What do you do when you have gotten your heart’s desire? I mean when you have honestly had a real, spoken, heartfelt prayer answered? The kind of thing that you have wished, hoped, and truly prayed about for years? That is the kind of situation I find myself in today. And it all happened less than 24 hours ago. And, I’m still trying to wrap my head, and my heart, around this amazing turn of events.
Many people on the face of this Earth take their friends, and most friendships, for granted. They have seen the same people day in and day out for many years, if not their entire lives, and are used to having these people in their world. But, there are some of us who have had the good (?) fortune to have lived in many different places in the world, and have met many different people. Some good, some not so great, but many that have become friends. People that have shared some common bonds; school, work, travel, children. There are as many different bases for friendships as there are people. As time goes on, and you move on from your current life and situation, you find that some of these friendships just don’t feel relevant any longer, so these people slip through your fingers and out of your life.
I know this has certainly happened to me, and for the most part I just think about most of these folks once in a while and hope that they are ‘doing well’. The basic things that we all wish for; good health, great kids, good jobs. But then there are people that we have let slip away and we live to regret letting them go so casually. I am thinking specifically about my absolute best friend, Michele.
I met Michele the first week of 8th grade, in the girls locker room at school. We had gym lockers next to each other, and we started talking after class. And we never seemed to stop. Except for when we were laughing, which was quite often. And over the same things that school girls have laughed about for ‘always’. I can’t name anything in particular, but I know it was just every day living. School, boys, parents, other people at school. Michele was a person who totally ‘got’ me, and I never had to explain. And neither did she. The term ‘soul mate’ is used quite often, but she truly is mine.
Well, ‘is’ may be a bit premature. We haven’t spoken to each other in over 30 years, so using the present tense may be a bit presumptuous, but hopefully not. Especially when it comes to describing a soul mate, once you find them then that should be the end of it. Having that kind of connection should be for ever, right?
The coolest part is that my prayers have been answered. After my years of searching on the internet, and even just plain looking in phone books, SHE found ME. And I couldn’t be happier. Not just ‘oh, how nice..’ kind of happy. No, this is a deep and profound happiness that I have never experienced before. I now know that she is well, she is happy, and that she is the same Michele that I knew. And, I have reaffirmation that God does indeed love me (forgive me, but I’m only human and have my tiny doubts sometimes.) He answered my prayer. It took a while, but he did. And I know not to question his time line, he did it for a particular reason, so I’m going with it.
Post ed: I wrote this some time ago, but have just now gotten around to posting it here. In that time Michele and I have spoken often, and it is indeed like we have never been apart. There is this gap of our lives that we can't get back, but there is a part of me that doesn't care. We have said so much that is still true today, and even though we have both lived a lot of life Michele is still much the same as she was back in high school. I will say that there are days when things are not going well, and all I have to do is think about Michele and how she is really IN my life again and I'm happy. The bad stuff doesn't seem so bad, it's all thrown into perspective. I hope that if Michele reads this, as well as Betsy, Debbie and Kathy, that they all know I am only a phone call away. That is such a blessing to be able to have again. Thank you all for blessing me with your friendship.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Unfounded Fears...
What is there to be afraid of? I'm not too sure anymore. And that is kind of an interesting thing. When we are young we all have many of the same fears; spiders, weird foods, monsters under the bed or in our closets. They seem to be very concrete and real, but when we get older we see that they really aren't. When we get older we get to see what REAL fears can be.
The older I get the more I know that what I was afraid of when I was young were really silly things, because these days my friends and I have experienced real fears; the possibility of not raising happy and healthy children, divorce, facing bankruptcy and losing the very home we live in, the death of loved ones. Those are certainly tangible fears that (unfortunately) many of us do have experience with. So, if we ever get to look back on our childhood fears we can laugh at them for the 'silly' things they are. But, they show us where we were at that time in life - young and innocent.
Right now I'm thinking specifically about looking back at people I used to know, and have lost touch with (until recently). People that I was extremely tight with when I was young, but I don't really know now. I know my high school years were, for the most part, not the best. I was never a jock, I was never popular, and I wasn't thought to be overly intelligent. When I graduated from high school I was mighty happy to exit those front doors and I've not ever really looked back. And that includes the usual- Christmas cards, reunions, and such. I have never done those things. I didn't keep in touch with anyone that I was so very involved with back then. I'm not sure why, but I just didn't feel the need, or desire, to. So, I didn't. That is until now.
As you know from a previous entry, I just recently found some of my dearest friends from high school. It's been about six weeks or so since I found Betsy and Kathy. And it's been really great- it's not like we have been apart for thirty plus years. There has been no judging, no one uppmanship, not any of the things that I was afraid would take place. And now we have found Debbie.
Last night Betsy, Kathy, and Debbie had dinner together. I wasn't there because I am all the way across the country from them. But I was there in spirit, and all of them knew it. Betsy made sure that pictures were shared, and my last entry here was printed and given. And I think it was all good, at least it seemed that way when they phoned me from the restaurant. That was so cool. Then this morning Betsy posted the pictures from last night, and that is when I realized all of this. And it dawned on me; just what exactly in the world are we so afraid of, anyway?
Did all of us think that we were the only ones left behind in the dust? That we were the only ones who were going to experience life and grow old while everyone around us had stayed young? I know that for myself I just figured that I would schlub along in life, doing what I do while everyone else I know went on live some sort of fabulous life. Hmmmm, didn't seem to happen that way at all. It appears that everyone else got busy living life, too. My friends grew up, they got older, but for some reason they weren't living any 'overly fabulous' lifestyles like I had imagined. Sure, we all are pretty happy with life- we are still breathing, we have families and love in our lives, and we are looking forward to what is in store next. I'm not sure what else there is there for us, but we are going to take it all one day at a time, just like we always have. We will continue to live our usual lives, doing our usual things. Nothing glamorous, nothing over the top. Just the usual.
I think that we have all figured out the solution to those childhood fears, I know I have. I learned that I am bigger than spiders and can smash them at will, I learned that some 'weird' food is really tasty, and I have confronted those damned monsters under the bed- they were really dust bunnies, after all. And I know that I have confronted one other real fear; the fear that all the people I grew up with went on to live some sort of big life that I would be excluded from, that I would somehow not understand or fit into. I'm glad to say that fear was completely unfounded, and I'm glad to find this out now. I guess that's what happens when you grow up - you face your fears and you get on with life. Yes, it's the way of the world.
P.S. There is one more thing to add to this self-realization, that I am not alone in this journey. I know that I now have three additional friends to turn to if I need them. And the same holds true for any one of them, I'm here if you need me. Don't hesitate to talk, I look forward to it.
Sunday, March 1, 2009
In My Life...
(Lennon/McCartney)
There are places I remember
All my life though some have changed
Some forever not for better
Some have gone and some remain
All these places have their moments
With lovers and friends I still can recall
Some are dead and some are living
In my life I've loved them all
But of all these friends and lovers
There is no one compares with you
And these memories lose their meaning
When I think of love as something new
Though I know I'll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I'll often stop and think about them
In my life I love you more
Though I know I'll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I'll often stop and think about them
In my life I love you more
In my life I love you more
There are places I remember
All my life though some have changed
Some forever not for better
Some have gone and some remain
All these places have their moments
With lovers and friends I still can recall
Some are dead and some are living
In my life I've loved them all
But of all these friends and lovers
There is no one compares with you
And these memories lose their meaning
When I think of love as something new
Though I know I'll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I'll often stop and think about them
In my life I love you more
Though I know I'll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I'll often stop and think about them
In my life I love you more
In my life I love you more
I've spent this weekend reviewing and reliving my long ago past. It was unexpected, and has been pretty wonderful, for the most part. Which has surprised me. When I would think about these most formative years, 12-15, I got kind of nostalgic, but not so much that it made me want to reconnect with my friends. I used to think that they probably wouldn't really remember me very well, and certainly wouldn't have time for me. I have been pleasantly surprised to find that they think of me as fondly as I do them. Which is nice.
I've been trying to figure out why all this means so much to me now. I'm sure that in every one's life there comes that division; the 'before' and the 'after' they 'grew up'. These kids were certainly the best part of my 'before' I had to grow up. Michele, Kathy, Betsy, Debbie, Steve, Arnold- they were a part of a wonderful time in my life when I had no responsibilities. We did all the crazy stuff that kids our age did- ditched school together, hung out together, laughed almost too much together. These people were of a like mind, and they were there to lend a sympathetic ear in the way that only your best friends can. They say that your teen years are all about fitting in with your peers. If you did then it was all good. I guess I must have fit in pretty well, because it seems like it was indeed 'all good'. That must be why I remember that time so fondly. I think that I've been looking for the same kind of friendship ever since.
Sure, as time went on I have developed other friendships, but they seemed to be based on much different criteria; summer friendships that don't stand the test of Wintertime, college friendships born from late nights studying and drinking. All my adult friendships haven't had to test any real boundaries- especially after I married my best friend. I certainly didn't need to look outside my marriage for tight friendship then. But all those friendships don't compare to the friendship that I had when I was a young teenager. That must be why I remember that time so fondly.
We get so busy with the task of living our lives that we can and do easily lose focus- on what is important in our lives, and what our past was and how it can teach us in our present. I've been very lucky this weekend, I've rediscovered that it's a really good thing to have friends and it's great to be able to look back and relive some of the happiest times I'll ever know with some pretty terrific people; and it seems like the older the friends the better it is. I can't go back and relive my teen years, God knows I really don't want to. But, I'm really glad that I can revisit them now and know that I'm not the only one who appreciates those times like I do. Thanks, Betsy.
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Gifts-
This is certainly the biggest time of year for gifts. The Christmas holiday season seems to be surrounded by the notion of 'giving' some sort of gift. And of course over the years the gifts have become more and more materialistic. As humans we tend to evolve into 'more and more' and in the gift giving department that is certainly true. The first gifts were supposed to be symbolic gifts that the Magi gave to the Christ Child. We are supposed to emulate that every year, but it has kind of gotten out of hand, at least to my way of thinking.
The Christmas holidays of one hundred years ago were certainly different from modern times, I'm sure. There was no choice to but to make them very personal and 'home made'. There were almost no other alternatives, so people made the holiday themselves. Everything from the decorations they chose to decorate their homes with to the gifts they made, and the food that was prepared and spread out for their families. Everything was more important then, as it took a lot of time to make gifts and to put together the makings of a great feast. These days it's all about the 'instant' of anything.
We can shop online and have something delivered to our friends and family within 24 hours, and we can even get gift cards to give on our way to a friend's holiday party. Food- it doesn't have to have much thought put into it. That is another stop on the way home from work. Instant, and not much work. And sure, it's nice and it's filling, but it's not very special. Not what this holiday truly commands.
So, with all of this 'quickness' in our lives where does the feeling and thought come into our gift giving? Do people ever take the time to really find just the perfect gift to give, then anticipate the giving? Do you remember finding that great gift and really being excited about giving it? Do you remember hoping that the lucky person who was going to receive your well thought intentions really loved what you found? I certainly do. And I have been on both sides of that experience.
When I was ten years old I got a ten-speed bicycle. I couldn't believe it was under the tree, I was so excited to get it. I thanked my mom and dad, only to be told that they didn't have anything to do with it. My older brother had worked an after school job so I could have that bike that Christmas. I couldn't believe it, and even today that gift given from my brother's heart is my absolute favorite gift ever given to me. I feel so very lucky to have felt my brother's love back then.
I have also given many gifts that I hoped would please. I would buy things for my kids, early in the season, and wrap them and place them under the tree. As it got closer to Christmas Day, and I thought about what was waiting under the tree, I got more and more excited for Christmas morning. Not so I could get anything myself- nothing except the look of joy and happiness on my children's faces as they saw the presents that 'Santa' had left for them under the Christmas tree. I hope that as my children get older they are going to be anxious to experience this kind of gift giving, too. It really is 'more blessed to give than to receive'.
So, what about the ultimate gift this season? Is it really a new Maserati or great diamond bracelet? Um, I don't think so. I don't have a Maserati in my driveway, and my diamond bracelet is nice, but it doesn't bring me the happiness that I thought I would get by owning it. What kind of gift would I love to receive this Christmas? I already have it, and am reminded of it by the holiday itself. I have the gift of God's love; embodied in the form of a tiny baby born on this most holy of nights. The absolute ultimate gift- "God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son." There is no better gift than to be reminded that I am loved. The kind of love that is perfection in and of itself. It can't be bested. No matter how hard we humans may try, it just won't ever be any better than it is right now, at this moment; 12:07 am, December 25, 2008. Merry Christmas to all. I wish you all Peace, Love, and the many Blessings of this most joyous of seasons.
The Christmas holidays of one hundred years ago were certainly different from modern times, I'm sure. There was no choice to but to make them very personal and 'home made'. There were almost no other alternatives, so people made the holiday themselves. Everything from the decorations they chose to decorate their homes with to the gifts they made, and the food that was prepared and spread out for their families. Everything was more important then, as it took a lot of time to make gifts and to put together the makings of a great feast. These days it's all about the 'instant' of anything.
We can shop online and have something delivered to our friends and family within 24 hours, and we can even get gift cards to give on our way to a friend's holiday party. Food- it doesn't have to have much thought put into it. That is another stop on the way home from work. Instant, and not much work. And sure, it's nice and it's filling, but it's not very special. Not what this holiday truly commands.
So, with all of this 'quickness' in our lives where does the feeling and thought come into our gift giving? Do people ever take the time to really find just the perfect gift to give, then anticipate the giving? Do you remember finding that great gift and really being excited about giving it? Do you remember hoping that the lucky person who was going to receive your well thought intentions really loved what you found? I certainly do. And I have been on both sides of that experience.
When I was ten years old I got a ten-speed bicycle. I couldn't believe it was under the tree, I was so excited to get it. I thanked my mom and dad, only to be told that they didn't have anything to do with it. My older brother had worked an after school job so I could have that bike that Christmas. I couldn't believe it, and even today that gift given from my brother's heart is my absolute favorite gift ever given to me. I feel so very lucky to have felt my brother's love back then.
I have also given many gifts that I hoped would please. I would buy things for my kids, early in the season, and wrap them and place them under the tree. As it got closer to Christmas Day, and I thought about what was waiting under the tree, I got more and more excited for Christmas morning. Not so I could get anything myself- nothing except the look of joy and happiness on my children's faces as they saw the presents that 'Santa' had left for them under the Christmas tree. I hope that as my children get older they are going to be anxious to experience this kind of gift giving, too. It really is 'more blessed to give than to receive'.
So, what about the ultimate gift this season? Is it really a new Maserati or great diamond bracelet? Um, I don't think so. I don't have a Maserati in my driveway, and my diamond bracelet is nice, but it doesn't bring me the happiness that I thought I would get by owning it. What kind of gift would I love to receive this Christmas? I already have it, and am reminded of it by the holiday itself. I have the gift of God's love; embodied in the form of a tiny baby born on this most holy of nights. The absolute ultimate gift- "God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son." There is no better gift than to be reminded that I am loved. The kind of love that is perfection in and of itself. It can't be bested. No matter how hard we humans may try, it just won't ever be any better than it is right now, at this moment; 12:07 am, December 25, 2008. Merry Christmas to all. I wish you all Peace, Love, and the many Blessings of this most joyous of seasons.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
In Mourning...
A friend of mine's father passed away this morning. It was quite expected, this gentleman was almost 94 and had been in declining health for several years. He was blind, and had a tumor the size of a grapefruit on his kidney. It was cancerous, but it didn't seem to spread to other parts of his body. The doctors were watching the tumor to see what would happen, they were hesitant to operate due to his advanced years. It was certainly time for him to depart this Earth. I feel a connection to him, as my husband and I purchased his family home from him a few years ago. He and his wife lived there for fifty years or so.
That isn't the main part of this. We all lose family members, it is to be expected. The only thing I really fear on this Earth is having my children die before I do. I'm not sure I could cope with it, and don't want to have to experience life without either one of them. Doing something drastic in reaction to a child's death isn't fair to the one left behind, so I would HAVE to live without one of them. It's just a hard situation that no one ever wants to face.
I tend to go through my life just like most folks- I take for granted the day to day interactions with my children. I love them to the best of my abilities, and hope that it is what they need. What I'm really discussing today is that I want them to look back at our time together here and see that it was good. I think it is. It's the best I can give them, no matter what else happens.
The time is going to come when I will pass on. I may go suddenly, or I may linger for a few years, like my friend's father. I think we all hope to pass on quickly; the suddeness of it can be harsh, but I'm sure I prefer that to watching and waiting. My mother died of cancer, and it wasn't nice to witness. I'm sure while she was ill she thought of her mortality every single day. The not knowing part is what is so tough for me. So, when I have to go I hope I drop of a sudden heart attack or something like that. Quick, to the point, and then done and over. I would like my family to get over my death and get back to the business of living as soon as possible. They have their own lives to live and don't need the life interruption that a parent who is in a long slow decline can provide. It's just really spiritually draining for the family to witness, if they are a close-knit family and really care.
Which is what I hope I have created here with my time on Earth, I hope that my family is really close-knit. I have always thought that the measure of how much I am loved is how I am mourned when I die. And I won't know that, will I? I hope that after I am gone that whenever my children speak of me they do so with much love and affection in their hearts and phrases. If I'm doing everything right on Earth then immediately after I'm gone they will have a hard time speaking about me, but as time goes on the good stories and affection that we shared will come through. I hope that it is conveyed to my grandchildren and to their friends.
I want to be missed, and I want to be mourned. It is kind of a novel idea for me- as I never mourned my father or my stepfather. Which is sad. It says to me that we didn't have a good relationship during our time here on Earth, and that is just a really hard thing to realize. They didn't take the opportunity to really know me, and I'm realizing that I am kind of a good person to know. It is their loss, and I do feel sorry for them and what we could have had.
I came to this theory after my mother passed away. I didn't realize that mourning would be something that I would do, I just never thought about it. But I honestly do mourn her. I miss my mother every single day. So, that tells me that even though we did have our problems and issues we really did love each other. And so, I do speak well of her. You have read here how I have had to integrate her life lessons into my life in a meaningful way. It can be hard at times, but it is worth the personal discovery when you do find out what someone's impact has had on you. And my mother's impact was a positive one.
So, I will continue to mourn my mother. I will miss her and speak well of her. It is what is due her now that she is in Heaven. And yes, I do believe she is there. Intent is at the heart of our Christian beliefs, and her intent was pure. So, she is with God. I'm sure of this.
As for my friend's father: I didn't know him that well, so I'm not sure how he is going to be remembered by his family. I only hope that his children and grandchildren will mourn his passing. I hope they will pause to remember the good times that they shared with him, and they will try to learn positive lessons from knowing him. I hope that they will think of him often and pray for his soul to enter the Kingdom of Heaven. I've found that it isn't sad to mourn someone when they die. It is really a good and positive thing. So, Mr. Hunt may you rest in peace.
That isn't the main part of this. We all lose family members, it is to be expected. The only thing I really fear on this Earth is having my children die before I do. I'm not sure I could cope with it, and don't want to have to experience life without either one of them. Doing something drastic in reaction to a child's death isn't fair to the one left behind, so I would HAVE to live without one of them. It's just a hard situation that no one ever wants to face.
I tend to go through my life just like most folks- I take for granted the day to day interactions with my children. I love them to the best of my abilities, and hope that it is what they need. What I'm really discussing today is that I want them to look back at our time together here and see that it was good. I think it is. It's the best I can give them, no matter what else happens.
The time is going to come when I will pass on. I may go suddenly, or I may linger for a few years, like my friend's father. I think we all hope to pass on quickly; the suddeness of it can be harsh, but I'm sure I prefer that to watching and waiting. My mother died of cancer, and it wasn't nice to witness. I'm sure while she was ill she thought of her mortality every single day. The not knowing part is what is so tough for me. So, when I have to go I hope I drop of a sudden heart attack or something like that. Quick, to the point, and then done and over. I would like my family to get over my death and get back to the business of living as soon as possible. They have their own lives to live and don't need the life interruption that a parent who is in a long slow decline can provide. It's just really spiritually draining for the family to witness, if they are a close-knit family and really care.
Which is what I hope I have created here with my time on Earth, I hope that my family is really close-knit. I have always thought that the measure of how much I am loved is how I am mourned when I die. And I won't know that, will I? I hope that after I am gone that whenever my children speak of me they do so with much love and affection in their hearts and phrases. If I'm doing everything right on Earth then immediately after I'm gone they will have a hard time speaking about me, but as time goes on the good stories and affection that we shared will come through. I hope that it is conveyed to my grandchildren and to their friends.
I want to be missed, and I want to be mourned. It is kind of a novel idea for me- as I never mourned my father or my stepfather. Which is sad. It says to me that we didn't have a good relationship during our time here on Earth, and that is just a really hard thing to realize. They didn't take the opportunity to really know me, and I'm realizing that I am kind of a good person to know. It is their loss, and I do feel sorry for them and what we could have had.
I came to this theory after my mother passed away. I didn't realize that mourning would be something that I would do, I just never thought about it. But I honestly do mourn her. I miss my mother every single day. So, that tells me that even though we did have our problems and issues we really did love each other. And so, I do speak well of her. You have read here how I have had to integrate her life lessons into my life in a meaningful way. It can be hard at times, but it is worth the personal discovery when you do find out what someone's impact has had on you. And my mother's impact was a positive one.
So, I will continue to mourn my mother. I will miss her and speak well of her. It is what is due her now that she is in Heaven. And yes, I do believe she is there. Intent is at the heart of our Christian beliefs, and her intent was pure. So, she is with God. I'm sure of this.
As for my friend's father: I didn't know him that well, so I'm not sure how he is going to be remembered by his family. I only hope that his children and grandchildren will mourn his passing. I hope they will pause to remember the good times that they shared with him, and they will try to learn positive lessons from knowing him. I hope that they will think of him often and pray for his soul to enter the Kingdom of Heaven. I've found that it isn't sad to mourn someone when they die. It is really a good and positive thing. So, Mr. Hunt may you rest in peace.
Monday, November 17, 2008
Scars...
I just got finished looking in the mirror at the makings of my newest scar. It's about four inches long and it sits right on my collarbone, just above the hollow of my throat. The incision still has the stitches and the bandage on it, that is how new it is. Why it's there doesn't really matter much. What it represents is what is important now.
We all have scars on our bodies. It's just a common fact of life, certain rites of passage. You could probably say our belly button is the first scar we receive- 'right out of the gate', so to speak. It is our indelible link to our mothers. Our 'branding', which leads us into living. I'm sure that most of us have some knee scars, scraped up knees when we were kids; learning. Learning how to catch a football, learning how to ride a bike. We probably also have scars in other places; a cut on the hand from the lid of a pet food can, the scar on your forehead where the corner of a swing hit you. Those weren't particularly fun scars to get, but we all got them and learned things like responsibility and coordination from them.
Then there are other scars, like the ones I have. I have one on the back of my left knee, it is a long distant reminder of a careless adult who was taking a nap and let a toddler get into some drain cleaner that was stored under the kitchen sink. Back when I was a baby adults didn't think of putting harmful chemicals on a high shelf in the kitchen cupboard. They didn't think about 'kidproofing' the home. Since then we have learned to be more careful.
I also have a huge scar on my stomach. It really is disfiguring, at least it is to me. It is from giving birth to my children. I didn't think much about such a thing as my own disfigurement when I was pregnant with my first child. All I could think about was having a healthy and completely whole baby. I never thought that I'd become maimed by something so natural as having a baby, but in the wee hours of the morning he was born I was. As if having this other person in my life 24/7/eternity wasn't reminder enough I carry this scar on my body. It is a corollary of our life together- having my son changed me permanently and becoming a mother is something that will never go away. I will always be a mother, that will never cease. I may be able to change my appearance some, but I'm always going to look like a mother, every time I look in the mirror that is what I will see. My plan is to have some plastic surgery on my tummy one day, it will minimize the scar, but I have the feeling the scar won't be erased completely. Which is probably alright, considering how it came to be.
Then I have my newest scar, the one mentioned above. I probably could have gone on with my life without having the surgery which leads to the new scar, but I'm not sure how great life would have been for me otherwise. Getting this scar is helping me to have better health and a better outlook on life. Even though I'm still recuperating I'm feeling excited about life. I am beginning to feel some 'zest' for living (corny word, but apt). I can see some possibilities coming along for me. Which is a great thing at this juncture in my road of life. I'm hoping that this scar heals much better than the one on my tummy. It is going to be on public display, and I don't really want a huge, ugly, shiny thing that people look at before they look at ME. That scar is NOT me, it's only a small part of what makes up my life, and certainly isn't one of the most interesting aspects of me. But, if anyone does want to know how the scar on my neck came to be I'm going to tell them I got it in a knife fight. That is way more interesting than the truth.
Everyone thinks of scars as a horrifying thing, and sometimes they are. But lots of times they are not. They can be inconvenient, sometimes painful, and ugly, too. But ultimately they are our physical proof of our very own 'life lessons'; reminders of what it takes to live life well with purpose and meaning. Everything we go through in life leaves a scar of one kind or another; how we let them heal on our bodies or in our souls is the most important lesson to be learned from these scars. They are, after all, what make us human.
We all have scars on our bodies. It's just a common fact of life, certain rites of passage. You could probably say our belly button is the first scar we receive- 'right out of the gate', so to speak. It is our indelible link to our mothers. Our 'branding', which leads us into living. I'm sure that most of us have some knee scars, scraped up knees when we were kids; learning. Learning how to catch a football, learning how to ride a bike. We probably also have scars in other places; a cut on the hand from the lid of a pet food can, the scar on your forehead where the corner of a swing hit you. Those weren't particularly fun scars to get, but we all got them and learned things like responsibility and coordination from them.
Then there are other scars, like the ones I have. I have one on the back of my left knee, it is a long distant reminder of a careless adult who was taking a nap and let a toddler get into some drain cleaner that was stored under the kitchen sink. Back when I was a baby adults didn't think of putting harmful chemicals on a high shelf in the kitchen cupboard. They didn't think about 'kidproofing' the home. Since then we have learned to be more careful.
I also have a huge scar on my stomach. It really is disfiguring, at least it is to me. It is from giving birth to my children. I didn't think much about such a thing as my own disfigurement when I was pregnant with my first child. All I could think about was having a healthy and completely whole baby. I never thought that I'd become maimed by something so natural as having a baby, but in the wee hours of the morning he was born I was. As if having this other person in my life 24/7/eternity wasn't reminder enough I carry this scar on my body. It is a corollary of our life together- having my son changed me permanently and becoming a mother is something that will never go away. I will always be a mother, that will never cease. I may be able to change my appearance some, but I'm always going to look like a mother, every time I look in the mirror that is what I will see. My plan is to have some plastic surgery on my tummy one day, it will minimize the scar, but I have the feeling the scar won't be erased completely. Which is probably alright, considering how it came to be.
Then I have my newest scar, the one mentioned above. I probably could have gone on with my life without having the surgery which leads to the new scar, but I'm not sure how great life would have been for me otherwise. Getting this scar is helping me to have better health and a better outlook on life. Even though I'm still recuperating I'm feeling excited about life. I am beginning to feel some 'zest' for living (corny word, but apt). I can see some possibilities coming along for me. Which is a great thing at this juncture in my road of life. I'm hoping that this scar heals much better than the one on my tummy. It is going to be on public display, and I don't really want a huge, ugly, shiny thing that people look at before they look at ME. That scar is NOT me, it's only a small part of what makes up my life, and certainly isn't one of the most interesting aspects of me. But, if anyone does want to know how the scar on my neck came to be I'm going to tell them I got it in a knife fight. That is way more interesting than the truth.
Everyone thinks of scars as a horrifying thing, and sometimes they are. But lots of times they are not. They can be inconvenient, sometimes painful, and ugly, too. But ultimately they are our physical proof of our very own 'life lessons'; reminders of what it takes to live life well with purpose and meaning. Everything we go through in life leaves a scar of one kind or another; how we let them heal on our bodies or in our souls is the most important lesson to be learned from these scars. They are, after all, what make us human.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Mothers...
The topic for today is Mothers. I feel qualified to write about this subject as I have had one, and I am one. There are many kinds of mothers in the Motherhood spectrum. There is one end of the spectrum where mothers try to micromanage and hover; then there is the opposite end of the spectrum- the kind of mothers that bring you into the world, then leave you to try to figure life out on your own. Most mothers fall somewhere in the middle of this range.
My mother in law is the micromanaging type. When my husband was a baby she would strap him into his bed at night, just to make sure that he didn't fall out during the night. She even sewed his baby clothes- including pockets in his little outfits. I'm sure at the time he didn't know what they were for, and probably couldn't even find them if he had wanted to. She felt that doing these things were physical proof that she loved and cared for him, she was trying to be a good mother. I'm sure that this sense of care and concern helped my husband to become the loving and compassionate man he is today.
Then there it the other end of this spectrum. I am thinking about a mother/daughter relationship that I have been witnessing for about five months now. The mother left the daughter when she was about 9 years old, and has just recently tried to come back into her child's life and become her mother again. She has failed miserably. In the ensuing eight years that the mom was gone the daughter learned how to do for herself, without her mother's guidance. I feel badly for this woman, I really ache for her. She has muffed the one pure relationship that God gives us on this Earth, and I'm not sure how she is going to ever fix it.
Then there is the topic of my own mother. I think that she falls somewhere in the middle of the 'mothering' spectrum. I honestly don't recall just climbing into my mother's lap to be held. And my mother never read a book to me at night. We didn't spend a lot of time just hanging around together because my mother wasn't a 'stay at home mom'- she had to work to put food on the table for her family. My mother was a secretary, and a damned fine one, at that. She probably knew more about her chosen field than most of the engineers she worked for. She took great pride in what she did.
My mother passed away on June 18, 1999 at approximately 10:10 pm. I had driven my family 4 days to reach her; she waited until all three of her children were with her to pass away, and even though she was in a coma she knew when we were there with her. After she passed from this Earth I kissed her forehead, then my brothers and I prayed over her and toasted her life. I miss her every single day.
But this is not to say that she and I didn't have problems. We certainly did. I had been summarily dismissed from the family home when I was 15, as I look back on that time it seems like I was 'in the way'; sending me to live with my stepfather's family was my mom' s solution to this problem. That whole experience is an entirely different story, best left to another time. Let's just say that when it happened it seemed as if my unspoken prayers had been answered- I was certainly experiencing the usual teenage angst that most kids go through- I hated my parents and couldn't even bear to be in the same room with them. So, not having to live with them seemed like a great idea at the time. After I moved, time passed and I grew used to the idea of being in the unusual situation of not living in my own home with my mother and brothers. I coped and learned to move on.
It was only after I had my first child that I realized what my mother had done. She really had chosen my stepfather over me, and I became extremely angry with her. I knew, as I held my firstborn in my arms, that I would move Heaven and Earth for him. It seemed like having him with me for eighteen years wasn't going to be nearly long enough before I had to let him move out into the world. How could my own mother have let me go when I was so young? It was a painful realization for me to come to. I couldn't help but let this anger cloud our relationship- surely there were positive lessons to be learned from my mother. It would take me a long while to figure out what they were. I never asked my mother to explain why she did the things she did, and now it's too late.
So, now I have decided that I love my mother enough to forgive her for her shortcomings. I decided that I needed to figure out what lessons she did impart to me and this is what I came up with; I learned to never quit. My mom would see a thing through to the end and wanted me to, as well. She also taught me to live with style and wit, humor was a big part of her life, and it is for me, too. She also taught me to do my best whenever I am faced with a task. It was important to her to do something well, and it's important to me, too. I have also decided that my mother loved me to the best of her ability. Was it what I needed while I was growing up? Probably not. But she still did her best, like she always taught me to do. I know for a fact that she certainly didn't hate me, and did not want to cause me harm. Almost every mother on the face of the Earth feels this way.
So, does the fact that my mother didn't sew pockets into my baby clothes mean that I should hate her? Does the fact that my mother made me grow up when I was 15 mean that she was evil? Does it mean that I am lacking in the 'mothering' department myself? I don't think so. The examples we see in our mothers actions are usually good lessons in HOW to be a mother or parent; both what we want to emulate, and what we don't want to ever become. Hopefully we can face the task of being mothers with an open mind, and in the process become the best that we can be. It's really all a mother could ever want.
My mother in law is the micromanaging type. When my husband was a baby she would strap him into his bed at night, just to make sure that he didn't fall out during the night. She even sewed his baby clothes- including pockets in his little outfits. I'm sure at the time he didn't know what they were for, and probably couldn't even find them if he had wanted to. She felt that doing these things were physical proof that she loved and cared for him, she was trying to be a good mother. I'm sure that this sense of care and concern helped my husband to become the loving and compassionate man he is today.
Then there it the other end of this spectrum. I am thinking about a mother/daughter relationship that I have been witnessing for about five months now. The mother left the daughter when she was about 9 years old, and has just recently tried to come back into her child's life and become her mother again. She has failed miserably. In the ensuing eight years that the mom was gone the daughter learned how to do for herself, without her mother's guidance. I feel badly for this woman, I really ache for her. She has muffed the one pure relationship that God gives us on this Earth, and I'm not sure how she is going to ever fix it.
Then there is the topic of my own mother. I think that she falls somewhere in the middle of the 'mothering' spectrum. I honestly don't recall just climbing into my mother's lap to be held. And my mother never read a book to me at night. We didn't spend a lot of time just hanging around together because my mother wasn't a 'stay at home mom'- she had to work to put food on the table for her family. My mother was a secretary, and a damned fine one, at that. She probably knew more about her chosen field than most of the engineers she worked for. She took great pride in what she did.
My mother passed away on June 18, 1999 at approximately 10:10 pm. I had driven my family 4 days to reach her; she waited until all three of her children were with her to pass away, and even though she was in a coma she knew when we were there with her. After she passed from this Earth I kissed her forehead, then my brothers and I prayed over her and toasted her life. I miss her every single day.
But this is not to say that she and I didn't have problems. We certainly did. I had been summarily dismissed from the family home when I was 15, as I look back on that time it seems like I was 'in the way'; sending me to live with my stepfather's family was my mom' s solution to this problem. That whole experience is an entirely different story, best left to another time. Let's just say that when it happened it seemed as if my unspoken prayers had been answered- I was certainly experiencing the usual teenage angst that most kids go through- I hated my parents and couldn't even bear to be in the same room with them. So, not having to live with them seemed like a great idea at the time. After I moved, time passed and I grew used to the idea of being in the unusual situation of not living in my own home with my mother and brothers. I coped and learned to move on.
It was only after I had my first child that I realized what my mother had done. She really had chosen my stepfather over me, and I became extremely angry with her. I knew, as I held my firstborn in my arms, that I would move Heaven and Earth for him. It seemed like having him with me for eighteen years wasn't going to be nearly long enough before I had to let him move out into the world. How could my own mother have let me go when I was so young? It was a painful realization for me to come to. I couldn't help but let this anger cloud our relationship- surely there were positive lessons to be learned from my mother. It would take me a long while to figure out what they were. I never asked my mother to explain why she did the things she did, and now it's too late.
So, now I have decided that I love my mother enough to forgive her for her shortcomings. I decided that I needed to figure out what lessons she did impart to me and this is what I came up with; I learned to never quit. My mom would see a thing through to the end and wanted me to, as well. She also taught me to live with style and wit, humor was a big part of her life, and it is for me, too. She also taught me to do my best whenever I am faced with a task. It was important to her to do something well, and it's important to me, too. I have also decided that my mother loved me to the best of her ability. Was it what I needed while I was growing up? Probably not. But she still did her best, like she always taught me to do. I know for a fact that she certainly didn't hate me, and did not want to cause me harm. Almost every mother on the face of the Earth feels this way.
So, does the fact that my mother didn't sew pockets into my baby clothes mean that I should hate her? Does the fact that my mother made me grow up when I was 15 mean that she was evil? Does it mean that I am lacking in the 'mothering' department myself? I don't think so. The examples we see in our mothers actions are usually good lessons in HOW to be a mother or parent; both what we want to emulate, and what we don't want to ever become. Hopefully we can face the task of being mothers with an open mind, and in the process become the best that we can be. It's really all a mother could ever want.
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