Mar 21, 2012
There are three of you I love like my own (well, one of you is). Each of you has enriched my life in ways you may never know. I’m blessed to be your mother, your friend, your partner in crime (or atleast, in writing about them).
I’m honored that you love me in return. That you share with me your families, your hopes, your dreams, your sorrows. We have goals. We have memories. We have fun. We work well together.
And there are times, oh so many times, that I pray for you. How I want to be a good example for you but I know sometimes I fail. Sometimes I’m immature and selfish. Sometimes I can’t give as much as I should, and sometimes I want it to be all about me.
But then I hear you’re hurting, and all I can do is cry for you, for your heartaches. And this is where I step up to the plate and offer what I have to give you: experience and (hopefully) wisdom.
In some way, each of you is suffering a broken heart. Maybe not completely; and not in the same way. Your hurts are yours. Your sorrows are individual, personal, and private. In real life, you put on a secure mask and you go through the automated functions of daily living. But something inside feels broken, damaged, or just out of sorts.
That’s okay. It’s okay to feel confused, and sad, and angry. It’s okay to wonder if your dreams will ever be reality.
But please … don’t live there. Don’t live in a fantasy land; holding out for something that might not happen, waiting for the Knight in Shining Armor to come rescue you. It’s okay to rescue yourself. It’s okay to be your own person. It’s okay to be You.
It’s okay to send yourself flowers to brighten your day. It’s okay to be disappointed and it’s okay to change your mind about what you thought you wanted in life. It’s okay to still want what you want, but don’t stop there. Don’t let the shadows throw you over. Don’t let the roadblocks stop you. Don’t dream so high that you lose sight of reality and forget to live.
There are many paths, many directions. And just because one isn’t working out the way you thought/hoped/planned… you can still get there. You can take a detour. You can take another path.
Just don’t stop.
Don’t stop believing that you’re worth everything. Everything. You’re worth attention. You’re worth flowers. You’re worth hugs and conversations and coffee dates and smiles and … everything that makes you, You.
You’re worth knowing. And sharing. And loving. And growing. And being.
And if I could make your life perfect, I would. But I’m not magical. I’m just me. I’ve been where you are. You may not think so. You may think you’re alone. You may think I’m just an Old Maid who hasn’t a clue. But you’re wrong. That’s okay, too.
Because whether you believe me or not, I’ve been there. And I’m still here.
For you.
Because I love you abundantly.
And no matter what, no matter what, YOU are worth knowing. Just as you are. But I also know you’re still growing. And I really look forward to knowing the person you’re going to be.
I love you with a Mother’s Love. A Friend’s Fierceness. A passionate, loyal, do-anything, protective, Godly love. I love you. Abundantly. No matter what.
And I always will.
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
Feb 15, 2012
Well, I did not spend it wishing upon a star or over a well.
I took advantage of being under the weather with this weather, and I stayed home and worked. Full of imagery and oxymoronic statements, aren’t I?! Yes, it was a fun wordy work day today.
I had work stuff relating to the new company, the cookbook, the first devotional/study, the blog, and general stuff around the house.
My mom gifted Dot and I with movie tickets so after school this afternoon we finally saw “The Woman in Black”. I was going to do a movie review, but I really don’t want to spoil it for anyone. So instead of a review, let me just say that if the trailers interest you at all, you have got to see this movie! Daniel Radcliffe does such an amazing job that there’s no hint of Harry Potter in his character.
When we came home, I immediately got to work again on this blog post. My three cats were so excited to see me, I’d been gone all afternoon. As I type this I have one at my feet, on at my right hip, and one taking over my left arm and keyboard. Which makes typing a bit difficult, but today’s all about L-O-V-E and I’ll take it from these great friendly felines. Dot’s two cats are around here somewhere, too.
This photo was taken a few days ago, but you get the general idea.
Dot’s on the sofa doing her homework. Sometimes Little (the Fat Cat) sits with her but tonight she was with me.
Now I’m going to take care of my Castleville Kingdom, check out my friends pins on Pinterest, and start the last story in the Narnia series. I’ve been delaying reading the story for a while, because once I’m done with this story, I’m done with the series. And that makes me sad. It’s given me a lot of inspiration for the book series with Megan. That makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. (You’re smiling at that phrase, aren’t you?!)
And that’s about all the love I can handle for one day. Happy Day after Valentine’s, everyone!
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
Nov 17, 2011
As I write this, I’m preparing for a Girls Night Out with the Dot and our Second Family.
We’re going to do what has now become a tradition: we all get together for the midnight premiere of whatever spectacular movie is being released. Tonight, it’s Breaking Dawn, Part 1.
And I’m so stinkin’ excited.
Now, I haven’t read the books. I don’t really know how it will end. I know enough. It can’t be avoided when the instant media posts all the spoilers and traps and rundowns… and I live with a teenager who chats it up with her friends. But still… I don’t really know how it will end.
That’s only part of the fun.
Another part is, well, being with the VIP and Second Family. The VIP is my best friend, Julie. “Best friend” sounds so Junior High, though. Our friendship is so much more than that. As close as we are, we keep ourselves so busy we don’t get to see each other but once or twice a month, and even then distractions like family and chores and schtuff like that tends to interrupt. We can talk for two hours on the cell phones, and the only reason we hang up is because the batteries are going dead.
Then we call each other back within five minutes just to say, “Oh, I forgot to tell you…”
I love her kids like they were my own. And they love my daughter like she’s theirs. We’re so close, that when my daughter and I have a serious discussion and I reach for the phone, she says, “Mom, please don’t call Julie now.” But I do. I get her feedback. I treasure her advice.
Julie introduced me to the delight of jalapenos in my popcorn (boy, that’ll clear out any sinus issues you may have!), and the neccesity of Isabella (my KitchenAid Artisan stand mixer). Yes, I name my appliances… what? Is that weird?
Her oldest is my Second Daughter. Our girls are twins, separated at birth and by five years. Elisa is the role model I would have chosen for Hannah, but I didn’t have to. They met at school and became friends long before I ever met Julie.
Turns out our worlds collided several times before we finally figured out we were supposed to be friends. I was the consultant at a scrapbook party they attended years ago. Julie was the choir director at my church for a few months when I was toying with the idea of re-joining. Our kids know the same people.
The week after I met Julie at bunco (we had no idea we’d met before), she saw me again at the high school football game and came over to chat. I was so embarrassed; when she left I had to ask my daughter, “Who was that?”
Julie always has a story to tell, always has a prayer to offer. She is, in her own words, “fiercely protective of family and friends”. And always, always, always corrects me when I place myself in the “friends” category. No, she corrects. Family. Always, always, always Family.
Julie keeps me grounded. I’ve learned to slow down, and when in doubt, call her first. Especially when it comes to our kids. Because I, too, am fiercely protective. But that’s not always what my daughter needs. Julie’s taught me to step back and breathe. And talk more, act less.
And that’s why I love her them. They keep us grounded. They keep us involved. They keep us in the family. No matter what.
That, and we do so much together. We don’t spend every day together. But the moments we do have, we make count. Like go to midnight movie premieres. And laugh at the same things. And watch sports. (Okay, I’m not quite as much into hockey as they are, but I’m learning. Go Maple Leafs!). Julie even rooted for the Yankees this year. That’s a big deal for her!
I look forward to these Girls Nights Out.
We don’t have to get all dolled up. But we will. Because it’s fun.
We don’t have to pretend to be anything we’re not. They love us anyway.
And the best part of tonight will be, we each have our favorite Guy Character. So there won’t be any competition (I’m all about Carlisle, just in case you were wondering).
Just a lot of great togetherness. Girl chatter like we haven’t talked in ages. And jalapenos in the popcorn.
What are friends for?
Nov 12, 2011 |
Every year on this date, I always say the same thing. “X-amount of years ago, I was thiiiis big….” and my hands extend my imaginary belly. Then I go on to tell the story that embarrasses my Dot. I think it’s every mom’s duty to share the story of childbirth with their children. Loudly. In front of their friends.
But this year, I won’t. This year, I will say only that I was once “thiiiis big”. And maybe throughout the day remind her of the pain she kept me in for six and half hours. I won’t say a word about how the day before, during a stress test, my mom who was visiting me at the hospital saw the monitor tape and we joked about the seismic activity, and then I started laughing, hard, which caused the alarms to go off… we figure it was around a 7.4.
There will be no mention about when I went home and had a cup of tea, I didn’t need a tray. I just set it on my belly. And she decided to wake up and make my tea jump like the puddle from Jurassic Park. Or how she kicked her little heel up and I would have to slam the palm of my hand into it about three times before she moved and I could breathe easy again.
Not one word to her about how, in the middle of the night, I was praising God because I slept through my first contraction and woke up only to realize something really bad just happened. And how, when I called the hospital, the conversation went something like this:
Me: I just had a contraction.
Them: How long did it last?
Me: I don’t know.
Them: You don’t know?
Me: I slept through it.
Them: You slept through it?
Me: Yes.
Them: Did you have another one?
Me: Yes.
Them: How far apart?
Me: About six minutes.
Them: Then you’re okay. You don’t have to leave for about another hour and a half.
Me: Okay, but my water just broke.
Them: You better leave now.
This is my Daughter’s birthday. And today she is 17. I can’t believe I’ve known her almost two decades.
She’s everything to me. For the past 17+ years, my life has been full of teaching and learning and loving and shouting and fixing and hugging and cooking and crying and laughing and watching and playing and holding and letting go and…. being a mom.
I’m not always the best Mom. But I’m the best Mom for her. God gave her to me. When I didn’t deserve His blessings, when I was at a crossroads and could have walked away from Him. But I didn’t. It was, in fact, being responsible for someone else, that brought me to my senses. It was being responsible for her.
No more was this world just about poor little me. Now I had to worry about Baby.
I have always been a single mom. Her dad and I just didn’t work out. It is what it is. And there’s been plenty of heartache all around that subject. But she and I… we’re doing just fine.
It’s pretty awesome to see her learn, and grow, and mature. It’s pretty sad to think my years as her Mommy are coming to a close.
This beautiful child that I have treasured, that I would die for, that I want to share with (and protect from) the world.
She is my everything.
Happy Birthday, Hannah. I luff ewe muchly.
Stunning
Nov 11, 2011 |
He said, “Follow me.” I said no.
He waited anyway.
He said, “Stay on this path.” I strayed.
He led me back.
He said, “I love you.” I pushed him away.
He loved me anyway.
He said, “I want to adopt you.” I refused.
He called me His own anyway.
He said, “I want to save you.” I laughed.
He sent His True Son to die in my place.
He said, “Let me bless you.” I ignored his gifts.
He blessed me anyway.
He said, “I will provide.” I wanted it all.
He withheld, but gave me more than I could ever need.
He said, “You are perfect.” I called Him a liar.
He never pointed out my faults.
He said, “Please be careful.” I was careless.
He was tender with me anyway.
He said, “Don’t touch that.” I broke things.
He put the pieces back together.
He said, “I forgive you.” I said, “Who asked you to?!”
He forgave me anyway.
He said, “I still love you.” I told Him to shut up.
He kept loving me anyway.
He said, “I’ll protect you.” I ran into the world.
He protected me from myself.
He said, “Look at me.” And I saw the scars.
He bled for me.
He cried for me.
He cried out to me.
And I stopped turning my back.
He asked me to follow Him.
I said yes.
And He led me.
And He forgave me.
He is so unfair.
