, and helps in fund raising to get families through hard times.
 She is the long- distance link to her family and  keeps them informed;
the glue that holds them together.


A Construction Wife has her moments:
She wants to wring his neck;
 Paint his hard hat pink;
Refuse to move to Siberia;
But she pulls herself together.
Give her a few days,
A travel brochure,
A long hot bath,
A glass of wine,
A wedding picture,
And she goes.
She packs.
She moves.
She follows.

Why?
What for?
How come?
You may think it is because she has lost her mind.
But actually it is because she has lost her heart.
It was stolen from her by a man,
Who puts his family first by being the first to work every morning and the last to leave at night,
Who hates the strain his job puts on his family,
Who lets her cry,
Who builds the things that you take for granted and she doesn't understand,
 And whose boots in the doorway and lunch box on the counter remind her that as long as he is her Construction Husband,
She will remain his Construction Wife.
And would have it no other way.

Practice does not make perfect

   I left a five mile zig-zag trail of snot, sweat, spit and tears through my neighborhood today.  I ran as long as I could, I walked when the stitch in my side took my breath, but my heart still hurts.  I dead lifted more today than I have ever lifted, I used every muscle in my body to move weight, but my heart still hurts.  I cleaned and breathed Lysol til all the dirt and grime were wiped away and everything looked perfect, but my heart still hurts. 
    I've done this before, I've told you good bye.  I've moved to a new place and met a new girl before.  I've spent time with you til you became my family.  I've made more best friends than any one person deserves and told them all goodbye before, but my heart still hurts.  You are in Kentwood, you are in Utah, you are in North Carolina, you are in Cartersville, and you are moving to West Virginia and Michigan.  I've hugged you and promised nothing will change knowing full well it will.  Life will get in the way.  Kids and husbands will need us, groceries don't buy themselves, errands will need to be run.   Life will become the new normal, but deep down my heart will still hurt. 
     Even when we don't talk you are in my thoughts.  The memories of growing up together flash through my day.  I see you in my children and I miss you.  I remember learning to be a wife with you.  I loved having you in the whirlwind of being a first time mom.  I leaned on you when I miscarried.  I cried on your shoulder over silly things.  You were the first one I told I was pregnant again.  We tried out recipes on each other, had too many play dates to count.  You ran my first race with me.  We packed pic-nicks and laid in the sun together while the kids splashed in the lake.  We let our kids fight like cousins and love each other like siblings.  I was one of the first to hold your sweet baby. 
     We have never once run out of things to talk about, and I love you for it.  I love you for simply being you.  I love you for listening to me grumble and gripe.  I love you for talking me down off the ledge when the world piles on my shoulders.  I love you for letting me know I am not alone in the battle field that is Motherhood.  We have laughed enough for two life times. Even when you didn't know it you helped me through every single day. You are my sister wife and I thank you for that. 
    I hope you forgive me for my lack of grace when it comes to goodbye.  Practice does not make perfect when it comes to this.  I've told my best friend goodbye more times than I care to count.  I will cry when we hug.  I will miss your kids just as much as I miss you.  No matter where we both live I will always be your chick.  No matter how much time passes we will talk just like I am standing beside you in your kitchen.  My heart is strong and it holds you so tight you couldn't escape me if you tried.  So we'll get this goodbye over with quick, like ripping a band aid.  I'll walk away and break down in my car around the corner.  We will do this and know that some things will change but know you will always be my best friend. 

Yet Have Believed

    My Sweetness brought home big boxes of stuff this week.   This is the time at the end of each job that I know that it is really about to be over.  Usually when he unloads boxes from his truck and brings in the contents from his office I am boxing everything up too so it isn't so out of place.  This time it seems weird, like he's getting ready to move but the rest of us aren't.  I guess that  is exactly what is happening I'm just not able to process it yet.  Every time he brings in the contents of his office I get a small glimpse into his daily life.  I always want to replace his pictures of the kids and marvel at how much they have grown since the last move, but now where in the world will those pictures hang next?
     I think Sweetness and the rest of PCL will be done here in Macon with in the next three weeks or so.  We have been given no word, no instructions and only have our best guess to plan around.  I like to think this situation would unhinge even the most stable of people.  Every move we have made together has been full of uncertainty, I'm trying to remind myself of that.  We are usually packing up while still not knowing where we will be moving, but at least having two or three cities of possibility.
        Right now we are not packing and going on as if we still live here.  Let me explain: Turner started baseball last night.  Why on earth would we have signed him up if we know we are done here in  Macon?  Well the kids and I aren't done here it seems.  I have not "broken up" with Macon.  This is my silly way of explaining the complex emotional process of letting go of a place that up to this point I have fought to make feel like my home.  It's a process, it creeps up slowly.  The last day of summer I said goodbye to going to the pool, knowing I would never see it again.  It's little things that people mention, "Next year we'll do this again..." about BB Q's, summer camps, get togethers, that I just smile and nod but inside I know we won't be here for.  I've been in the process of breaking up for a while now.  I have to do it to be at peace, and now Macon and I making up.  I am going to drive through the clouds of cherry blossoms again, I think my kids will get to swim with their friends for one more summer, I'm being tantalized with keeping most of what is wonderful about living here.   But what about my Sweetness?  What about my best friend and her daughters who I love like my family?
     My friend Dana gave me a life line.  She saw me struggling with a situation bigger than my capabilities and handed me Streams in the Dessert.  It has been rocking my world ever since.  I'm not sure if I am understanding each mornings lesson, but I am hearing what I need from each.  It isn't a flowery, lengthy devotional that plays up only Gods love and that your life will be all sunshine and roses because you believe.  This book is showing me that waiting, trials and the blows that life gives you are like strikes from a chisel.  My sculptor has to strike blows to shape me into what he means for me to be.  Waiting while not knowing can be a testimony.  Waiting itself is not punishment, it is an opportunity to listen, a chance to show faith.  I am struggling to find the balance of praying like a child, petitioning God with my hearts needs, and believing that what I have asked for in prayer because I believe will be mine.  I guess this whole faith thing is far more complex than I could ever hope to understand.  I am trying to know that the lack of information we have about our future is not a lack of God.  He loves me, He knows where and when we are going, and just because He hasn't given me a sign or showed me the path we will go down does not mean He won't, it just means I may not be ready to see it yet.
       My heart is hopeful today.  I'm still scared of the day Brad calls to tell me when he'll be leaving.  I'm in denial that my West by God Virginia coal miners daughter is packing her house and getting ready to move and  taking two little blond pieces of my heart with her.  Maybe I am supposed to learn what it feels like when someone leaves.  I am always the one to leave my friends, I've never felt it from the other side.  I am usually wrapped up in my own ordeal of relocating, and sad because I am leaving my whole life, I've never had to go through my best friend moving on and leaving me.  Is this what I need to learn?  Is God trying to teach me how to be a better friend?  I have no idea.  Is my husband leaving to work in another country going to show me how to be a better wife?  I hope so, I hope they are lessons.  If it's a lesson it means there is life to be lived on the other side of the lesson.  We will all make it through this, even if right now it feels hopeless.  I'm ready to rip this band aid off.  Just get he hurt over with, but I am meant to wait. I will be repeating "Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed." over and over.  I need to have better faith.  God has heard me, He knows when to tell us what we should know.  He knows my heart, and when it needs to love more and love better.  He keeps cramming people in my life that I didn't expect.  He keeps giving me family where ever I land and still I question Him and His timing.  I am learning to Yet Have Believed. 
    

Dirt and Sweat

    I am clearly in a funk, and not sure how to get out of it.  I don't write much when I'm happy, I'm not trying to get dialogue out of my head when I am happy.  When I am pissy I pour things out hoping to make room for the happy to come back.  I wish I ran.  I always think that if I liked to run I could go for a long run and clear my head.  Alas, I hate running.  I wish I was a shopper, I could go loose myself in a store and zone out but that's not me either.  If I were a guy I would go out and pick fights, punch out my frustration.
     I need dirt and sweat. I need to work myself hard enough to tire myself out.  I don't know if I found the gym or the gym found me, but it is as holy as any cathedral in my mind.  I can push and grunt and move weight til I feel better.  My favorite movie quote is from Legally Blond  "Exercise gives you endorphins. Endorphins make you happy. Happy people don't shoot their husbands, they just don't."   Elle Woods was on to something.  I work out to be a better mother and wife. I have a lot of mean in me.  I need to exercise my demons, its the only way they let me sleep.  Right now my steady work out just isn't enough.  I need dirt under my nails, an aching back, and sweat, lots and lots of sweat. 
    I raked leaves for four hours today.  I bagged twenty-two bags of leaves today, and it felt good.  I need to quiet my head, shut down all that is driving me mad.   My life feels out of control, no I don't know when I'm moving, no I don't know where I'm moving or if my husband will move with us.  This lack of control really sets me off.  So if I run out of leaves at my house, I may show up in your yard.  What I wouldn't give for a downed tree and an axe.
      Some of my happiest and most comforting memories are full of dirt and sweat.  I am six or seven years old walking barefoot down just plowed  rows of our garden.  I follow behind my Dad, he pokes planting holes in the top of the rows and I count out three seeds and drop them in then cover them with dirt.  It's hot and smells like fresh earth, and all is at peace in my life.  I am a fourteen year old girl and I work for my Dad surveying.  I have my own machete, I know how to sharpen it and what angle to swing it to cut a line through Louisiana thickets and briar patches.  We leave at day light and work til dusk.  It smells like tree bark, sweat, and hot musty air trapped in thick woods.  Saturdays are my favorite day of the week because I get to work and spend the day with my dad.  At the end of every work day I appreciate money and baths more than I ever thought I could, and all is at peace in my world.  I am a sixteen year old and I am at church during the summer, I am cutting the shrubs and hedges from around the church, raking and hauling off limbs.  Standing outside of the church knowing that its beauty, for most, is held on the inside where light streams through stained glass. But what I need most is the outside, the work, the feeling of sun burnt shoulders and a tiredness earned through hard work, and all is at peace in my world.
     Today I tackled my front yard, maybe tomorrow I will start on the back yard.  Maybe I'll sleep good tonight.  Maybe between the gym this morning, and the time spent cleaning out yet another closet, all added to the wondrous work of raking leaves maybe it's all enough to tire me out. 
     Thanks Dad for always letting me work with you, thank you for never treating me like a girl, thank you for letting me try to keep up with you.  Thank you for teaching me the value of dirt and sweat.  Sometimes the only way I can handle myself isn't by talking, it's by shutting out the world and working, thank you for showing me how.



It's Just One Summer in Phoenix...

   When Brad and I got married there wasn't much work to be found in Louisiana.  We got married on December twenty-ninth, and by April he was on his way to  a job in Phoenix, AZ.  I really didn't want him to go.  I was in school and had never thought about moving away from my family, but we were married and he was my new family.  So we talked and he told me "Just come on out here.  It's just one summer in Phoenix."  So I have been living one endless summer in Phoenix for ten years now.  I wouldn't go back and change the path we've been on.  We have had to rely on each other in a way I don't think we would have if we had stayed in Louisiana.   I have never regretted stepping into my one summer in Phoenix. 
      The end of Sweetness' job is here in Macon.  We've known since we got here that February 2012 would be the close of this chapter.  But I am having a really hard time because there doesn't seem to be a next page written.  We are living in limbo and it's very uncomfortable.  I have tried not to worry about where and when  we will be moving for most of our stay here.  But February is just two weeks away, I can hold the worry off no more.  Brad will close this job out, so he may be here as long as March, but then what?  We usually have somewhere to start thinking about moving to, hear of jobs, and have cities to look up on line and start learning about.  But I don't have a city to start piling hopes on to this time.  There aren't rumors of jobs in other parts of the US, there are only goodbyes being said to friends leaving for Canada.
      I am more than willing to move to Canada with my husband, that is not the problem.  The problem is the jobs going on aren't ones your family  comes with you to.  Brad tries to keep me from worrying, he told me "It's just a few months in Canada".  I can't hear that from him.  I want to stay in my summer in Phoenix.  I want to see him every night, pray and eat at the same dinner table, listen to him read bedtime stories to the kids and lay down next to him every night.  Our life is not a fairy tale, we fight, we get irritated with each other, but we joke that everything is just about perfect 92% of the time.  We are finally getting better at talking to each other, he can't be sent away now.  I am trying to concentrate on being thankful he has a good job in this terrible economy, but I am selfish and childish and I want what I want.  What I want is a home, no matter how big or small, no matter in what part of the world just as long as it holds my children and my husband we will be fine. 
     Everything in me is scared to death of "Just a few months in Canada".  What if that is how it starts?  He does one four or five month job, then gets sent to another temporary job again and again.  Yes I will see him every couple of weeks, but that a family does not make.  I can't see him every day, remind him to take his vitamins, fuss at him for not eating more vegetables and all the other things I like to do that annoy him.  He won't be here to make me go to sleep, check on noises in the night, or warm my feet up when it's cold.  Marriage is not a certificate or a box checked off on a form, it's a collection of mundane and ordinary shared moments that when all thrown together become wonderful.  My favorite times are Sunday afternoons in the summer sitting on the front porch talking with the kids, or when he puts the kids to bed a little early just so we can have a few more minutes of time alone.  How do you maintain that in two different countries? 
      I know I am borrowing trouble, as my mother would say,  but there aren't any other things to fill my hopes with.  I am extremely lucky to have the girlfriends I do, they listen, encourage and help me through this.  Two of them are living this with me right now, waiting to know where their husbands will go and what path their families will take.  I am struggling to keep the days going as normal as I can.  I'm cleaning out all of our house, getting ready.  Any day now Brad could tell me he's being sent or that we are all moving.  I feel as if I am pushed to the edge of a cliff  and I am blindfolded, I know I have to go over the edge, I am just waiting on fate to push and hoping the bottom isn't too far down.    Where ever we land I hope it is still summer, I hope the warmth of  Phoenix is still with us.  I am not ready to even try just a few months in Canada apart,  I need the that imaginary sun on my skin and my Sweetness by my side.