Like a ton of bricks

Gravity. Flattered. Pressure. Fear. Comfort. Sinking. Anticipation. Overwhelmed. Love. Anger. Gratitude. Numb. Nostalgia. Sorrow. Joy. Guilt. Heartache. Redemption.

All words that describe and define moments of this past week.

Navigating this journey of life and being an adult is trying at times. I have had the oppressive desire to shut out the world around me and just retreat. Sleep, read, and ignore the obligations I have to others, and truthfully be selfish. I want so badly to throw myself a pity party and wallow in my selfishness. But where would that get me? Certainly not forward, where I so desperately want to be.

I am an adult. As hard as it is for me to believe, for it seems like just yesterday I was in fact a selfish teenager. I have to experience adult experiences. Raising children who become teenagers with their own personalities. I have to discipline, and teach these human beings and hope that I don’t absolutely screw them up. I have a mortgage, and insurance, and a credit score. I have had to make funeral arrangements for my mother. Make difficult decisions for elderly family members. Watch people I love struggle with cancer, lose, suicide. I am going to learn the experience of caring for an adult parent. My childhood friend had to make the difficult decision to let her husband go last night after all medical options were exhausted and his body could not sustain him any longer. Long gone are the days of being care free and knowing that my only worry is homework and filling my weekend calendar with complete debauchery. I am not my only concern. This is real. The joy and heartache of the journey.

While I have been lost in the midst of chaos, I have been blessed with moments. Simple moments that have given me joy and a sense of love and gratitude. Moments where my husband allows me to cry into the hours of the night. Moments where friends send me quick messages of encouragement. Using a blend of words that bring tears to my eyes and thankfulness to my heart for their presence in my life. Messages of funny, quirkiness that make me smile. I find myself overwhelmed that a picture or phrase made little me come to ones mind. Then they took the time to share that thought with me. I received the most random message late last night. A person I went to school with, but never had the opportunity to know personally sent me a message. It was simply that they had seen pictures and heard stories of me through the years from mutual friends. They gave me some of the most incredible compliments and thought I would like to know. I was completely overwhelmed with flattery and then guilt. How often have I had the opportunity to do the same for others? More than I can count. How often have I taken advantage of that opportunity and expressed encouragement and compliments? Nearly never.

Yes I am traveling a rough road. But it not a path that has never been travelled. Many have traveled this road. And I have no doubt that I am not alone. For many have made it aware to me that they are with me, willing to carry me even should I stumble, or feel the need to fall apart. Am I extending the same? I don’t think I am. Not well enough. I may not know the extend of the weight of the burdens that one who is traveling along side is carrying. But there is no reason I can find to not offer the same love, words, thoughts, prayers and encouragement that I have been so abundantly given. I do not need to have experienced the same grief, sorrow, lose, or pain to know that others need those vital things. No longer will I take for granted those who love me. No longer will I assume that there are others doing the same in kind for them as they are doing for me.


I feel the challenge to be more aware, more willing, and be more present. I can move forward on this journey with others. There is nothing stopping me. What is stopping you?

Forward Momentum

So often in January I reflect on the previous years adventures. How I may have stumbled, how I may have grown. And likewise as a family. How my children have succeeded and how they have grown. I haven’t quite found the time to spend on reflection. Perhaps it is denial, or rather that I am so focused on the coming changes that it makes it hard to look back.

I have accepted that 2011 dealt many challenges and I had to navigate around a few delicate wounds that I was not ready to encounter. Left untreated they only festered with infection that became a hinderance to personal growth. By November, I had Jake scheduled for surgery to repair his broken hand from soccer, Madison in physical therapy for a fractured back from soccer, my sister in route to California to care for our Mom who was is in the final stages of COPD, and Aaron found me at 3 am scrubbing the vents under the fridge with a toothbrush with one hand, and my cell phone in the other. My cell phone became a permanent fixture in my hand. The anxiety that something would happen, either here or in California was overwhelming. I couldn’t sleep, my chest hurt, I felt like I couldn’t breath, I couldn’t focus and my OCD was at an all time high. Luckily, my husband is an amazing, patient man. He suggested that I talk with our doctor, who is also a friend about my panic attacks. As embarrassing as it is to admit that you have lost a portion of control is, the timing was perfect.

I started medication for generalized anxiety and a medication to help me get some sleep. Within a few weeks Jake was taken care of, Madie was done with therapy and stronger than ever. I had spoken with Mom and she had an amazing weekend out and about. We had discussed some things that she was looking forward to during my visit I had planned for January. Only 5 days later I knew it wasn’t going to be. December was a blur. And I was thankful for the chemical help as well as the calming peace that I desperately prayed for.

I had made a promise to my mom that I would personally see to it that dad was taken care of should her passing come to be. She knew as well as I did that him staying in California and living alone was not going to be an option. Now some might call it fate, but I always think that God, being all knowing like he is, granted us an incredible mercy. My father in law was putting his retirement from the printing world into motion. He has also been pastoring for a sweet country church as well. He was approached with the opportunity to take his ministry to the next level, which he prayerfully accepted. With that came the news that he and my mother in law would most likely need to move. Leaving into question their home. With a few modifications it could provide more than enough room for my family of six, and accommodate the inclusion of my dad. So in July we will be moving across town, over the creek and through the woods. The kids will remain in the same school district and they will each have their own room. My dad will have his own room with access to the bathroom from his room as well.

In less than a years time there will have been so much change, transition and I pray growth in our family. From lose, to opportunity, to new perspectives, to additions. As we go through this forward momentum I am in continual prayer that God’s hand be on each of us. That patience will abound, that words be true, actions be right, and hearts be open.

Why it's just Tuesday around here.

I don’t have to go very far to be reminded that there must be something going on today. Everywhere I look there are hearts and overpriced chocolate boxes and flowers. I had to make not one, but two trips for valentines cards and treats for the minions classes. But other than that things around are business as usual.

I went out to breakfast with a dear friend this morning and she asked if Aaron and I were doing anything special for Valentines Day. Luckily she knows that all is good so she wasn’t concerned when I replied that we in fact were not. We don’t really recognize Valentines Day. Now before you get all upset and accuse my husband of being an insensitive man let me tell you why I realized that I don’t need today to mean anything other than Tuesday, February 14th.

There was a time when I wanted Aaron to be more unrealistically romantic. I wanted the flowers, the outrageous gifts, the spontaneous dates, the publicly proclaimed love and devotion of me. I was a young, foolish girl who failed to see things as they were. We were young, raising babies on a tight budget. We were in a state away from both of our families and the majority of our friends lived over 30 minutes away. Aaron was working over 75 miles from home and we had one car. Perfect conditions for him to be prince charming, right?

He did bring me home a gift one year. He was working at Robert Mondavi Wines in downtown Chicago. **The very Chicago that is home to the best hockey team in the world, the Chicago Blackhawks. On that day, Aaron walked several city blocks in a snowstorm to, “The Hawks Nest”. This was the official retail store of the Blackhawks. He quickly realized that our budget would not allow for the jersey he wanted to get me. Instead he purchased what we could afford. A puck. Seriously, a hockey puck. After we tucked the kids into bed he confessed that he had gone and gotten me a gift. He explained that he wanted so badly to surprise me with a jersey and presented me with the puck. It was heavy, and had the Blackhawk Indian boldly on the face. Some girls get diamonds, some get roses, and some get chocolate. I got what is quite possibly the most thoughtful heartfelt gift I had ever gotten.

I realize that my husband is not the mushy, romantic lead actor type from romantic comedies that I expected true love to be. But he has exceeded all of my expectations in earning my love and devotion by his actions. He is a do-er, he has to be in constant motion doing something. His father is like that, and he is as well by nature. It is not uncommon for me to come home and find that he has washed, dried and folded several loads of laundry. Has cleaned the kitchen and had dinner on the table. He greets me on weekend mornings with a cup of my favorite coffee as an offering. He gets me chocolate, often. It may not be in a hearts shaped box, but he knows that I loves Reeses and Heath bars. He doesn't bring me flowers from a shop that die a week later. He plants me gardens and gardens of flowers around our property. He clips some every few days and places them in a vase. He knows that I am ready to fall apart, so he holds me together, runs me a bath and pours me a glass of wine. He shoves me in the bathroom to soak while he puts the little ones to bed. He gets in the trenches and raises our kids. He disciplines, he guides, he teaches, he loves. He lets me scream when I need to scream. He holds me when I need to cry.

He is gentle, kind, compassionate, passionate and my best friend. He makes me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world when I would think I am at my lowest. Hair all a mess, no make up in baggy scrubs and a hoodie. And I fall in love with him all over again. As a young girl I wanted a knight in shining armor to make it all perfect. I got so much more than that. I got a Marine in a BMW who didn’t promise me that it would be perfect. It’s rough, we have had to fight hard for everything. But what he did promise, he has kept. He has always been by my side. He is my strength, my partner, my friend, no matter what. He makes me a better woman. This is our story everyday, not just on February 14th. He knows that a clean kitchen and a cup of coffee are the best way to make me weak in the knees.

How could that not be romantic? :)

** In case you didn't know. I am a huge fan of Chicago Blackhawks Hockey. And yes, they are the best.

Little treasures

I don’t have to look far to see you. I confess I have reminders of you in every place I could I think of. My biggest fear is forgetting any part of you.

I desperately want to hear your voice. Calling me your baby girl and telling me that I need to call more. Telling me that you love me. I want to tell you that I love you too. While searching for a voice mail on my phone I discovered that I had never deleted your voicemails this past year. I found one that I find myself listening to every few days. You say all the things that I need to hear.

I refuse to take your wedding ring off my right hand. It is nice and snug with Grandma’s wedding band. I hope it serves as a reminder of the marriages that they represented. I hope that I may have a marriage that is a strong as those two were.

I wear your t-shirts as pajama’s hoping that I will remember the warmth that I felt when you would wrap your arms around me.

I have the silly little stuffed Kermit. The night that you left I found it on your dresser and I slept with it every night, holding it tightly in my fist. I remembered Kermit always rode along in the “Tina Toyota”. We would pose him on the dash, or in the ashtray. He reminds me of our many adventures.

I went and bought a bottle of your favorite lotion. I have to put it on my hands nightly so that I can remember the smell of you. I would tease you that lavender was an old lady fragrance, but now it is the most tranquil and relaxing scent. After you left us, I could still smell it on your pillow. Some may find it silly, but that scent is comfort to me.

I have your wooden spoons in my kitchen. Every good Momma has wooden spoons. They remind me of ensuring discipline and boundaries for my children. You made sure that I understood respect and it’s value. I hope that my children learn the same lesson from me.

The blankets I have that were made by your hands, and the hands of grandma are all around the house. You made the kids each a blanket those are on their beds. I have others in the living room and my bedroom. There is nothing like wrapping up in them. It is as though I am wrapping myself in love. I once thought that I would keep them tucked away in the steamer trunk, so that they don’t get ruined. But then I thought that you made them so that I would enjoy them. There is greater enjoyment in snuggling in the blankets with a good book, then to have them tucked out of sight for decades.

I had painted my nails the other day. As I held my hand out to make sure I was satisfied with the color, I found myself crying. My hands looked just as I remembered yours looking. My hands may not be as talented as yours were. However, I only have to look down to see a part of you in me.

As I was growing up I always thought I favored my father. My dark eyes, dark straight hair, my olive complexion. It wasn’t until I started looking at pictures of you when you were my age now that I realized how much I resemble you. I have your smile, your nose, and the same shape face. Looking further at pictures of Gran I can see that you got much of that from her. As I watch Madie grow I can see that despite the fact that the four generations may have different hair and eye color, we all have that same shape face, nose and smile.

I have to accept that you are no longer with us. I feel the hole that is left now that you are gone. These few little things that I have that remind me of you have helped to soften the edges of that hole so that it doesn’t feel as though I can’t do this without you. I have you, everywhere. And I am so grateful to have that to carry me until I can see you again.

Love you, Momma.