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!
Monday, July 9, 2012
Friday, July 6, 2012
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.
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.
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
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.
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
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.
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.
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
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.
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.
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
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.
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.
Saturday, February 18, 2012
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.
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.
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