At the end of this day of the anniversary of my sister's passing, the phrase: "Family is first, last and always" resounds in my head recalling mom's words in the note that she left for us kids after her passing. This phrase I take to heart and perhaps angels continue to remind me of those words when I feel our family is not what it used to be. Looking at me in the sibling chain, the fourth child of five, she saw me as the peace keeper, the one who would keep this family together. There I was at the age of 22, once a naive little girl, then after her passing feeling as though a vice had just taken hold of my soul, and with each beat of my heart the vice grew tighter. Barbie was given this responsibility, or so I felt in her last words to me, to us. How on earth was I going to fulfill that task??? It seemed a daunting task, but I tried and do try to uphold what she wanted me to do in this family. I'll never forget that day when my sister, Deni, gathered us in the livingroom of my mom's house, the home where I still lived at that time, and those words were read by my brother. All of us wondering what our next move would be, still in shock from the events that had just transpired. Where would this journey take us now? Why did this have to happen? Who would be present and who would not? Over the years time would tell, and I took those last words from my mother to the deepest part of my soul knowing that I would try my best to fulfill her wishes.
She shared her thoughts about each one of us and what gifts and responsibilities we were given, she encouraged us to carry on and told us how much we were loved. In life there are words that we don't want to hear, but if they're spoken by our loved ones, we never forget them. We all recognized our mom's love for holding our family above all after God. She always instilled that in us, and each of us has our own interpretation of that I suppose. We felt the expectations to be at all family gatherings near and far, and working a job wasn't an excuse. You better try to rearrange your schedule because family is always first. Lately, that appointed task has been more challenging to uphold during these holidays, and I find myself tired. I find that being with Marty, the kids and myself are all I want to do. But if I don't uphold what my mother spoke, what will happen? It is a journey isn't it? Should I act like much of the world and put me first, but then what would happen? Look at what's happening in our society today because of that attitude.
Today marks my 100th entry onto this website that I began writing two years ago in March of 2010. Most days my sister's death feels like yesterday; yet, sometimes when I try to recall her face or a time we spent together, it feels like decades ago. Most of my entries have been shared while others were drafted for only my heart to feel at the time it was written. Written words can be a relief for the grieving soul, but the depth of the grief can be cold and misunderstood, so I kept those comments to myself. I don't want people to feel that sort of pain, the deep unconsoling grief, but to understand where I am you would have to experience the loss of a loved one. So it's a "catch 22" in the world where I live. I want you to understand me, but you can't unless you lived my life and experienced the losses I have. There are days where I feel the joy of a good time, the friendly thoughtful gesture by a friend or neighbor or the taste of a good meal, and I smile thinking of Chrissy. Other days, the tears don't stop and I ask myself, "What the hell happened? How did this all happen?" It's a part of life, I know, but it seems an aging person isn't present in my family. My Aunt Nancy is the oldest on my mom's side of the family, and to other families, that age would still be young. I wonder who will be next. Isn't that morbid? I suppose it is, but I wonder.
The modern family has taken some hard hits, and divorce is rapid worldwide. Why is that? Is there not enough emphasis on the family? Is it all about ME and what I want. Kudos to those of you who put your family first. I was instilled in my upbringing to give everything for your family, and I believe in these years without my parents, I have. Now, with Chrissy not here in this life, I find it more difficult. Perhaps we're all trying to understand the new because the old is gone. As our family experiences transition into new ways, new traditions, new friendships I take a deep breath and hope for the best because it isn't easy. The road to recovery, if you will, is a choice and takes so much work. Sometimes I don't feel like chatting with a friend or family member and other days I wonder where you've all went? Then the words of my mother give me strength and the sacrifice Jesus Christ made for me, for us, gives me pause, and I must resolve to doing what I was meant to do. If that means creating the family we were supposed to be, then I will do it.
On this day I honor my sister in so many personal adventures, one was visiting "Our Lady of the Snows." It brought me peace and hope that some day we will all be together. For now, I will instill in my own kids how important they are to each other, and how important their extended family is in building their own personal relationships. I joke with my oldest son to be nice to his little sister because someday she will be the one changing his diapers. He looks at me strangely and tells me to stop saying that, but in all the joking, there's some seriousness to my comment. I thought of the things that brought my sister joy today and then I smiled. I heard the sermon today by our priest and the subject was Joy. How appropriate was that on this bittersweet day upon reflecting not only on my sister's death but thinking of her in her new life. Our family has been brought to a place that none of us thought we would be and I chant those infamous words that mom passed on to me......"Family is first, last and always........to the end.
Sunday, December 11, 2011
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Fah La La La La la.....la....la.....ahhhhhh
Another Thanksgiving has graced its presence in this year of 2011, and our house is bursting at the seams with holiday decor which ranges from peace and hope to a version of the Grizwald's Family Christmas. If you can envision the character, Chevy Chase, and his house; I think our house is a close second to his. Imagine Mary, Joseph and Jesus meeting up at the nearest convenience store......that would describe my house in a nutshell. (Perhaps I'm exaggerating a little)
I let the children take over this chore because I so love to watch the excitement in their eyes as we set up the lights and find just the right spot for that special ornament. It was the same excitement I felt as a kid when we would take our ride on Christmas Eve with dad to look at all the holiday decorations in the neighborhood while "Santa" left his treasures. The presents would not be brought until all the children had left. That was the story that mom was sticking to. It was a time before cell phones and "I" whatevers, but dad knew exactly how long to disappear before arriving home. I used to believe it was so magical! It's the same excitement I would feel coming home upon seeing our house lit up with Christmas cheer where Santa had so lovingly decorated our house with lights and the family Christmas tree. I enjoy seeing that same excitement in my kids' eyes. In decorating so early this year, we took some heat from the neighbors as we began our holiday traditions during last weekend's heat wave. "How could you, it's not even Thanksgiving," was a comment we heard from our lovely neighbor. We'll see how they feel in 20 degree weather climbing their rooves and handling their Christmas treasures. It's only going to get colder, right! So it made sense to me to begin a little earlier this year, and we were able to enjoy time together like taking walks in nature and watching movies during their school break.
The ache still lingers, though, missing my loved ones. I started my Christmas baking this weekend because I remember how my sissy loved my cookies, but it still hurts. Through it all I feel as though I'm battling the choice to live differently through the traditions, living without the ones we love as we used to. Everything is different.....at least it is for me. I was not eager to face the approaching Thanksgiving Day, hoping it would leave quietly, as I didn't want to celebrate it. I have lots to be grateful for, but I wanted to thank God in peace and quiet. If it weren't for my kids and my mom's lingering words that "family is first, last and always," I would hve chosen to read a good book in the quiet of my bed, eating a cold turkey sandwich slathered with Miracle Whip, iceberg lettuce and a touch of salt and pepper followed by a slice of my favorite pie, washed down with an ice cold something. That sounds lovely to me. But my destiny is not of that making. The holidays become time frames, talking about who can come and who can't, what foods to prepare, what to buy, and it seems to go on and on. I may sound like Scrooge, but it becomes noisy to me, and that noise tends to drown out the peace in my heart, unless I take time to find it. Peace is within all of us, but these holidays can sure shake it up, don't they? I prepared our Thanksgiving feast with my sister, Sue, and my neice, Cassie, and our families, and we all understood. Life goes on whether our loved ones are here or not. Sometimes that just plain sucks to me. Thank God for my children who encourage me to celebrate because the smiles on their faces make all the difference. They are a blessing indeed! I pray that I bring them the same visions of joy in this holy season just as my parents created for me no matter how I feel inside. Perhaps it's by the grace of God that we learn to experience joy, but it's a battle of the wills for me.
I hesitated to write this entry because it's not always what people want to hear. Life is good, but there's also the reality that life is so different. During this season of Fah La Lahing; I pray to God to help me see because my heart is having trouble seeing today.
I let the children take over this chore because I so love to watch the excitement in their eyes as we set up the lights and find just the right spot for that special ornament. It was the same excitement I felt as a kid when we would take our ride on Christmas Eve with dad to look at all the holiday decorations in the neighborhood while "Santa" left his treasures. The presents would not be brought until all the children had left. That was the story that mom was sticking to. It was a time before cell phones and "I" whatevers, but dad knew exactly how long to disappear before arriving home. I used to believe it was so magical! It's the same excitement I would feel coming home upon seeing our house lit up with Christmas cheer where Santa had so lovingly decorated our house with lights and the family Christmas tree. I enjoy seeing that same excitement in my kids' eyes. In decorating so early this year, we took some heat from the neighbors as we began our holiday traditions during last weekend's heat wave. "How could you, it's not even Thanksgiving," was a comment we heard from our lovely neighbor. We'll see how they feel in 20 degree weather climbing their rooves and handling their Christmas treasures. It's only going to get colder, right! So it made sense to me to begin a little earlier this year, and we were able to enjoy time together like taking walks in nature and watching movies during their school break.
The ache still lingers, though, missing my loved ones. I started my Christmas baking this weekend because I remember how my sissy loved my cookies, but it still hurts. Through it all I feel as though I'm battling the choice to live differently through the traditions, living without the ones we love as we used to. Everything is different.....at least it is for me. I was not eager to face the approaching Thanksgiving Day, hoping it would leave quietly, as I didn't want to celebrate it. I have lots to be grateful for, but I wanted to thank God in peace and quiet. If it weren't for my kids and my mom's lingering words that "family is first, last and always," I would hve chosen to read a good book in the quiet of my bed, eating a cold turkey sandwich slathered with Miracle Whip, iceberg lettuce and a touch of salt and pepper followed by a slice of my favorite pie, washed down with an ice cold something. That sounds lovely to me. But my destiny is not of that making. The holidays become time frames, talking about who can come and who can't, what foods to prepare, what to buy, and it seems to go on and on. I may sound like Scrooge, but it becomes noisy to me, and that noise tends to drown out the peace in my heart, unless I take time to find it. Peace is within all of us, but these holidays can sure shake it up, don't they? I prepared our Thanksgiving feast with my sister, Sue, and my neice, Cassie, and our families, and we all understood. Life goes on whether our loved ones are here or not. Sometimes that just plain sucks to me. Thank God for my children who encourage me to celebrate because the smiles on their faces make all the difference. They are a blessing indeed! I pray that I bring them the same visions of joy in this holy season just as my parents created for me no matter how I feel inside. Perhaps it's by the grace of God that we learn to experience joy, but it's a battle of the wills for me.
I hesitated to write this entry because it's not always what people want to hear. Life is good, but there's also the reality that life is so different. During this season of Fah La Lahing; I pray to God to help me see because my heart is having trouble seeing today.
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Scent of a Woman
I found myself at the perfume counter last week buying my favorite scented cream which I haven't bought for quite some time. Usually I wait for Marty to give it to me as a gift around the holidays, but I've been totally without perfume except for some cheap brand that I probably found at Walgreens just to hold me over. There I was smelling some of my favorite scents when I happened to catch a glimpse of the perfume brand that my mom used to wear, and the memories permeated my being.
I immediately remembered her taking a bath, and she would pour it into her bath water, and the bathroom would be embalmed with my mom's familiar scent. The younger generation might refer to her scent as an old lady's perfume. Hmmm, come to think of it, they might refer to my scent as old lady's perfume! My own family has said that my perfume smells like "Aunt Barbie." So there I was waiting for the sales lady to pack my product when I started enhaling that familiar smell of my mom. It brought back so many wonderful memories! I imagined her in all the familiar earthly places of my childhood: up at school working, the PTO, the evenings out with my dad, her cooking over the stove and her loving embrace. How I miss that motherly embrace, her unconditional love, her laugh, her spark, her laugh. Hell, I miss it all! Here I am 25 years after her death, and I still tear up thinking about my mom. Perhaps it's the approaching holidays or hearing the Christmas carols, and my whole being is brought back to the fading time of my childhood. I thank God for those memories and yet; I curse them at the same time. I wonder where it all went? I don't feel the joy of the season when I know that I should. Trust me when I say that I am trying to work through those negative feelings. My Catholic faith tells me that I should. I should feel God's blessing upon me, and all I seem to think of is what I don't have and how much I want it back.
I loved watching every detail of my mom getting ready back in the day. My minds eye can recall every facet of her applying her make-up, getting dressed, selecting the shoes and clothes, feeling her face next to mine when she kissed me goodbye, usually leaving remnants of her lipstick on my cheek. Watching her get ready gave me the opportunity to chat with her and figure out how I would wear my make-up or choose my own clothes as I got older. She took pride in her appearance, and growing into my own adulthood I have clung onto that familiar scent of hers. I can envision her particular walk as she strutted down our hallway in the house where we grew up. As a little girl I remember watching her fade into the distance as she left for her social gathering, strolling out to the car and leaving me. She actually left me! What was she thinking?!
As these holidays approach, I find myself drifting back, wanting to know more, and I realize that there's never enough. I always want to know and learn more about her, but it's been awhile since anything new has been brought to my attention. I still don't know why she named me, "Barbara". It seems to be a mystery in my family, and perhaps she never shared that choice with anyone. Who am I kidding? Someone knows. All of us women have a reason for selecting a name. My own children at a young age have asked me why I named them who they are. Maybe my mom just liked the name Barbara. Perhaps it sounds trivial to some people wanting to know these answers, but I bet many of you can relate to what I'm saying, especially if you were adopted. I'm not adopted myself. Well, at least I don't think so? My brothers and sisters used to tease me about being brought home from the Shell Gas Station......I was the free gift. While I still don't know all the answers of my past; I long for the scent of my mother; a scent of a woman whom touched me with many warm memories.
I immediately remembered her taking a bath, and she would pour it into her bath water, and the bathroom would be embalmed with my mom's familiar scent. The younger generation might refer to her scent as an old lady's perfume. Hmmm, come to think of it, they might refer to my scent as old lady's perfume! My own family has said that my perfume smells like "Aunt Barbie." So there I was waiting for the sales lady to pack my product when I started enhaling that familiar smell of my mom. It brought back so many wonderful memories! I imagined her in all the familiar earthly places of my childhood: up at school working, the PTO, the evenings out with my dad, her cooking over the stove and her loving embrace. How I miss that motherly embrace, her unconditional love, her laugh, her spark, her laugh. Hell, I miss it all! Here I am 25 years after her death, and I still tear up thinking about my mom. Perhaps it's the approaching holidays or hearing the Christmas carols, and my whole being is brought back to the fading time of my childhood. I thank God for those memories and yet; I curse them at the same time. I wonder where it all went? I don't feel the joy of the season when I know that I should. Trust me when I say that I am trying to work through those negative feelings. My Catholic faith tells me that I should. I should feel God's blessing upon me, and all I seem to think of is what I don't have and how much I want it back.
I loved watching every detail of my mom getting ready back in the day. My minds eye can recall every facet of her applying her make-up, getting dressed, selecting the shoes and clothes, feeling her face next to mine when she kissed me goodbye, usually leaving remnants of her lipstick on my cheek. Watching her get ready gave me the opportunity to chat with her and figure out how I would wear my make-up or choose my own clothes as I got older. She took pride in her appearance, and growing into my own adulthood I have clung onto that familiar scent of hers. I can envision her particular walk as she strutted down our hallway in the house where we grew up. As a little girl I remember watching her fade into the distance as she left for her social gathering, strolling out to the car and leaving me. She actually left me! What was she thinking?!
As these holidays approach, I find myself drifting back, wanting to know more, and I realize that there's never enough. I always want to know and learn more about her, but it's been awhile since anything new has been brought to my attention. I still don't know why she named me, "Barbara". It seems to be a mystery in my family, and perhaps she never shared that choice with anyone. Who am I kidding? Someone knows. All of us women have a reason for selecting a name. My own children at a young age have asked me why I named them who they are. Maybe my mom just liked the name Barbara. Perhaps it sounds trivial to some people wanting to know these answers, but I bet many of you can relate to what I'm saying, especially if you were adopted. I'm not adopted myself. Well, at least I don't think so? My brothers and sisters used to tease me about being brought home from the Shell Gas Station......I was the free gift. While I still don't know all the answers of my past; I long for the scent of my mother; a scent of a woman whom touched me with many warm memories.
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Two Sisters and One Angel
With the leaves changing from their summer colors to the beautiful oranges, reds and yellows I can't help but think of my sissy. This was Chrissy's favorite time of year with all it's cool, crisp temperatures, great festive holidays and outrageous foods that she loved so much! I can't help but think of the many costumes she would create or surprise us with.....even into the last weeks of her life when she felt so tired. She insisted on dressing herself; perhaps allowing herself to do something for herself....with no ones assistance. But as much as I miss her and long for her physical presence; this day I can't help but think of two other sisters whose lives would change in a heartbeat. They are sisters that I only know from a distance. I have learned of their tragic journey through my own family ties, our common neighborhoods and schools, our families connected by similiar friends and family members. My sisters hung out in common circles with their great aunts and my neice knows an uncle and my nephew went to a dance with one of these sisters. I came to learn of a recent tragedy that was selfishly created by a stranger who started a chain of events that would last a lifetime filled with challenges and grief. I saw one of these sisters in a photograph last year taken with my nephew who attended a school dance with her. What a beautiful aura she has!
Two sisters driving along, minding their own business, talking about who knows what? Perhaps they were chatting about their evening plans or talking of boys or parents or laughing at a joke. Maybe they were quarreling over which song they wanted to hear on the radio or whose turn it was to do the dishes. Maybe they sat in silence, thinking of life or nothing at all. One never knows when our time will come; not even an eleven year old little girl. I don't know why these tragic events occur? They will never make sense to me, but maybe it isn't for us to understand. And that's where the faith has to happen in order for the healing to begin. It's easy to "believe" when life goes our way, but it's not so easy when a loved one passes on. I don't think anyone could ever make sense of such a horrific car accident. It just so happens that another car traveling at just the same time apparently drove them off the road; only to leave the fallen pieces to a loving family. That stranger didn't dare stop or take responsibility for their actions, and that alone can lead to many unanswered questions. You were seen whoever you are.....others witnessed the act. Why do people act so selfishly?
As I think of my own sister and her journey; I feel the blessings with the cancer, being able to spend time together given her circumstances. I had a chance to talk with her and be with her those last days. There's no way to prepare yourself for death really, but I have always found comfort in speaking freely with her; both of us knowing what was to come, saying our "goodbyes". These two sisters weren't given that opportunity, but I can only hope, knowing what I know, that they were two loving sisters who made the most of their earthly life. May God bless their family and heal them in the days ahead. Who knew that one of those sisters would leave her earthly life so young, only to become an angel. I'm sure of it. If there is a blessing in the madness of such a tragedy is that God gave this family a young angel whom I'm sure is guiding them on their way through healing. I hope they see the signs that are so apparent in the early days of grief. They continue on, but I pray that they continue to see the signs. All I can say is that I'm so very sorry for their loss.....but in the loss of an earthly sister lives an angel.
"God giving us life is His gift to us, and our gift to Him is living it"
Two sisters driving along, minding their own business, talking about who knows what? Perhaps they were chatting about their evening plans or talking of boys or parents or laughing at a joke. Maybe they were quarreling over which song they wanted to hear on the radio or whose turn it was to do the dishes. Maybe they sat in silence, thinking of life or nothing at all. One never knows when our time will come; not even an eleven year old little girl. I don't know why these tragic events occur? They will never make sense to me, but maybe it isn't for us to understand. And that's where the faith has to happen in order for the healing to begin. It's easy to "believe" when life goes our way, but it's not so easy when a loved one passes on. I don't think anyone could ever make sense of such a horrific car accident. It just so happens that another car traveling at just the same time apparently drove them off the road; only to leave the fallen pieces to a loving family. That stranger didn't dare stop or take responsibility for their actions, and that alone can lead to many unanswered questions. You were seen whoever you are.....others witnessed the act. Why do people act so selfishly?
As I think of my own sister and her journey; I feel the blessings with the cancer, being able to spend time together given her circumstances. I had a chance to talk with her and be with her those last days. There's no way to prepare yourself for death really, but I have always found comfort in speaking freely with her; both of us knowing what was to come, saying our "goodbyes". These two sisters weren't given that opportunity, but I can only hope, knowing what I know, that they were two loving sisters who made the most of their earthly life. May God bless their family and heal them in the days ahead. Who knew that one of those sisters would leave her earthly life so young, only to become an angel. I'm sure of it. If there is a blessing in the madness of such a tragedy is that God gave this family a young angel whom I'm sure is guiding them on their way through healing. I hope they see the signs that are so apparent in the early days of grief. They continue on, but I pray that they continue to see the signs. All I can say is that I'm so very sorry for their loss.....but in the loss of an earthly sister lives an angel.
"God giving us life is His gift to us, and our gift to Him is living it"
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
The Onion Experience
Like an onion with all its layers, so too is this journey in life for me. Each experience in life is bringing forth more knowledge, more depth and soul searching. Some of the life learning is wanted; yet, other times we ignore the signs and experiences that need to happen. It sort of reminds me of a child who doesn't want to pay attention to their parents. We don't always want to pay attention and that's when the imbalance in life occurs, when you deny your true self. It is in the living of life that the layers form, and sometimes those layers, those emotional experiences are tucked away. In this new life that I'm trying to explore, some of my layers have diminished; while others remain. You only understand me if you dare unfold the layers. Many of us have them, but I'm convinced that many don't nor do they care, which leaves them sailing through life without a clue.
From the time my parents have passed on to their new life to the countless deaths of so many others inbetween and more recently the passing of my sister, Chrissy, my personality and emotional layers have been forming. There are so many levels of grief and on any particular day it can engulf you like the pungent scent of an onion, while other days these layers of emotions unfold or grow, never knowing what feelings might emerge. Those feelings could be sparked by a familiar smell, a song, a vehicle on the road. There isn't any rhyme or reason I've learned as to why I cry or how I might respond on any given day. Perhaps I'm agitated by a certain entitled behavior by a stranger or question why people are absent from their lives or absent in my life.
As I travel this road, meeting new acquaintances, living a new life, watching the world around me I sometimes wonder how I sift through it all. I look up to the skies and a peace fills my heart. I guess looking into the deep blues with billowy clouds gives me a sense of hope and peace. There are days when I feel I'm walking in the hamster wheel and I don't quite reach any destination, but my body sure feels tired. Other days energy ignites me to try new adventures, meet new people and explore new horizens or perform a good deed for someone. The next day I could be back on the hamster wheel. My intention in this life is to seek and hopefully find some answers as to what I'm supposed to grasp on this journey.
One of the most difficult tasks I've had on this earth was to tell my children of their dying dog, Kelly, and in later years having to tell them about their Aunt Chrissy's journey which would be cut short on this earth and continue on the other side. It wasn't easy grasping that idea myself, but telling young eyes that their dear aunt, someone who was visible and an active part of their lives was going to die was one of the most difficult jobs I've ever had to do. Other than watching my sister's physical pain, revealing to my children that their Aunt Chrissy was going to die was very surreal, but it had to be done. I had promised them that I would always tell them what was going on with her condition, and I wasn't going to shy away from the truth no matter how difficult it was. I asked God for guidance to not only tell the truth here but to tell them my truth about life beyond this one. That was the only version that would help me get through "the talk." It was painful to live through, but given my own personal past life ordeals, I knew they would be grateful for my honesty thus giving them the opportunity to say their goodbyes to her.
The other night, while I was sitting with my children as they were doing their usual homework routines, the subject of heaven and death came up with my middle son, Luke, who has the sweetest of hearts. For some reason he decided that it was the perfect opportunity to ask sensitive questions and express his concerns about my parents and their life after this one. With a quivering lip and tearful eyes he said, "Mom, I really wish I could have met your mommy and daddy......my grandparents. My immediate response has always been to express how much their grandparents would have spoiled them and how much they love them. Given the choice to live and be near them physically, I know all their grandparents would have chosen that. But God has a plan that is bigger than we can understand. I thought that would be sufficient and there would be no more talk of what pains me. He continued on to say that he really missed his Aunt Chrissy and it makes him very sad not to have her here. It's at those moments when I tell myself to keep my tears at bay and try to offer them comfort. I feel it's at those pivotal times in my life when the Holy Spirit fills me with its sound words of wisdom. I know the words weren't mine, but hopefully the message was received.
I went on to tell Luke that while I'm sad and missing her; I also feel happy because I know she is with my mom and dad and grandparents and all my family in heaven. I went on to say that someday you'll get to meet them, too. (imagine a long pause) I wish I could have bottled my son's expression or clicked a photo of him right then and there, and sent it across my email because it was the look of fear, shock, sadness and curiosity all rolled into one. His face showed fear of his own mortality, shock at possibly seeing all these people from his family that seemed so far away, sadness from his own grief and curiosity of how getting to heaven happens. Of course his response was, "WHAT!!???"
"Yes, Luke, one day our body is going to die, but the spirit never will. You'll see them all again. We'll all be together again buddy." As he awkwardly wiped away his tears that he was trying to hold back, he grinned from ear to ear.
The onion experience is built over time with friendships, family and emotional ups and downs. I knew that another layer had just been added that night by this talk with my son. How can you explain the feelings you have when your 10 year old son talks of his own mortality, his fears, his sadness and still explodes with joy. It pains my heart to know he misses her so much, but it is what it is. The onion experience is my own, keeping what is mine in my heart while releasing some of it to you. The journey goes on.................
From the time my parents have passed on to their new life to the countless deaths of so many others inbetween and more recently the passing of my sister, Chrissy, my personality and emotional layers have been forming. There are so many levels of grief and on any particular day it can engulf you like the pungent scent of an onion, while other days these layers of emotions unfold or grow, never knowing what feelings might emerge. Those feelings could be sparked by a familiar smell, a song, a vehicle on the road. There isn't any rhyme or reason I've learned as to why I cry or how I might respond on any given day. Perhaps I'm agitated by a certain entitled behavior by a stranger or question why people are absent from their lives or absent in my life.
As I travel this road, meeting new acquaintances, living a new life, watching the world around me I sometimes wonder how I sift through it all. I look up to the skies and a peace fills my heart. I guess looking into the deep blues with billowy clouds gives me a sense of hope and peace. There are days when I feel I'm walking in the hamster wheel and I don't quite reach any destination, but my body sure feels tired. Other days energy ignites me to try new adventures, meet new people and explore new horizens or perform a good deed for someone. The next day I could be back on the hamster wheel. My intention in this life is to seek and hopefully find some answers as to what I'm supposed to grasp on this journey.
One of the most difficult tasks I've had on this earth was to tell my children of their dying dog, Kelly, and in later years having to tell them about their Aunt Chrissy's journey which would be cut short on this earth and continue on the other side. It wasn't easy grasping that idea myself, but telling young eyes that their dear aunt, someone who was visible and an active part of their lives was going to die was one of the most difficult jobs I've ever had to do. Other than watching my sister's physical pain, revealing to my children that their Aunt Chrissy was going to die was very surreal, but it had to be done. I had promised them that I would always tell them what was going on with her condition, and I wasn't going to shy away from the truth no matter how difficult it was. I asked God for guidance to not only tell the truth here but to tell them my truth about life beyond this one. That was the only version that would help me get through "the talk." It was painful to live through, but given my own personal past life ordeals, I knew they would be grateful for my honesty thus giving them the opportunity to say their goodbyes to her.
The other night, while I was sitting with my children as they were doing their usual homework routines, the subject of heaven and death came up with my middle son, Luke, who has the sweetest of hearts. For some reason he decided that it was the perfect opportunity to ask sensitive questions and express his concerns about my parents and their life after this one. With a quivering lip and tearful eyes he said, "Mom, I really wish I could have met your mommy and daddy......my grandparents. My immediate response has always been to express how much their grandparents would have spoiled them and how much they love them. Given the choice to live and be near them physically, I know all their grandparents would have chosen that. But God has a plan that is bigger than we can understand. I thought that would be sufficient and there would be no more talk of what pains me. He continued on to say that he really missed his Aunt Chrissy and it makes him very sad not to have her here. It's at those moments when I tell myself to keep my tears at bay and try to offer them comfort. I feel it's at those pivotal times in my life when the Holy Spirit fills me with its sound words of wisdom. I know the words weren't mine, but hopefully the message was received.
I went on to tell Luke that while I'm sad and missing her; I also feel happy because I know she is with my mom and dad and grandparents and all my family in heaven. I went on to say that someday you'll get to meet them, too. (imagine a long pause) I wish I could have bottled my son's expression or clicked a photo of him right then and there, and sent it across my email because it was the look of fear, shock, sadness and curiosity all rolled into one. His face showed fear of his own mortality, shock at possibly seeing all these people from his family that seemed so far away, sadness from his own grief and curiosity of how getting to heaven happens. Of course his response was, "WHAT!!???"
"Yes, Luke, one day our body is going to die, but the spirit never will. You'll see them all again. We'll all be together again buddy." As he awkwardly wiped away his tears that he was trying to hold back, he grinned from ear to ear.
The onion experience is built over time with friendships, family and emotional ups and downs. I knew that another layer had just been added that night by this talk with my son. How can you explain the feelings you have when your 10 year old son talks of his own mortality, his fears, his sadness and still explodes with joy. It pains my heart to know he misses her so much, but it is what it is. The onion experience is my own, keeping what is mine in my heart while releasing some of it to you. The journey goes on.................
Monday, September 19, 2011
The Fall
For me, there's no better time during the year that is more reminiscent than this fall-like weather. It brings me back to my childhood in the blink of an eye as I prepare for my kids' Halloween costumes, attend their fall activities and exchange the seasonal clothes. My mom always made the holidays so special, but fall reminds me of smell of the lingering smoke from fireplaces or firepits as we walked down the street, eating chili for supper, searching for the latest Halloween costumes, preparing caramel apples, feeling the crunch of fallen leaves beneath my feet and jumping in huge piles of leaves, wearing sweatshirts, smelling the crisp air and last but not least......homework!
My kids have settled into their school routines, and we are again blessed with great teachers all around. My prayer each school year is to have teachers who understand my children and teach accordingly. They all seem to care or at least show they care by their emails and positive comments. This was Chrissy's favorite time of year, too, as her kids settled in and she could enjoy all the tasty foods, especially more around Thanksgiving. Even though you might not indulge in the same foods as her; you wanted to taste them as she gave them a new level of scrumptiousness! An abundance of food to her meant our family gathering together, not only to eat, but to share those infamous stories year after year. Being the youngest, I think she treasured those stories more than the rest of us because she missed so much of mom and dad's time. She so loved the Halloween season, decorating and scaring her kids with the latest Halloween gadgets. Yes, we Meyers are a sick lot of people as we love to scare the pants off of our next generation. We used to scare each other all the time as kids until we laughed our a**** off. The other day I did something to scare Eric, and he looked at me with such disgust, but he still had a smile. I told him it's part of the initiation process into this family. You either join us or NOT. It's up to you!??
This time of season brings me joy, remembering all the good things life has given me, especially the memories. While at times those memories can be bittersweet, thinking of what is lost; I try to remember the blessings in what was, the joy of living life now. In grief, the joy can take a back seat so I treasure what was and what is. I don't think too much of what will be because you never know. None of us knows the plan, but we savor the memories and live for now. Anything more can bring pain, and all we have is right now. As my dear friend Kathy says, "All we have is today....this moment." For today I enjoy the fall and all it has to share with me. I love the fall!!
My kids have settled into their school routines, and we are again blessed with great teachers all around. My prayer each school year is to have teachers who understand my children and teach accordingly. They all seem to care or at least show they care by their emails and positive comments. This was Chrissy's favorite time of year, too, as her kids settled in and she could enjoy all the tasty foods, especially more around Thanksgiving. Even though you might not indulge in the same foods as her; you wanted to taste them as she gave them a new level of scrumptiousness! An abundance of food to her meant our family gathering together, not only to eat, but to share those infamous stories year after year. Being the youngest, I think she treasured those stories more than the rest of us because she missed so much of mom and dad's time. She so loved the Halloween season, decorating and scaring her kids with the latest Halloween gadgets. Yes, we Meyers are a sick lot of people as we love to scare the pants off of our next generation. We used to scare each other all the time as kids until we laughed our a**** off. The other day I did something to scare Eric, and he looked at me with such disgust, but he still had a smile. I told him it's part of the initiation process into this family. You either join us or NOT. It's up to you!??
This time of season brings me joy, remembering all the good things life has given me, especially the memories. While at times those memories can be bittersweet, thinking of what is lost; I try to remember the blessings in what was, the joy of living life now. In grief, the joy can take a back seat so I treasure what was and what is. I don't think too much of what will be because you never know. None of us knows the plan, but we savor the memories and live for now. Anything more can bring pain, and all we have is right now. As my dear friend Kathy says, "All we have is today....this moment." For today I enjoy the fall and all it has to share with me. I love the fall!!
Friday, September 2, 2011
Like a Punch in the Gut But Then I Hear a Tap, Tap, Tap
Like a punch in the gut, you never know it's coming and so the feelings of grief sneak upon you. You never know why at that moment, what provokes it or where it's going to happen or when that gutteral pain is going to reach up to the top of your throat. It almost seems like this invisible strangle has taken hold of your heart. Its claws grasp your most inner soul and the pain is felt like you can't catch your next breath. I remember when she told me it had metastisized to the liver, and I screamed out....I literally screamed out after I hung up the phone. I'm quite sure I frightened my little Faith as she stood at my locked bedroom door asking, "Mommy, mommy what's wrong??"
In these hustle and bustle days with my kids, the commencement of the school season with its homework, the deadlines, the school activities, sometimes the drama. I am stepping out and meeting new faces for the first time in almost 3 years. Yes, I say 3 years because I didn't want to talk with anyone about anything other than the journey of my sister and our family. How dare someone talk of trivial home purchases or mini dramas in their life. My sister was fighting for her life, and from that time up to now, more important aspects of life and living have taken presidence. I still can't relate to those who are consumed with the material, the busyness, the nonesense of everyday life. I have found a new tool in my life to deal with comments that seem "stupid". I don't like that word, but until I find a better word, that's what I'll use for now. I "meditate" and am discovering peace that's always been there inside....it's been given, but somehow in the turmoil that changed our lives so drastically, I lost it. Don't get me wrong, sometimes I have my "go tos" when I am angry or upset. You know who your are! Then I realize that God has given me the peace I need....it's there......and serenity is there to fill me up. I retreat to this quiet a few times a day, and it helps me deal with the craziness of others. Sometimes I feel like I can't find the time to retreat as I hear whispers of little ones or knocks on my bedroom door, but I make it happen. I realize now, if I don't make the time for me, eventually I will become weak and tired. Then I'm no good to anyone.
For some reason, lately I've been feeling that punch in the gut. It hit me out of the blue last night. Perhaps it's living the new school year, and wishing my sister was here for her kids as they face those new experiences, the new friends, the activities, their teachers, the growing pains of life. I remember the month of August during my school age years, feeling the anticipation of new classes, new friends and my mom seemed so happy.....hmmmm......so happy? I remember her chanting the school song, "School days, school days, reading and writing and rule days....." Could it be she had had her fill of us five kids in and out of her house all summer long? Now as a mother, I understand completely. But the pangs of grief have been more intense lately. Is it the newness of me meeting new people? That's never been comfortable for me: meeting new faces, learning new routines. Is it living new experiences, now actually conversing with mere strangers? I'm so wanting to share these feelings with my sissy. Perhaps everything's changing now, and it stirs up all sorts of emotions. I don't know? Then something's been happening...........the tap, tap, tapping on my pillow at strange times during the night.
A few weeks ago, I awakened sometime in the night hearing a tapping on my pillow. If either Marty or me happens to be snoring (not often with either one of us but mostly happens when we're over tired), we'll nudge or tap the other one to STOP IT! So when I awoke, I said, "Oh, was I snoring??" Marty then woke up and said, "What, what are you talking about? I didn't wake you!" I know what I know, and I felt the tapping. As I lay there, all I was thinking was.......was that HER? It could have been her, but why? Then it happened again at 4:30 in the morning one day and another tapping a couple of nights ago. I mentioned it to Marty again, and I think he thinks I'm going crazy. But for those of you who have dear ones who have passed, you know what I'm talking about. Those signs happen, and maybe.....just maybe she reaching out to me. Like a punch in the gut, it hits me that she's gone from this living life, and that's so difficult. I can't even begin to share all my thoughts about that. She isn't living this life here with me like I want, but perhaps she's tapping on my pillow, waking me up, telling me that she is living and I need to be living here. I've been so afraid of living here without her that she feels the need to keep tapping until I pay attention. Could that be? Although I've been feeling the punch in the gut; I long to feel the tapping, the tapping to tell me she's here.
In these hustle and bustle days with my kids, the commencement of the school season with its homework, the deadlines, the school activities, sometimes the drama. I am stepping out and meeting new faces for the first time in almost 3 years. Yes, I say 3 years because I didn't want to talk with anyone about anything other than the journey of my sister and our family. How dare someone talk of trivial home purchases or mini dramas in their life. My sister was fighting for her life, and from that time up to now, more important aspects of life and living have taken presidence. I still can't relate to those who are consumed with the material, the busyness, the nonesense of everyday life. I have found a new tool in my life to deal with comments that seem "stupid". I don't like that word, but until I find a better word, that's what I'll use for now. I "meditate" and am discovering peace that's always been there inside....it's been given, but somehow in the turmoil that changed our lives so drastically, I lost it. Don't get me wrong, sometimes I have my "go tos" when I am angry or upset. You know who your are! Then I realize that God has given me the peace I need....it's there......and serenity is there to fill me up. I retreat to this quiet a few times a day, and it helps me deal with the craziness of others. Sometimes I feel like I can't find the time to retreat as I hear whispers of little ones or knocks on my bedroom door, but I make it happen. I realize now, if I don't make the time for me, eventually I will become weak and tired. Then I'm no good to anyone.
For some reason, lately I've been feeling that punch in the gut. It hit me out of the blue last night. Perhaps it's living the new school year, and wishing my sister was here for her kids as they face those new experiences, the new friends, the activities, their teachers, the growing pains of life. I remember the month of August during my school age years, feeling the anticipation of new classes, new friends and my mom seemed so happy.....hmmmm......so happy? I remember her chanting the school song, "School days, school days, reading and writing and rule days....." Could it be she had had her fill of us five kids in and out of her house all summer long? Now as a mother, I understand completely. But the pangs of grief have been more intense lately. Is it the newness of me meeting new people? That's never been comfortable for me: meeting new faces, learning new routines. Is it living new experiences, now actually conversing with mere strangers? I'm so wanting to share these feelings with my sissy. Perhaps everything's changing now, and it stirs up all sorts of emotions. I don't know? Then something's been happening...........the tap, tap, tapping on my pillow at strange times during the night.
A few weeks ago, I awakened sometime in the night hearing a tapping on my pillow. If either Marty or me happens to be snoring (not often with either one of us but mostly happens when we're over tired), we'll nudge or tap the other one to STOP IT! So when I awoke, I said, "Oh, was I snoring??" Marty then woke up and said, "What, what are you talking about? I didn't wake you!" I know what I know, and I felt the tapping. As I lay there, all I was thinking was.......was that HER? It could have been her, but why? Then it happened again at 4:30 in the morning one day and another tapping a couple of nights ago. I mentioned it to Marty again, and I think he thinks I'm going crazy. But for those of you who have dear ones who have passed, you know what I'm talking about. Those signs happen, and maybe.....just maybe she reaching out to me. Like a punch in the gut, it hits me that she's gone from this living life, and that's so difficult. I can't even begin to share all my thoughts about that. She isn't living this life here with me like I want, but perhaps she's tapping on my pillow, waking me up, telling me that she is living and I need to be living here. I've been so afraid of living here without her that she feels the need to keep tapping until I pay attention. Could that be? Although I've been feeling the punch in the gut; I long to feel the tapping, the tapping to tell me she's here.
Saturday, August 20, 2011
Second Firsts
This year has been a year of pain, spiritual struggles, learning, growth, some joy and rebirth, thus my entry entitled "Second Firsts." I didn't create this name, but I borrowed it from a site that I often read that has to do with living and starting new after grief. Grief is always there within us for those who have lost, but it is learning to go beyond our loss that is so very challenging. If you asked where I was emotionally this time last year, I would say empty and without joy. Oh yes, I functioned and did what I needed to do, but I didn't know where I wanted to be. I didn't know my purpose, I didn't feel anything other than the pain of not having my sister here with me, I didn't understand the world anymore. I wondered if I ever did.
When your loved one dies, whether it be a spouse, a sibling, a parent, a grandparent, a dear friend, a child; they all have their own journey and pain. The similarity, though, is living life without them as they once were. I questioned God's plan, and to me it didn't make any sense at all. Of course, we all die, but why did she have to leave her children at this age? It all seemed unfair. While the world went on with their routines and plans; mine were all changed. Why were all my plans and dreams taken away? Why were the children left without a mother, here to take care of them, and do all the motherly things that they deserve? I couldn't go on living life as I once was because my sister, Chrissy, was a huge part of my life. We spoke everyday, we saw each other weekly, some weeks everyday. Our children's lives intertwined as well as our husbands. We had our challenges as a family, but we depended on each other in many ways. Those simple conversations and words of wisdom are not there, the shopping trips don't happen, the simple pleasure of sharing our kids' stories don't happen, our fears and joys aren't shared, outings with our kids are without her, planning family events are minus one. That minus one is now so different.
I think of the character, George Bailey, from the movie "It's a Wonderful Life", and I understand how one person's life has so much meaning to the rest of the world. My sister, my parents, my grandparents influenced my life in so many ways, and death brought about pain for me but also knowing. I suppose I came to point in my life last year where I was yearning for understanding. My journey last year was trying to understand my purpose, Chrissy's purpose, and the purpose of all sorts of familar friends and family. What was their purpose in my life? This passed year I have engulfed myself in much reflection, prayer and meditation. Last year, I knew I had to get out of my house more, hesitantly accepting a part-time job, requesting spiritual guidance through our church, weeding through my heart's desires and the healing has slowly but surely been happening. I make sure as I wake everyday to give thanks for all the blessings in my life, and finding peace throughout my day by making time for quiet meditation. As well as giving thanks for my blessings, I have made a conscious effort to stay true to myself and not do what is for everyone else. I can't live by the standards of anyone elses. I may not answer a phone or attend a gathering, but I know what I am able to do and what I'm not. It may offend or upset a friend or family member, but God knows what it is in my heart and what my spirit is capable of dealing with. These days I experience joy, contentment with life, gratefulness for those who understand me, forgiveness for those people who do not, and I give thanks to our angels and Higher Power.
These days my second firsts are watching Eric beginning high school, attending his marching band where he is playing percussion, watching Luke and Faith begin their new year with new teachers and watching them grow in their musical abilities and new adventures, babysitting for a toddler again who brightens my soul with his smile. These days I give thanks for my husband and his new job in Human Resources as he experiences great satisfaction with his new responsibilities. Nowadays I enjoy my second firsts in enjoying the nature that surrounds, baking at my leisure, making new friends who come into my life, welcoming new events that come our way. Sometimes I watch Maria and Frankie, sometimes while still difficult, they are making ground. Maria is a third grader and Frankie began middle school this year. The early hours are definitely grueling on Frank and Frankie, but the second firsts are are a beginning.......a beginning of new life. I look forward to the love and joy that God brings into my life. While some moments are still a remembrance of what was; I now look everyday for the second firsts. My soul is still on a journey......a journey through this life.......a journey for new beginnings.
When your loved one dies, whether it be a spouse, a sibling, a parent, a grandparent, a dear friend, a child; they all have their own journey and pain. The similarity, though, is living life without them as they once were. I questioned God's plan, and to me it didn't make any sense at all. Of course, we all die, but why did she have to leave her children at this age? It all seemed unfair. While the world went on with their routines and plans; mine were all changed. Why were all my plans and dreams taken away? Why were the children left without a mother, here to take care of them, and do all the motherly things that they deserve? I couldn't go on living life as I once was because my sister, Chrissy, was a huge part of my life. We spoke everyday, we saw each other weekly, some weeks everyday. Our children's lives intertwined as well as our husbands. We had our challenges as a family, but we depended on each other in many ways. Those simple conversations and words of wisdom are not there, the shopping trips don't happen, the simple pleasure of sharing our kids' stories don't happen, our fears and joys aren't shared, outings with our kids are without her, planning family events are minus one. That minus one is now so different.
I think of the character, George Bailey, from the movie "It's a Wonderful Life", and I understand how one person's life has so much meaning to the rest of the world. My sister, my parents, my grandparents influenced my life in so many ways, and death brought about pain for me but also knowing. I suppose I came to point in my life last year where I was yearning for understanding. My journey last year was trying to understand my purpose, Chrissy's purpose, and the purpose of all sorts of familar friends and family. What was their purpose in my life? This passed year I have engulfed myself in much reflection, prayer and meditation. Last year, I knew I had to get out of my house more, hesitantly accepting a part-time job, requesting spiritual guidance through our church, weeding through my heart's desires and the healing has slowly but surely been happening. I make sure as I wake everyday to give thanks for all the blessings in my life, and finding peace throughout my day by making time for quiet meditation. As well as giving thanks for my blessings, I have made a conscious effort to stay true to myself and not do what is for everyone else. I can't live by the standards of anyone elses. I may not answer a phone or attend a gathering, but I know what I am able to do and what I'm not. It may offend or upset a friend or family member, but God knows what it is in my heart and what my spirit is capable of dealing with. These days I experience joy, contentment with life, gratefulness for those who understand me, forgiveness for those people who do not, and I give thanks to our angels and Higher Power.
These days my second firsts are watching Eric beginning high school, attending his marching band where he is playing percussion, watching Luke and Faith begin their new year with new teachers and watching them grow in their musical abilities and new adventures, babysitting for a toddler again who brightens my soul with his smile. These days I give thanks for my husband and his new job in Human Resources as he experiences great satisfaction with his new responsibilities. Nowadays I enjoy my second firsts in enjoying the nature that surrounds, baking at my leisure, making new friends who come into my life, welcoming new events that come our way. Sometimes I watch Maria and Frankie, sometimes while still difficult, they are making ground. Maria is a third grader and Frankie began middle school this year. The early hours are definitely grueling on Frank and Frankie, but the second firsts are are a beginning.......a beginning of new life. I look forward to the love and joy that God brings into my life. While some moments are still a remembrance of what was; I now look everyday for the second firsts. My soul is still on a journey......a journey through this life.......a journey for new beginnings.
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
The Smile
Growing up in my neighborhood or going to family gatherings, a comment I often heard was, "Oh, what a beautiful smile you have." Even as I grew up, crooked teeth and all, having braces, people still said that to me. When I would be tearing up through the painstaking brace experience, extreme pain engulfing every fiber of my mouth, feeling ugly because of all the silver and extra gadgets in my mouth; I would often be comforted by my mom who would say, "Barbie, one day, you will have the most beautiful smile. Get through this, and it will all be worth it."
God I loved my mom so very much! She had her faults like any other mom or human being, but one thing that never failed was that she loved us kids to her very last breath, and I always felt that. True unconditional love is a precious commodity these days, and after talking with many a friend who didn't feel that way in their families, especially from their own parents, I feel so blessed! No one loved me more than my mom, except for God, and I can say without a doubt that she would have died for me. What a gift she was and is in my life!
Some of us use smiling when we're happy, content, using sarcasm, being manipulative or feeling uncomfortable. Perhaps there's other emotions connected with smiling, and I would venture to say that smiling was sort of a protection for me. When I was misbehaving or wanted something from my parents or teachers, I wouldn't hesitate bringing out that smile, sometimes adding a slight tilt of the head to make it even more effective. Over time, it's become a part of me in all sorts of situations, and I've learned that smiling pleases people. It's not a matter of getting what I want anymore, but it's effective in living a happy life. I think slapping on a smile calms people, and I would rather smile than wear a sour puss on my face all the time. Who wants to be around that? My smile wasn't always intentional, but it just happened. All of us are given that smiling gift, and I suppose I've learned to use it. My parents taught me to be kind and nice to people, and the smile was a way to ease into any introduction. It doesn't really matter if you have teeth or lips either, a smile permeates through our tone of voice, through our tender eyes, through the heart.
Many years ago I happened to meet a certain "professional" when I was an interpreter. She unknowingly made the comment to a dear friend of mine that the person in her classroom last year smiled too much. I must also mention that this "professional" should have never become a teacher. She was rude, arrogant and lacked so much knowledge when it came to the teaching arena. As an interpreter, I had to bite my tongue as she was barely passable as a human being, much less a teacher. I suppose that's why I must have smiled so much in her classroom. As my Aunt Marie used to say, "If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all." I would add a little more to that good advice, and say, "Smile, too, when you don't say anything!"
In all the spiritual and self-help books that I've read, they suggest that smiling not only helps the receiver but it also helps our own souls. There's definitely a chain reaction when someone smiles. Think about it. Of course, you want to be aware of your surroundings at all times, but in most situations a smile is the best gift you can give anyone. Last year sometime, I remember our parish priest talking about the gift of a smile. Perhaps we think that evangelizing about our faith in Christ has to do with knowing the Bible verses inside and out, but really that's not it at all. Our priest said that the best way you can bring someone closer to God is to share a smile. It doesn't mean that we go into a dark alley and smile at the rapist, but in everyday life let's try to smile at the grocery clerk, people at our schools, co-workers at our jobs, members of our church, our neighbors and so on. We don't always know what someone might be dealing with that day, and a smile could change their whole day......perhaps even change their lives.
As I travel this life's journey, I continue to ask many questions, but my number one question is this: "What is my purpose in life that will give glory to God?" Some days I wake with a smile, and some days it takes me a little longer to find that smile. As I continue to learn and grow, I will carry with me my smile. It's free and very effective in life. In all the turmoil that has rocked this nation lately, think of where this world might be if we all just smiled a bit more? Bare with me now, I'm feeling a bit nostalgic. I can't help but think of that song when I was a Brownie for one year, and then I quit (that's another story). If you were a Brownie, too, you'll remember it!
"I have something in my pocket, it belongs across my face. I keep it very close at hand in the most convenient place. I'm sure you couldn't guess it if you guessed a long long while. But I'll take it out and put it on, it's a great big Brownie SMILE."
Yikes it's time to go to bed!
God I loved my mom so very much! She had her faults like any other mom or human being, but one thing that never failed was that she loved us kids to her very last breath, and I always felt that. True unconditional love is a precious commodity these days, and after talking with many a friend who didn't feel that way in their families, especially from their own parents, I feel so blessed! No one loved me more than my mom, except for God, and I can say without a doubt that she would have died for me. What a gift she was and is in my life!
Some of us use smiling when we're happy, content, using sarcasm, being manipulative or feeling uncomfortable. Perhaps there's other emotions connected with smiling, and I would venture to say that smiling was sort of a protection for me. When I was misbehaving or wanted something from my parents or teachers, I wouldn't hesitate bringing out that smile, sometimes adding a slight tilt of the head to make it even more effective. Over time, it's become a part of me in all sorts of situations, and I've learned that smiling pleases people. It's not a matter of getting what I want anymore, but it's effective in living a happy life. I think slapping on a smile calms people, and I would rather smile than wear a sour puss on my face all the time. Who wants to be around that? My smile wasn't always intentional, but it just happened. All of us are given that smiling gift, and I suppose I've learned to use it. My parents taught me to be kind and nice to people, and the smile was a way to ease into any introduction. It doesn't really matter if you have teeth or lips either, a smile permeates through our tone of voice, through our tender eyes, through the heart.
Many years ago I happened to meet a certain "professional" when I was an interpreter. She unknowingly made the comment to a dear friend of mine that the person in her classroom last year smiled too much. I must also mention that this "professional" should have never become a teacher. She was rude, arrogant and lacked so much knowledge when it came to the teaching arena. As an interpreter, I had to bite my tongue as she was barely passable as a human being, much less a teacher. I suppose that's why I must have smiled so much in her classroom. As my Aunt Marie used to say, "If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all." I would add a little more to that good advice, and say, "Smile, too, when you don't say anything!"
In all the spiritual and self-help books that I've read, they suggest that smiling not only helps the receiver but it also helps our own souls. There's definitely a chain reaction when someone smiles. Think about it. Of course, you want to be aware of your surroundings at all times, but in most situations a smile is the best gift you can give anyone. Last year sometime, I remember our parish priest talking about the gift of a smile. Perhaps we think that evangelizing about our faith in Christ has to do with knowing the Bible verses inside and out, but really that's not it at all. Our priest said that the best way you can bring someone closer to God is to share a smile. It doesn't mean that we go into a dark alley and smile at the rapist, but in everyday life let's try to smile at the grocery clerk, people at our schools, co-workers at our jobs, members of our church, our neighbors and so on. We don't always know what someone might be dealing with that day, and a smile could change their whole day......perhaps even change their lives.
As I travel this life's journey, I continue to ask many questions, but my number one question is this: "What is my purpose in life that will give glory to God?" Some days I wake with a smile, and some days it takes me a little longer to find that smile. As I continue to learn and grow, I will carry with me my smile. It's free and very effective in life. In all the turmoil that has rocked this nation lately, think of where this world might be if we all just smiled a bit more? Bare with me now, I'm feeling a bit nostalgic. I can't help but think of that song when I was a Brownie for one year, and then I quit (that's another story). If you were a Brownie, too, you'll remember it!
"I have something in my pocket, it belongs across my face. I keep it very close at hand in the most convenient place. I'm sure you couldn't guess it if you guessed a long long while. But I'll take it out and put it on, it's a great big Brownie SMILE."
Yikes it's time to go to bed!
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Peace or Chaos.....Peace or Chaos???
It's been awhile since I've written for various reasons. Perhaps there hasn't been enough peace in my life.....more chaos. That is, more chaos around me, not within. Chaos of everyday life from activities with the kids, weddings, funerals, holidays, chatter.....so much chatter and noise. Some of the chaos can be good, while some of it clouds my mind. I prefer the peace of being and learning. The need for me to write has been overshadowed by other stuff.....the stuff of life, but I prefer the peace. Oh how I prefer the peace. Recently, I came to realize that peace is always within. It is there....within......but we have to take time in our lives to recognize it or the chaos can consume us. For many people the chaos is always center stage, but I can't live like that. Frankly, I can't breathe when I'm around the chaos. Ultimately, I try to wrap myself inside a shell, and I avoid it as much as possible. Others interpret that as hurtful or aloofness, but if they only understood. I am understanding, but the fast-paced world doesn't grasp that. Isn't that curious? All the drugs, pain killers and alcohol that are produced and taken daily in this country, and if we only realized that peace is there all along. That peace and love is there all along.
The weeks and months since Chrissy's passing have changed me. The moment she passed my old world didn't exist anymore.......my old way of thinking and living. A part of me died that early morning when her body died. I know without a doubt her spirit lives eternally, and it's so difficult for some of us to grasp that, especially in the intense pain of not seeing her in the flesh, but I know with all my heart.....she lives on. In the beginning of this journey when she was sick, I prayed so intently and begged for so much, not realizing the plan was already set. My hopes of her being here in the flesh were not meant to be, yet a far greater plan was in place. In the time that has passed, I've learned a great deal about myself. I long for peace, and in a world that screams chaos; it has beem challenging to find that peace......a peace that's always there and given. Ironic, isn't it? What happens, though, is that everyday life sometimes pushes us farther and farther from our true selves.....from God. That statement right there is what I can't seem to grasp. I have no problem setting up camp right here in my home, with my own peeps, but God doesn't want that for me, and I realize that. It's the setting foot out in the world that frightens me, especially when so much value is placed on financial success, career success, parental success.....a success which I think has become skewed. Society places so much value on careers, sports teams, beating everyone else to the punch that I think eternal love for human kind is becoming a joke. Look at all the chaos on our reality television. I ask myself what is this world will be like when my children grow up.
So rather than giving it lip service, I have made a conscious decision to find peace, stillness and pause daily so that perhaps it can become contagious within my own family. If my kids see it, then they'll pass it along and so on and so on........
Wouldn't that be great? If all of us stopped and really made daily conscious decisions in our life instead of going fast all the time, living in a fog, and doing what we think others expect of us. How sad for those that never stop. While they think they're doing God's work successfully; they're missing the boat. My hope is to live peacefully, and perhaps our world will live peacefully as well. It takes one person, doesn't it? Now imagine more. Peace or chaos? I know which one I prefer. Now can you figure out for yourselves where you are?
The weeks and months since Chrissy's passing have changed me. The moment she passed my old world didn't exist anymore.......my old way of thinking and living. A part of me died that early morning when her body died. I know without a doubt her spirit lives eternally, and it's so difficult for some of us to grasp that, especially in the intense pain of not seeing her in the flesh, but I know with all my heart.....she lives on. In the beginning of this journey when she was sick, I prayed so intently and begged for so much, not realizing the plan was already set. My hopes of her being here in the flesh were not meant to be, yet a far greater plan was in place. In the time that has passed, I've learned a great deal about myself. I long for peace, and in a world that screams chaos; it has beem challenging to find that peace......a peace that's always there and given. Ironic, isn't it? What happens, though, is that everyday life sometimes pushes us farther and farther from our true selves.....from God. That statement right there is what I can't seem to grasp. I have no problem setting up camp right here in my home, with my own peeps, but God doesn't want that for me, and I realize that. It's the setting foot out in the world that frightens me, especially when so much value is placed on financial success, career success, parental success.....a success which I think has become skewed. Society places so much value on careers, sports teams, beating everyone else to the punch that I think eternal love for human kind is becoming a joke. Look at all the chaos on our reality television. I ask myself what is this world will be like when my children grow up.
So rather than giving it lip service, I have made a conscious decision to find peace, stillness and pause daily so that perhaps it can become contagious within my own family. If my kids see it, then they'll pass it along and so on and so on........
Wouldn't that be great? If all of us stopped and really made daily conscious decisions in our life instead of going fast all the time, living in a fog, and doing what we think others expect of us. How sad for those that never stop. While they think they're doing God's work successfully; they're missing the boat. My hope is to live peacefully, and perhaps our world will live peacefully as well. It takes one person, doesn't it? Now imagine more. Peace or chaos? I know which one I prefer. Now can you figure out for yourselves where you are?
Sunday, July 3, 2011
Home Is Where the Heart Is
Our most recent summer family trip had to be the best trip ever, in terms of view, condo comfort, weather, new adventures and tasty food. I've been feeling disconnected for quite some time, and this trip was absolutely necessary for my soul. I suppose I'm trying to figure out where home is......where is my comfort? In my unsettled heart, I've been praying and hoping to feel alive again, to feel whole. I don't know if I'll ever feel that wholeness again. When a loved one dies, everything is different and finding peace lately felt more like a dream than a reality. I chartered new territories by parasailing with my son, Eric, on the mesmorizing ocean waters of Gulf Breeze, Florida. Guiding us in the boat were young, carefree, bleached blonde young men who didn't seem to have a care in the world. Except for figuring out where they would turn their boat as my body drifted across the skies and when to dip my feet in the warm ocean waters; nothing seemed pressing for them. What a trip that was as my legs dipped into the warm ocean waters......nothing like it! It was one of the most fantastic experiences of my life, and to do it with my oldest son was even better! To see the smile on his face was a gift in itself. As any loving mother knows, the happiness of our children is our number one priority. As we sped across the sparkling waters, our guide pretended as if the harness wasn't attached properly, and I laughed at the other passenger who sailed her way up frantically. My family along with another family traveled along in the speed boat as I screamed my way up when it was my turn. "What do I hold on to???" These were my last words as I waved goodbye to Marty and the other kids. In the warmth of the sunlight I viewed a magnificent piece of this world, and I couldn't help but thank God for what He created as I gripped the harness ever so tightly. Eventually I settled back, and that unsettled feeling left me for a while. Could this be home? Of course it was because I was sharing this experience with someone I loved. No worries engulfed me for that moment in time, and my son commented on what a great site this was......"Nothing like it, mom!"
I don't have a bucket list in my life. I never had one in the past nor will I have one for the future. I have set some goals, but in my life the goals have changed along the way with unforseen circumstances. Some people have "lists" in their life, but I don't. In this ever changing world I find the lists to be constantly changing, often becoming unreliable, often becoming only a wish. Often times in life, what you think will happen sometimes doesn't. It's fine to have dreams, but many of my dreams have already come true. I go with the flow, even with the daily routines and schedules of my life, but that doesn't always jive in real life, does it? I don't like to plan too far ahead. Yes, I have hopes and dreams for my kids and me, but I try to live each day by experiencing the moment and opportunities at hand today. I believe that we are presented with choices everyday, we make the best of them, search for our purpose and hopefully find the joys in all that we do. I believe in life and have learned that my happiness is right here in front of me. Marty, my kids, my family, and God are right here in front of me. I don't have to look for them in the oceans, in bucket lists of life or even in other people. All along happiness is where I am as long as I make it that way. Home or "comfort" is where I am with people I love and who loves me.
Many people go through life existing but not noticing all that's around them. Others fail to notice what's happening in their kids' lives, their own relationships as well as what's happening with themselves. Some people do, do, do but they don't notice, notice, notice. On this lovely trip I smiled, yelled, laughed and even cried. Yes, crying is very okay, and I find it theraputic for the soul. I didn't whither away but I did feel life! While others might feel it's a detriment to cry and feel sad; I find that it's a necessary part of growth and healing of the spirit. I want to feel all the emotions of my life. Don't get me wrong. I would prefer not to feel the aching loss of my sister's presence, but in that loss, I want to feel the emotions and release them as well and figure out what to do with that......how to live with it. It will never go away. What I find complicated in everyday life is being around people who don't deal or they mask their true emotions. It takes up too much of my energy, and I don't want to put my energies into pretending. Why have I felt unsettled? Perhaps it's dealing with the day to day moments of life, living with the sorrows along with the joys, learning to live without my sister and also pretending for those who don't know what to say.
This trip was needed on so many levels, not only for me, but for my kids and Marty, too. We haven't taken a trip like this in about three years. Here in my second year of grieving Chrissy's passing, I've been feeling unsettled for many reasons and longing to see the vast ocean that brings peace and hope. Hope that Chrissy lives with Jesus and my parents, grandparents and so many others. Hope that I will reunite with her someday. In that enormous body of water, I wanted to feel God's presence and experience the peace that seems to have been missing in my life lately. Its fair to say that I continually search for improving myself, and I felt the nudge to journey to the oceans this year. Comforts of home can be felt anywhere as long as you're surrounded by love. The views do help, but I learned that home is where the heart is. This past week home was in Gulf Breeze, FL and perhaps one day my dream of living near the ocean will happen or not. It depends on life and what God has planned for me. Until then being surrounded by people I love is where I want to be. As the saying goes, "home is where the heart is".......and that's where home will be. Whether in the St. Louis area or in the balmy breezes of the ocean, I just want to be with my loved ones.
I don't have a bucket list in my life. I never had one in the past nor will I have one for the future. I have set some goals, but in my life the goals have changed along the way with unforseen circumstances. Some people have "lists" in their life, but I don't. In this ever changing world I find the lists to be constantly changing, often becoming unreliable, often becoming only a wish. Often times in life, what you think will happen sometimes doesn't. It's fine to have dreams, but many of my dreams have already come true. I go with the flow, even with the daily routines and schedules of my life, but that doesn't always jive in real life, does it? I don't like to plan too far ahead. Yes, I have hopes and dreams for my kids and me, but I try to live each day by experiencing the moment and opportunities at hand today. I believe that we are presented with choices everyday, we make the best of them, search for our purpose and hopefully find the joys in all that we do. I believe in life and have learned that my happiness is right here in front of me. Marty, my kids, my family, and God are right here in front of me. I don't have to look for them in the oceans, in bucket lists of life or even in other people. All along happiness is where I am as long as I make it that way. Home or "comfort" is where I am with people I love and who loves me.
Many people go through life existing but not noticing all that's around them. Others fail to notice what's happening in their kids' lives, their own relationships as well as what's happening with themselves. Some people do, do, do but they don't notice, notice, notice. On this lovely trip I smiled, yelled, laughed and even cried. Yes, crying is very okay, and I find it theraputic for the soul. I didn't whither away but I did feel life! While others might feel it's a detriment to cry and feel sad; I find that it's a necessary part of growth and healing of the spirit. I want to feel all the emotions of my life. Don't get me wrong. I would prefer not to feel the aching loss of my sister's presence, but in that loss, I want to feel the emotions and release them as well and figure out what to do with that......how to live with it. It will never go away. What I find complicated in everyday life is being around people who don't deal or they mask their true emotions. It takes up too much of my energy, and I don't want to put my energies into pretending. Why have I felt unsettled? Perhaps it's dealing with the day to day moments of life, living with the sorrows along with the joys, learning to live without my sister and also pretending for those who don't know what to say.
This trip was needed on so many levels, not only for me, but for my kids and Marty, too. We haven't taken a trip like this in about three years. Here in my second year of grieving Chrissy's passing, I've been feeling unsettled for many reasons and longing to see the vast ocean that brings peace and hope. Hope that Chrissy lives with Jesus and my parents, grandparents and so many others. Hope that I will reunite with her someday. In that enormous body of water, I wanted to feel God's presence and experience the peace that seems to have been missing in my life lately. Its fair to say that I continually search for improving myself, and I felt the nudge to journey to the oceans this year. Comforts of home can be felt anywhere as long as you're surrounded by love. The views do help, but I learned that home is where the heart is. This past week home was in Gulf Breeze, FL and perhaps one day my dream of living near the ocean will happen or not. It depends on life and what God has planned for me. Until then being surrounded by people I love is where I want to be. As the saying goes, "home is where the heart is".......and that's where home will be. Whether in the St. Louis area or in the balmy breezes of the ocean, I just want to be with my loved ones.
Sunday, June 19, 2011
My Buddy
What is it that attracts us to another human being? I've often wondered that throughout my life as to why we gravitate towards certain friends and/or a significant other. Some women like the "bad boy", the intellect or the funny guy. Perhaps you're one of those cougars who is attracted to the money bags guy. I know who I'm attracted to and why. On this Father's Day I would like to dedicate my entry to my husband, Marty, who I consider an excellent husband, father and all around nice guy.
Marty and I met when I was 23 years young. My mother had just died the previous year when I was 22 so I was making a fresh start after a very difficult grieving time in my life. I didn't quite know the direction I was going, but I knew that I had to move or I would die inside myself. I know, especially now, that God had a plan for me in landing at this particular school site. Sometimes when we're in our particular lives, we don't realize the impact of certain events in our lives until much later. This school would be the place where I would meet my husband. He was a teacher in the Special School District and I was an aspiring sign language interpreter who had just been hired to work as a Teacher's Assistant during summer school. I was assigned to a Language room while Marty worked as a Behavior Disorder Teacher. (At least that's what they called it in those days) I remember the first day I met him as I was waiting for my assigned classroom in the Springdale School office. There he strolled in, wearing his athletic shorts and t-shirt, and I wondered what sort of guy would work in such a place - a phase 3 setting, geared towards students with profound challenges. Most of these kids had severe challenges such as behavior, wheelchair bound, mental delays and right off the bat I found myself attracted to him, if only for being there and doing what he did. He taught the students who were likely to be sent to juvenile hall or ones who were steps away from their parents giving up on them. My next meeting with him came when he did his paper work in our classroom because our room was one of the few classrooms in that building that had air conditioning. Of course, back then I thought his motive was to meet me, but I think at the time air conditioning in the middle of the blistering summer meant more to him.
I worked in a classroom with Magdy, another TA who happened to be from Egypt. He was quite the character. He actually encouraged me ask Marty out after I refused his suggestions to date one of his wealthy middle eastern friends. At the time, American women were disappearing in those places of the world and my imagination got the best of me. I kindly told him "no" but my mind was set on Marty. I didn't get my courage up to ask him out until many months later in the fall when I was assigned at his same school. I was at a place in my life where taking chances were the only way to live. If he told me "no" then so be it. It would be his loss, right?! That's what I told myself, but I knew I would have been devastated if he told me "no."
Our first date was supposed to be at a pig roast gathering at a friend's house, but that was cancelled so I invited him over for a home-cooked meal. Why? I don't know, because I never cooked a meal in my life really. I called my older sister, Deni, about a Meyer family favorite of Italian Steak and mashed potatoes. He politely ate them, but I know I've come a long way in my culinary skills since then. He met Chrissy that night as well, but she wasn't so fond of him because of a sarcastic comment he made. We're a very protective group of sisters, and it took her more time to get to know him. Once she did, they were the best of buddies. We had so much in common from the neighborhoods we grew up in, our Catholic and Polish backgrounds along with our family and friend connections. It just so happened my brother-in-law knew him from Riverview and they mingled among the same crowds. My sister did meet him earlier at a party, and little did she know that I would be married to him someday. Our families knew of each other from our siblings up to our great uncles who also hung out during their time. More importantly, I think we both felt the attraction towards each other and had the same sort of family upbringing. It all seemed so perfect and here we are some 23 years later, married for almost 20 years in August.
Marty's easy to please on this Father's Day weekend. All he wanted was to spend time with me and his kids and enjoy some of his favorite foods. We did the Six Flags thing yesterday and enjoyed some swim time at our community pool today. I gazed upon him from my sun bathing chair across the pool where he played with our kids and our eyes met. I love him more now than ever. You hear of so many who divorce or separate, and I can't help but wonder. Why us and why have so many others split? We talk of this often when hearing of people we know divorcing. We've come to the conclusion that we know each other too well and we talk too much to have divorce come before us. I think with the losses we've had in our lives from his parents and my parents dying at such young ages along with my sister, Chrissy; we cherish each other and what we have. We never lose sight of how important marriage and family are in this world of ours. He laughed as he saw me dip my toe in the cool pool waters, being the Princess and the Pea that I am. I don't like to plunge into cold, shocking waters suddenly....I take it cautiously and carefully.....same as I do in life. Ironically, life is more like shocking cool waters than they are pampering and caressing. Isn't life such a journey? While I do tread in the sudden cool waters in life; I still prefer taking life cautiously. Perhaps that's a lesson I am learning right now. Hmmm? Sometimes you're throw in, and you don't have a choice.
You might be wondering why I entitled today "My Buddy". Of course the obvious is that I married not only someone that I was attracted to and had a lot in common with, but I also married someone who was and is my friend who thought the same of me as I did of him. We tell each other most everything, and if we don't, we know it. Nothing is left unsaid. He might have some secrets, but his face always gives it away or perhaps I know him too well. He's also a buddy to his children along with being the final say in our family. He always supports them in their adventures and loves them unconditionally. Finally, "Buddy" was the vacation name we have given to dad. Recently, I have heard the name "mommy" and "barbie" so much that I have declared that they call me a different name during our vacation to Pensacola. I will be called, "Summer." So on this Father's Day, Summer gives many loving kudos to my husband for being the guy that he is. Once he saved my life, everyday he makes me laugh, and he will forever be my one and only love and my buddy.
On the pleasant days of marriage, gaze across at your groom and conclude he is worth it. On the difficult days of marriage, gaze up at your groom and conclude he's worth it.
Beth Moore
Marty and I met when I was 23 years young. My mother had just died the previous year when I was 22 so I was making a fresh start after a very difficult grieving time in my life. I didn't quite know the direction I was going, but I knew that I had to move or I would die inside myself. I know, especially now, that God had a plan for me in landing at this particular school site. Sometimes when we're in our particular lives, we don't realize the impact of certain events in our lives until much later. This school would be the place where I would meet my husband. He was a teacher in the Special School District and I was an aspiring sign language interpreter who had just been hired to work as a Teacher's Assistant during summer school. I was assigned to a Language room while Marty worked as a Behavior Disorder Teacher. (At least that's what they called it in those days) I remember the first day I met him as I was waiting for my assigned classroom in the Springdale School office. There he strolled in, wearing his athletic shorts and t-shirt, and I wondered what sort of guy would work in such a place - a phase 3 setting, geared towards students with profound challenges. Most of these kids had severe challenges such as behavior, wheelchair bound, mental delays and right off the bat I found myself attracted to him, if only for being there and doing what he did. He taught the students who were likely to be sent to juvenile hall or ones who were steps away from their parents giving up on them. My next meeting with him came when he did his paper work in our classroom because our room was one of the few classrooms in that building that had air conditioning. Of course, back then I thought his motive was to meet me, but I think at the time air conditioning in the middle of the blistering summer meant more to him.
I worked in a classroom with Magdy, another TA who happened to be from Egypt. He was quite the character. He actually encouraged me ask Marty out after I refused his suggestions to date one of his wealthy middle eastern friends. At the time, American women were disappearing in those places of the world and my imagination got the best of me. I kindly told him "no" but my mind was set on Marty. I didn't get my courage up to ask him out until many months later in the fall when I was assigned at his same school. I was at a place in my life where taking chances were the only way to live. If he told me "no" then so be it. It would be his loss, right?! That's what I told myself, but I knew I would have been devastated if he told me "no."
Our first date was supposed to be at a pig roast gathering at a friend's house, but that was cancelled so I invited him over for a home-cooked meal. Why? I don't know, because I never cooked a meal in my life really. I called my older sister, Deni, about a Meyer family favorite of Italian Steak and mashed potatoes. He politely ate them, but I know I've come a long way in my culinary skills since then. He met Chrissy that night as well, but she wasn't so fond of him because of a sarcastic comment he made. We're a very protective group of sisters, and it took her more time to get to know him. Once she did, they were the best of buddies. We had so much in common from the neighborhoods we grew up in, our Catholic and Polish backgrounds along with our family and friend connections. It just so happened my brother-in-law knew him from Riverview and they mingled among the same crowds. My sister did meet him earlier at a party, and little did she know that I would be married to him someday. Our families knew of each other from our siblings up to our great uncles who also hung out during their time. More importantly, I think we both felt the attraction towards each other and had the same sort of family upbringing. It all seemed so perfect and here we are some 23 years later, married for almost 20 years in August.
Marty's easy to please on this Father's Day weekend. All he wanted was to spend time with me and his kids and enjoy some of his favorite foods. We did the Six Flags thing yesterday and enjoyed some swim time at our community pool today. I gazed upon him from my sun bathing chair across the pool where he played with our kids and our eyes met. I love him more now than ever. You hear of so many who divorce or separate, and I can't help but wonder. Why us and why have so many others split? We talk of this often when hearing of people we know divorcing. We've come to the conclusion that we know each other too well and we talk too much to have divorce come before us. I think with the losses we've had in our lives from his parents and my parents dying at such young ages along with my sister, Chrissy; we cherish each other and what we have. We never lose sight of how important marriage and family are in this world of ours. He laughed as he saw me dip my toe in the cool pool waters, being the Princess and the Pea that I am. I don't like to plunge into cold, shocking waters suddenly....I take it cautiously and carefully.....same as I do in life. Ironically, life is more like shocking cool waters than they are pampering and caressing. Isn't life such a journey? While I do tread in the sudden cool waters in life; I still prefer taking life cautiously. Perhaps that's a lesson I am learning right now. Hmmm? Sometimes you're throw in, and you don't have a choice.
You might be wondering why I entitled today "My Buddy". Of course the obvious is that I married not only someone that I was attracted to and had a lot in common with, but I also married someone who was and is my friend who thought the same of me as I did of him. We tell each other most everything, and if we don't, we know it. Nothing is left unsaid. He might have some secrets, but his face always gives it away or perhaps I know him too well. He's also a buddy to his children along with being the final say in our family. He always supports them in their adventures and loves them unconditionally. Finally, "Buddy" was the vacation name we have given to dad. Recently, I have heard the name "mommy" and "barbie" so much that I have declared that they call me a different name during our vacation to Pensacola. I will be called, "Summer." So on this Father's Day, Summer gives many loving kudos to my husband for being the guy that he is. Once he saved my life, everyday he makes me laugh, and he will forever be my one and only love and my buddy.
On the pleasant days of marriage, gaze across at your groom and conclude he is worth it. On the difficult days of marriage, gaze up at your groom and conclude he's worth it.
Beth Moore
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Lemonade Stands Are Forever
What is it about the thrill of seeing a lemonade stand on the side of the road? It triggers those faint memories from long ago for many of us. Who doesn't love a good ol' fashioned lemonade stand with kiddos running the show? If you haven't a clue what I'm talking about then you may have missed out on one of the best childhood experiences of being a kid. Whenever I see a group of kids trying to sell lemonade, I can't help but think of my own childhood. Perhaps we should put a few lemonade stands in Washington then maybe there wouldn't be so many indiscretions now, would there? On this beautiful Sunday my little girl asked me if she could have a lemonade stand of her own. At first I was reluctant because there aren't many people who come down our end of the street, and creating this lemonade stand takes some time and a little bit of work. I didn't want to diminish their hopes, but at the same time I didn't want all their hard work to go unnoticed. While I like the privacy and safety of living in a culdesac; lemonade stands don't hardly stand a chance. Then I thought again about my oldest son and his lemonade stand adventures, not to mention my own childhood memories. Preparing the beverage of choice, gathering our friends around the street, purchasing treats from our neighborhood confectionary, creating the new price and feeling like we were going to strike it rich......all of it was good! How could I say "no" to her when it wasn't about the money or even the customers; rather, it's about the fun of it all and they DID! Oh, how much fun they had!
Just as I thought, the signs were created, lemonade was stirred, candy was found, a shoe box with change was given and there they were loving every minute of it! The neighbor girls, Sophia and Isabella, even encouraged Faith and Luke to let them help, and they would divy up the profits later. How clever! Luke was riding down the street on his bike with lemonade signs taped to his shirt and the boisterous girls were yelling, "Lemonade for sale...50 cents!" I made a call to my dependable dynamic duo, Susie and Cassie, informing them of our plans. I knew they wouldn't let me down. My neighbor called her sister as well. No one was beating down the stand, but there were a few other customers and our kids were having a blast! As I was planting my vegetable garden, I oversaw their activities. From the side of my house, I waved wildly to a car that I thought was my niece's car who had stopped at the front of our house. I was busy with my planting so I nonchalantly approached as the girls began to bring lemonade to the unfamiliar car. Oops, it wasn't my niece at all, and I had forgotten to tell them about the stranger rule. Luckily my neighbor was outside, too, and the stranger happened to be a nice young mom with her toddler who was cruising neighborhoods searching for a house to buy. I awkwardly laughed as I told her I thought she was someone else, but we had a friendly chat, and my little entrepreneurs were delighted. Someone actually stopped to buy a cup of their lemonade. I thought back to our lemonade stands in Glasgow Village where I was the youngest kid in the group, and my older brothers and sisters would make the rules, purchasing the sweets and naming the price. Neighborhood kids would join in with all the planning, and mom always enforcing the rules about never approaching strange cars......the customer had to come to our table. Nowadays that wouldn't keep a crazed person from snatching a child. Oh well, times have changed, but childhood lemonade stands never will.
Cassie, Susie, Lucy and Kyle finally made their way down to our special event, and all was good! Lucy embraced Faith's body like she was the best thing since sliced bread. Lucy felt like she was one of the gang just as I did so very long ago. One day, too, she'll play out this tradition and we'll celebrate life even if that means just sharing a cup of ice cold lemonade. As we shut down our stand for the day, Luke looked at me and said, "That was really fun, mom......that was a lot of fun!" The good mom moment was welcomed, saved and cherished......forever.
No matter what happens in life, some things never change and lemonade is one of them. Even when you're given lemons, we just make lemonade because lemonade stands are forever!
Just as I thought, the signs were created, lemonade was stirred, candy was found, a shoe box with change was given and there they were loving every minute of it! The neighbor girls, Sophia and Isabella, even encouraged Faith and Luke to let them help, and they would divy up the profits later. How clever! Luke was riding down the street on his bike with lemonade signs taped to his shirt and the boisterous girls were yelling, "Lemonade for sale...50 cents!" I made a call to my dependable dynamic duo, Susie and Cassie, informing them of our plans. I knew they wouldn't let me down. My neighbor called her sister as well. No one was beating down the stand, but there were a few other customers and our kids were having a blast! As I was planting my vegetable garden, I oversaw their activities. From the side of my house, I waved wildly to a car that I thought was my niece's car who had stopped at the front of our house. I was busy with my planting so I nonchalantly approached as the girls began to bring lemonade to the unfamiliar car. Oops, it wasn't my niece at all, and I had forgotten to tell them about the stranger rule. Luckily my neighbor was outside, too, and the stranger happened to be a nice young mom with her toddler who was cruising neighborhoods searching for a house to buy. I awkwardly laughed as I told her I thought she was someone else, but we had a friendly chat, and my little entrepreneurs were delighted. Someone actually stopped to buy a cup of their lemonade. I thought back to our lemonade stands in Glasgow Village where I was the youngest kid in the group, and my older brothers and sisters would make the rules, purchasing the sweets and naming the price. Neighborhood kids would join in with all the planning, and mom always enforcing the rules about never approaching strange cars......the customer had to come to our table. Nowadays that wouldn't keep a crazed person from snatching a child. Oh well, times have changed, but childhood lemonade stands never will.
Cassie, Susie, Lucy and Kyle finally made their way down to our special event, and all was good! Lucy embraced Faith's body like she was the best thing since sliced bread. Lucy felt like she was one of the gang just as I did so very long ago. One day, too, she'll play out this tradition and we'll celebrate life even if that means just sharing a cup of ice cold lemonade. As we shut down our stand for the day, Luke looked at me and said, "That was really fun, mom......that was a lot of fun!" The good mom moment was welcomed, saved and cherished......forever.
No matter what happens in life, some things never change and lemonade is one of them. Even when you're given lemons, we just make lemonade because lemonade stands are forever!
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
The Torch Carries On
Like getting a vaccine shot or going for my annual Ob/Gyn examination, that's how I felt about this Friday's Relay for Life Walk at Lafayette High School. That sounds really negative doesn't it? I don't mean to sound that way at all, but the effort in doing this for me, for my sister, for all the others, while spiritually profound.....is also emotionally draining. In fact, I found myself with virtigo the next morning, a condition that flares up more frequently in these passed few years. I've experienced this when my kids were younger, but as I've aged, it seems to have gotten worse. Anyway, enough about "aging ailments" as there's more important things in life to talk about. With this walk, familiar friendships are renewed, loving embraces with kindred spirits and heartfelt stories are abound at this walk. Some put their feet upon the track to walk in honor of a loved one, in memory for others or for themselves; I did it for my own mental health and for many who have passed onto their new life. While I consider this walk one of the best charitable causes; it wasn't something I was looking forward to. So many memories of our walks before filtered through my mind, and I knew it was going to be an emotional trip for me. Not only thinking of my sister, my parents, my relatives and friends, but thinking of those who have the cancer today....not knowing what will happen tomorrow. A phrase that has become my mantra is to "live in the moment." Not always easy to live by, but I try. I can't always count on tomorrow so I live for today. Sometimes that causes conflict in family plans, but that's where I find the most comfort......only thinking of today. For those cancer patients who are living with the disease right now, today is what counts, but they find themselves forced to plan meds and treatments for tomorrow. What is God's plan for me and where is this journey going to take me? Each person has to decide on their own what they must do in this journey......their journey of life, healing, learning and hope.
In my own journey, I felt the need to walk in this event, and I'm glad that I did. I felt as though I was carrying the torch as I walked by each name. If you've never participated in Relay for Life, the one poignant event of the night is to walk by each of the lit luminarias that line the perimeter of the track in the darkness. Many of these names are of people who have either dealt with the cancer or have died from it. Ironically, my little sister's name happened to be placed right next to my dad's name. How strange was that? Especially since I had purchased 8 of them, and my selected names were all scattered all about the track except for Chrissy Corrao who was right next to my dad's luminaria, Charles Meyer. Who would have known the connection? Usually the names are read aloud while the lights are turned off in the silence of the walk. This time they listed the names on an overhead projector while a young woman spoke of her experience in having cancer. As the lights were dimmed, she was giving hope to those who were afflicted and sharing her own journey and the positives of this cancer. Yes, there are positives to this disease. Through the pain comes learning and hope, not only for those who might get a cancer diagnosis but also for their caretakers, friends and family. In all our life experiences.......the joys, the celebrations our heartaches, divorces, diseases, and even in death.......there is hope, understanding and joy. That night, I was engulfed in my own emotions; still, I looked around and saw the impact this disease has on all families in all walks of life. How could I not be here tonight? There are so many great causes and it is up to each of you to find that one and support it. It isn't just for the cause, but it is for YOU in your journey of living.
As I walked the track with many familiar faces, I was supported by my son, Eric, who walked with me while we passed the lit up luminarias. I did not cry on the outside, but perhaps by the look on my face he knew what I was feeling inside. "Are you okay, mom?" he asked so tenderly. I choked back the tears and whispered, "I'm okay." The torch was carried on that night, not only by me, but by so many others who walked, donated, prayed and thought of us who have lived amongst the cancer journey. I walked for my sister, Chrissy, my dad -Charlie, Granny, Aunt Marie, Jeanette and David, Allison Haake, Mike Pemberton., Michael Powers, Diane Schnalzer and the countless other survivors and angels. The torch was carried on in all your names. May you all live on until we meet again.
In my own journey, I felt the need to walk in this event, and I'm glad that I did. I felt as though I was carrying the torch as I walked by each name. If you've never participated in Relay for Life, the one poignant event of the night is to walk by each of the lit luminarias that line the perimeter of the track in the darkness. Many of these names are of people who have either dealt with the cancer or have died from it. Ironically, my little sister's name happened to be placed right next to my dad's name. How strange was that? Especially since I had purchased 8 of them, and my selected names were all scattered all about the track except for Chrissy Corrao who was right next to my dad's luminaria, Charles Meyer. Who would have known the connection? Usually the names are read aloud while the lights are turned off in the silence of the walk. This time they listed the names on an overhead projector while a young woman spoke of her experience in having cancer. As the lights were dimmed, she was giving hope to those who were afflicted and sharing her own journey and the positives of this cancer. Yes, there are positives to this disease. Through the pain comes learning and hope, not only for those who might get a cancer diagnosis but also for their caretakers, friends and family. In all our life experiences.......the joys, the celebrations our heartaches, divorces, diseases, and even in death.......there is hope, understanding and joy. That night, I was engulfed in my own emotions; still, I looked around and saw the impact this disease has on all families in all walks of life. How could I not be here tonight? There are so many great causes and it is up to each of you to find that one and support it. It isn't just for the cause, but it is for YOU in your journey of living.
As I walked the track with many familiar faces, I was supported by my son, Eric, who walked with me while we passed the lit up luminarias. I did not cry on the outside, but perhaps by the look on my face he knew what I was feeling inside. "Are you okay, mom?" he asked so tenderly. I choked back the tears and whispered, "I'm okay." The torch was carried on that night, not only by me, but by so many others who walked, donated, prayed and thought of us who have lived amongst the cancer journey. I walked for my sister, Chrissy, my dad -Charlie, Granny, Aunt Marie, Jeanette and David, Allison Haake, Mike Pemberton., Michael Powers, Diane Schnalzer and the countless other survivors and angels. The torch was carried on in all your names. May you all live on until we meet again.
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Promotion Day
Tonight we attended Frankie's Promotion Ceremony at Fairway Elementary, aka "graduation ceremony" from elementary school into middle school. That's the trend these days to promote our kids to a higher level of education, giving them recognition for all their hard work up to now. This event was supposed to take place on Chrissy's birthday earlier this week, but their school had an electrical fire that day and the event was postponed until tonight. Makes me wonder if there was an intervention from above, you know what I mean? While I originally looked at the coincidence of having Frankie's graduation ceremony happening on the same day as Chrissy's birthday; I thought that somehow it might ease the pain of missing her physical absence. Perhaps making this day about celebrating Frankie's success might take away some of the attention I put on thinking about the loss of my sister. What was I thinking??? It's amazing how the mind plays tricks on our heart, isn't it? Only to survive the pain of missing our loved ones, we come up with these stories.
The bottom line is this: nothing will ever take away the pain.....it will always be there. What I have to determine is how to make sense of my life and how to live my life without her in it. That's the challenge......amongst many other challenges that comes from the loss of a loved one. That sits foremost in my mind: how do I live this life without her and still FEEL? Some days I go through the motions; I have no other choice. My kids and husband depend on me, and I do it. I am a wife and mother, and I owe it to them to be available to them. God guides me through most days, and this I know, because I couldn't do it on my own.
Tonight we all felt it as we watched my nephew walk forward in this procession awaiting the call of his name. The order was given to hold the applause as there were over 100 5th graders. Of course, there were the few comical "shout outs" for a few students or claps here and there, but for Frankie it was different. The family was all scattered about as the gymnasium was packed. Even standing room was filled to the brim, and my neice and I were sitting next to each other, both feeling the pangs of what was about to happen. My heart felt anxious in that moment as I anticipated the mention of his name. As I glanced around the Fairway gymnasium, there it was: A sign that read "Chrissy's Crusaders." Fairway was getting ready for their Rockwood Relay Walk for Life, and after Chrissy's passing, they named their school team, "Chrissy's Crusaders" in memory of my sister. There it loomed before me, and I held back the tears. I knew she was with us in spirit, calling out a "shout out" to us that she was present with her boy and with us, too. As I gazed upon the wall, I thought of my own walk that I would be taking next week in support of this great cause. I took my eyes off the words when I heard his name, not sure what I would do. My instinct was to go against the rules and scream his name aloud for all to notice. Then it happened, once he walked the stage loud claps rang out, more than just the usual members of the family. Many were giving applause to our Frankie, and then I shouted, "Frankie!" I clapped proudly for this young man of ours. I yelled for him because I knew she would have done it if she were here. Your mother loved you, Frankie, because even before this day, you were promoted already in her eyes.
The bottom line is this: nothing will ever take away the pain.....it will always be there. What I have to determine is how to make sense of my life and how to live my life without her in it. That's the challenge......amongst many other challenges that comes from the loss of a loved one. That sits foremost in my mind: how do I live this life without her and still FEEL? Some days I go through the motions; I have no other choice. My kids and husband depend on me, and I do it. I am a wife and mother, and I owe it to them to be available to them. God guides me through most days, and this I know, because I couldn't do it on my own.
Tonight we all felt it as we watched my nephew walk forward in this procession awaiting the call of his name. The order was given to hold the applause as there were over 100 5th graders. Of course, there were the few comical "shout outs" for a few students or claps here and there, but for Frankie it was different. The family was all scattered about as the gymnasium was packed. Even standing room was filled to the brim, and my neice and I were sitting next to each other, both feeling the pangs of what was about to happen. My heart felt anxious in that moment as I anticipated the mention of his name. As I glanced around the Fairway gymnasium, there it was: A sign that read "Chrissy's Crusaders." Fairway was getting ready for their Rockwood Relay Walk for Life, and after Chrissy's passing, they named their school team, "Chrissy's Crusaders" in memory of my sister. There it loomed before me, and I held back the tears. I knew she was with us in spirit, calling out a "shout out" to us that she was present with her boy and with us, too. As I gazed upon the wall, I thought of my own walk that I would be taking next week in support of this great cause. I took my eyes off the words when I heard his name, not sure what I would do. My instinct was to go against the rules and scream his name aloud for all to notice. Then it happened, once he walked the stage loud claps rang out, more than just the usual members of the family. Many were giving applause to our Frankie, and then I shouted, "Frankie!" I clapped proudly for this young man of ours. I yelled for him because I knew she would have done it if she were here. Your mother loved you, Frankie, because even before this day, you were promoted already in her eyes.
Sunday, May 22, 2011
My Chrissy Tree
It's been a running joke in my family about this tree I've wanted for quite some time. A few years back, I had a Japanese Maple Seedling that was doing fairly well, then a frost hit St. Louis one winter, and the tree never seemed to recover.....it had died. I love the Japanese Maple with its deep purplish hue and willowy leaves that somehow seem reminiscent of my childhood......a comforting memory. I can't quite put my finger on it, but it makes me think of home. Perhaps we had a Japanese Maple out front, but I never knew it by name? My memory escapes me. Whatever the reason, I've always wanted one and felt a connection to it for some reason.
Well, since the tree died, even though I asked for a new one, I would get other lovely gifts instead, like a flat screened TV or niknaks or other interesting gifts on my birthday or Mother's Day or anniversaries. Grateful, yes, but those gifts weren't quite the tree that I longed for. In these past couple of months, I've felt like I was riding on the coat tails of life. Going where I had to be, wherever commitments took me, but I really haven't had a chance to breathe. All you moms know what I'm talking about: those end of the school year recitals, recoginition ceremonies, field trips, field days, church sacramental years.......the list goes on and on. Every time I would see a familiar mom, the fatigue of it all resonated. Don't let me sound ungrateful for those moments, but I felt as though I wasn't able to think about her as much, and that was making me crabby. I knew this of myself, and these days lately, I have felt like I had no control. This month, in addition to all those events were other bittersweet holidays......... there would be Mother's Day, my sister's wedding anniversary and on Tuesday, her birthday. She would have been 43 years old on May 24th had her body survived the cancer. It just so happens, her Frankie is also having a graduation ceremony from elementary school on that very day. The emotional toll, while some of it full of celebrations, is also an emotional sword that pierces the heart.
For those of us who grieve, you know that each day, each week, each month, each year doesn't lessen the pain. In fact, as time goes on, the pain intensifies because the lack of her presence in real life, real living is non-existent. We are still trying to find our way without her, and it's still awkward. Oh yes, we laugh, we smile, we find the blessings of those still here and the tears are held back or kept in private mostly, but sometimes they aren't, atleast for me. The other day, I was talking to my neice about the emotional pain her children felt on Mother's Day, their tears, their awkwardness when others at school were making gifts for their mother, what did they do? Their school was sensitive to their needs, but it's still a door that has to be walked through, each and every year. I know this because I felt it, too, after my mom passed, and I was 22 years old, and my dad passed when I was in elementary school. I can only imagine what goes through Maria and Frankie's mind. I can only imagine.......and then I cry for their loss.
One of my New Year's Resolutions was to question God less, and I've been successful some of the time, and still faultering when it comes to my sister's death. I hear of other losses of young people, too young to die, and I am weak, I question it. Why does a young child have to bear this burden......the loss of a parent? Why does a parent have bear the loss of their young child? I don't understand, and I never will. I have come to the conclusion that God knows this of me. For now, that's all I can say about that.
But back to the tree. One of the blessings of this Mother's Day was when Marty gave me a Mother's Day Card while I was in my bedroom, sitting in my comfy chair. He said to look outside, and there below my bedroom window was the Japanese Maple Tree. What he didn't know is that I longed to have one in remembrance of my sister. In my mind, it was a memory of my childhood, a memory of my sister, our home, our family. I didn't want something far away in a park somewhere; I needed to have it near me, something tangible that I could see everyday as I set off in the grips of life. So there you have it......a childhood memory.......a reminder of life.......love.......my Chrissy Tree.
Well, since the tree died, even though I asked for a new one, I would get other lovely gifts instead, like a flat screened TV or niknaks or other interesting gifts on my birthday or Mother's Day or anniversaries. Grateful, yes, but those gifts weren't quite the tree that I longed for. In these past couple of months, I've felt like I was riding on the coat tails of life. Going where I had to be, wherever commitments took me, but I really haven't had a chance to breathe. All you moms know what I'm talking about: those end of the school year recitals, recoginition ceremonies, field trips, field days, church sacramental years.......the list goes on and on. Every time I would see a familiar mom, the fatigue of it all resonated. Don't let me sound ungrateful for those moments, but I felt as though I wasn't able to think about her as much, and that was making me crabby. I knew this of myself, and these days lately, I have felt like I had no control. This month, in addition to all those events were other bittersweet holidays......... there would be Mother's Day, my sister's wedding anniversary and on Tuesday, her birthday. She would have been 43 years old on May 24th had her body survived the cancer. It just so happens, her Frankie is also having a graduation ceremony from elementary school on that very day. The emotional toll, while some of it full of celebrations, is also an emotional sword that pierces the heart.
For those of us who grieve, you know that each day, each week, each month, each year doesn't lessen the pain. In fact, as time goes on, the pain intensifies because the lack of her presence in real life, real living is non-existent. We are still trying to find our way without her, and it's still awkward. Oh yes, we laugh, we smile, we find the blessings of those still here and the tears are held back or kept in private mostly, but sometimes they aren't, atleast for me. The other day, I was talking to my neice about the emotional pain her children felt on Mother's Day, their tears, their awkwardness when others at school were making gifts for their mother, what did they do? Their school was sensitive to their needs, but it's still a door that has to be walked through, each and every year. I know this because I felt it, too, after my mom passed, and I was 22 years old, and my dad passed when I was in elementary school. I can only imagine what goes through Maria and Frankie's mind. I can only imagine.......and then I cry for their loss.
One of my New Year's Resolutions was to question God less, and I've been successful some of the time, and still faultering when it comes to my sister's death. I hear of other losses of young people, too young to die, and I am weak, I question it. Why does a young child have to bear this burden......the loss of a parent? Why does a parent have bear the loss of their young child? I don't understand, and I never will. I have come to the conclusion that God knows this of me. For now, that's all I can say about that.
But back to the tree. One of the blessings of this Mother's Day was when Marty gave me a Mother's Day Card while I was in my bedroom, sitting in my comfy chair. He said to look outside, and there below my bedroom window was the Japanese Maple Tree. What he didn't know is that I longed to have one in remembrance of my sister. In my mind, it was a memory of my childhood, a memory of my sister, our home, our family. I didn't want something far away in a park somewhere; I needed to have it near me, something tangible that I could see everyday as I set off in the grips of life. So there you have it......a childhood memory.......a reminder of life.......love.......my Chrissy Tree.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Motherly Love
As I reflect on this Mother's Day, there's so many levels of a mother's love that only a mother knows. My own mother is a hero in my book, knowing that she raised five children in her life's challenges. She, herself was seriously ill, my dad was dying with cancer; yet, she found her way, by the grace of God, she pulled it off. She encouraged us to have faith in God no matter what happened, she made sure we were fed, dressed, had a roof over our heads and she prepared us for life's many trials and tribulations, along with all the joys, too. It is only now in these adult years of my life as I raise my own children, that I truly recognize the eternal love she had for us. I always felt it, that undying devotion to us; yet, caring for my own children puts a whole new perspective on a mother's journey and what that means. In this world in which we live there are unspeakable crimes against children by their parents, a mother's rage and depression taken out on her own children, and I can't comprehend that. It doesn't even make sense to me. I may offend some readers here, but I don't understand when a mother kills her own.....I don't get it. Why not kill yourself if you're that depressed? Perhaps I am ignorant of mental illness, an unknown pain that is foreign to me, but as a mother, I can't relate to such crimes on children.
On this Mother's Day, I see Frankie and Maria, who have spoken of this day, feeling the pangs of loss without their mother. Maria, especially speaks of her pain to her sister friend, cousin and confidant, Faith, with whom she shared of her sadness this day. My daughter, Faith, tries to cheer her up by decorating her bedroom with streamers and ribbons, knowing that Maria will share some of this day with us. It doesn't make up for the loss, but she tries.....we try. I also think of my own mother, and this day for me, too, is met with a bitter sweetness since the day of her death, that only those of us who have lost our mothers knows.
On this Mother's Day, I think of all those mothers who have lost a child, and for them, it has to be met with overwhelming emotions, a river of tears knowing of what was lost and how it's changed their family, their own life's journey. How it must have changed their heart......forever. On this day, I am shocked with the tragedy that has yet again knocked on our door, learning of the untimely death of Eric's mentor, his Rockband teacher, Matthew Kovis. I found myself on this day sharing our Christian faith and belief in God and what His plans are for us, only to speak of what has happened to Eric about his beloved teacher. I am met with gutteral tears and utter disbelief from my dear son. I think of Matt's family as they try to grasp what has happened in this untimely fatal car crash. What must his mother be thinking? What must she be feeling? How does one cope at a time like this? If she is feeling anything but shock right now, it must feel like being hit in the stomach with a huge boulder, and perhaps that doesn't even come close to what the pain must truly feel like. I don't want to know that pain.....none of us does......and none of knows, do we? It could happen at any time, anywhere.
No matter where our mothers are, I know my mother had eternal love for us, her children. There's no love like a mother towards her children, and I was blessed to have had the mother I did. While so many parental relationships are disconnected, ours wasn't. She made it quite clear to us, her children, that family is first, last and always, and I've tried to honor that with my own children and husband. I long to feel the embrace of my mother, but I know I was blessed to have her hugs for as long as I did. While some have never felt that love, there was never any doubt with our own mother. She herself knew and believed her life's purpose was to be a mother, and she honored that gift.
On this mother's day, I want to extend a Happy Mother's Day to all of you lovely mothers and give thanks to my creator for the mother that was given to me. I also pray for Matt's family and mother as they try to sort through the tragedy that has happened. I did meet Matt's mother on a few occasions when we both watched our sons do what they loved most, playing music. I thank Matt for his support and guidance to my son, giving him guidance and confidence in his own abilities. That I'm sure was learned by his own mother, a motherly love.
On this Mother's Day, I see Frankie and Maria, who have spoken of this day, feeling the pangs of loss without their mother. Maria, especially speaks of her pain to her sister friend, cousin and confidant, Faith, with whom she shared of her sadness this day. My daughter, Faith, tries to cheer her up by decorating her bedroom with streamers and ribbons, knowing that Maria will share some of this day with us. It doesn't make up for the loss, but she tries.....we try. I also think of my own mother, and this day for me, too, is met with a bitter sweetness since the day of her death, that only those of us who have lost our mothers knows.
On this Mother's Day, I think of all those mothers who have lost a child, and for them, it has to be met with overwhelming emotions, a river of tears knowing of what was lost and how it's changed their family, their own life's journey. How it must have changed their heart......forever. On this day, I am shocked with the tragedy that has yet again knocked on our door, learning of the untimely death of Eric's mentor, his Rockband teacher, Matthew Kovis. I found myself on this day sharing our Christian faith and belief in God and what His plans are for us, only to speak of what has happened to Eric about his beloved teacher. I am met with gutteral tears and utter disbelief from my dear son. I think of Matt's family as they try to grasp what has happened in this untimely fatal car crash. What must his mother be thinking? What must she be feeling? How does one cope at a time like this? If she is feeling anything but shock right now, it must feel like being hit in the stomach with a huge boulder, and perhaps that doesn't even come close to what the pain must truly feel like. I don't want to know that pain.....none of us does......and none of knows, do we? It could happen at any time, anywhere.
No matter where our mothers are, I know my mother had eternal love for us, her children. There's no love like a mother towards her children, and I was blessed to have had the mother I did. While so many parental relationships are disconnected, ours wasn't. She made it quite clear to us, her children, that family is first, last and always, and I've tried to honor that with my own children and husband. I long to feel the embrace of my mother, but I know I was blessed to have her hugs for as long as I did. While some have never felt that love, there was never any doubt with our own mother. She herself knew and believed her life's purpose was to be a mother, and she honored that gift.
On this mother's day, I want to extend a Happy Mother's Day to all of you lovely mothers and give thanks to my creator for the mother that was given to me. I also pray for Matt's family and mother as they try to sort through the tragedy that has happened. I did meet Matt's mother on a few occasions when we both watched our sons do what they loved most, playing music. I thank Matt for his support and guidance to my son, giving him guidance and confidence in his own abilities. That I'm sure was learned by his own mother, a motherly love.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Easter Miracles
With this Easter weekend, Christians reflect upon Christ's last supper, suffering, death and resurrection. People in the St. Louis area giving more indepth pause perhaps than in previous years. For some, we don't take this time of year to think of the great sacrifices of our Lord, but when tragedy strikes we tend to take more notice of what's around us and who might be responsible for our existence. Some of us think about it all year long. It's the core of who we are as Christians and what we believe. Some think it's the birth of Christ that is pivotal in our faith, but many prophets fortold of the coming of Christ. Easter pinpoints our reason for hope, joy and eternal happiness; knowing that eternal life is within our grasp after earthly death.
It's shocking for many who live in this tornado stricken St. Louis area that no reports of serious injury or death occurred. Here's one of those times I give thanks to God for his miracles.....this Easter miracle. I am not a scientist or even claim to have the knowledge base to say what ignites tornados other than hot and cold masses of air coming together to create turbulent wind storms we call "tornados". I am more of a believer in Christ who admits that His hand was involved in the saving of many lives this weekend. Some might think that God created these storms, while others believe in a free choice world, all happenings are possible......even death. What gives me hope is that there is the miracle of new life, eternal life.
My life has changed forever, not only with my sister's death, but with the death's of my parents. Losing each loved one to death has changed me drastically. More change at times than I want to accept, but it's not my plan; it is the plan of one greater than me. Just as those families who lost their homes this weekend, never expecting it could happen to them, I didn't think my sister would die so young. Young is a relative term, but for me young means so much life yet to be lived here on earth. At any time, death is possible, and it can happen to any of us at any time. We all know death is inevitible; yet, there is the hope of the Easter miracle to be reunited with all our loved ones again in eternal life. My words can't even begin to describe what that reunion will be like. As my family celebrated on Saturday this Easter holiday, I was pleasantly surprised by the joy I felt. Maybe a few "sips" of wine helped, but it went beyond that. For the first time since my sister's death, I was able to feel joy during a holiday gathering. Joy filled my heart as we reminisced over past stories, not only of her, but of us, too. Laughing at the simple joys of our lives gave me renewed hope. One who is grieving realizes this in our minds, but it takes a while for this to settle into our hearts and souls. This doesn't mean that grief isn't still there; it always will be. We are learning to live again.....slowly but surely.
While we take each step moving and hoping, Easter miracles happen all year long. Especially right now when tornadic weather enforces loss of tangible, emotional devastation; no lives appear to have been taken. Some people may have lost their homes, treasured photos, comfortable furniture, personal items and that leaves them in a state of utter shock; yet, miraculously they still have their families and friends intact here to celebrate and live. I don't mean to minimize what has been taken in this tragedy. I haven't experienced this myself, but I have listened to those interviewed, and while overwhelming and extremely frightening, they still give thanks for no lives being lost. I believe in Easter miracles not only today but everyday if we continue to believe and take notice. I pray for all of those people in the days ahead who will be searching in the rubble to have hope......hope for better days......hope for Easter miracles.
If the only prayer you ever say in life is "thank you," that would suffice.
It's shocking for many who live in this tornado stricken St. Louis area that no reports of serious injury or death occurred. Here's one of those times I give thanks to God for his miracles.....this Easter miracle. I am not a scientist or even claim to have the knowledge base to say what ignites tornados other than hot and cold masses of air coming together to create turbulent wind storms we call "tornados". I am more of a believer in Christ who admits that His hand was involved in the saving of many lives this weekend. Some might think that God created these storms, while others believe in a free choice world, all happenings are possible......even death. What gives me hope is that there is the miracle of new life, eternal life.
My life has changed forever, not only with my sister's death, but with the death's of my parents. Losing each loved one to death has changed me drastically. More change at times than I want to accept, but it's not my plan; it is the plan of one greater than me. Just as those families who lost their homes this weekend, never expecting it could happen to them, I didn't think my sister would die so young. Young is a relative term, but for me young means so much life yet to be lived here on earth. At any time, death is possible, and it can happen to any of us at any time. We all know death is inevitible; yet, there is the hope of the Easter miracle to be reunited with all our loved ones again in eternal life. My words can't even begin to describe what that reunion will be like. As my family celebrated on Saturday this Easter holiday, I was pleasantly surprised by the joy I felt. Maybe a few "sips" of wine helped, but it went beyond that. For the first time since my sister's death, I was able to feel joy during a holiday gathering. Joy filled my heart as we reminisced over past stories, not only of her, but of us, too. Laughing at the simple joys of our lives gave me renewed hope. One who is grieving realizes this in our minds, but it takes a while for this to settle into our hearts and souls. This doesn't mean that grief isn't still there; it always will be. We are learning to live again.....slowly but surely.
While we take each step moving and hoping, Easter miracles happen all year long. Especially right now when tornadic weather enforces loss of tangible, emotional devastation; no lives appear to have been taken. Some people may have lost their homes, treasured photos, comfortable furniture, personal items and that leaves them in a state of utter shock; yet, miraculously they still have their families and friends intact here to celebrate and live. I don't mean to minimize what has been taken in this tragedy. I haven't experienced this myself, but I have listened to those interviewed, and while overwhelming and extremely frightening, they still give thanks for no lives being lost. I believe in Easter miracles not only today but everyday if we continue to believe and take notice. I pray for all of those people in the days ahead who will be searching in the rubble to have hope......hope for better days......hope for Easter miracles.
If the only prayer you ever say in life is "thank you," that would suffice.
Friday, April 22, 2011
The "Quiet"
For those of us that grieve, we understand what that quiet means. It is a blessing to me when friends and family leave me in that quiet and understand. They may sense my absence of words and send emails or cards but don't expect a response. They just know as I know with them.....we are connected in spirit that way. Some of us have experienced similiar paths and different ones, too, but we just know without speaking. I appreciate those who "check in" if you will, and sometimes I respond, and other times I don't. No need to worry.....that's where I find myself.....that's where it's more clear for me.....in the quiet.....the quiet in my mind, my soul, my heart. With quiet comes clarity and for me my loved ones become more present in that quiet, those living and those in the non-living. Even in a crowd, I can feel the quiet. I have learned to tune out the noise, atleast most times. There are moments when my children talk of their day, and I give it my all to listen, and that isn't always easy, especially when I find myself at the end of my strength for the day. Sometimes a dear friend may want to chat, and I really want to say, "Stop, please, take a breath," and my mind may drift into that quiet and peace. Not always easy at certain moments, but I have to go there. It's survival for my spirit, it's a must.
As I prepare for our Easter Brunch at my house, a tradition that has been in my family ever since I can remember; I think of her and them in my quiet. A while back, we changed the Easter Brunch to Saturday, so I reflect in the quiet of past Easter celebrations, and I think of all of us kids searching for our baskets. Grandma always using shoe boxes with our names on white hard-boiled eggs, always in the same familiar hiding places. Even into our teenage years, until the death of my grandma, we were always searching for her "baskets." I think my sister, Susie, was married, and she still had to hunt for grandma's basket. We loved it! The day will be different, as all our days have been since her death, but we will carry out the traditions as we always have......perhaps adding some new ones.
The other day I attended a funeral mass, and there I found myself in the quiet. My mouth was moving, but my mind was in the quiet. God only knows what I said to people or how I acted, I'm not sure. Honestly, I don't care what anyone may have thought, and perhaps they don't even know. A few times one of my sisters was asking me questions, and I think I said, "I don't know." It's important to be present, but it's also important to be in the quiet, and I realized that many never take the time to be in the quiet.
Sometimes the quiet is a tearful place, there's no energy to give, a numbness, a disconnect. With Frankie's birthday yesterday, I stepped out of the quiet and actually laughed and talked of Chrissy. We all laughed, and it was good. My fear was that if I stayed there out of the quiet, I will not find my quiet place again, I will not feel her or my loved ones who have passed on to their new life. In one sense they're brought to life by the humorous memories; yet, in another sense, I forget a part of them, I forget me, and I don't want to forget.
The quiet is different for all of us who grieve; yet, it's understood. I'd like to share something that happened in my quiet as I was reflecting, thinking of the one who had passed at this funeral I attended. While my relationship with this person was not a close one, far from it. In fact, I had some interesting thoughts of this spirit, and I wondered where she might be. I thought about her kids and the impact she had on them or not? I wondered about my own soul, my actions, my purpose as a mother. I watched my great neice, Lucy, ramble about the pew, the floor, watching her daring spirit test the limits of my husband as he patiently removed her from unsafe situations. I wasn't aware of this at the time, but later learned from my husaband as I reflected in the quiet of my mind, that our precious little Lucy did something out of the ordinary. As she played around in her childish mind of dreams and carefree ways, she lifted her head ever so carefully, pursed her tiny little lips, made a manly sound and shot a quid across a couple of pews. Luckily, no one was the recipient of this spit, but it made its way to an empty pew. In the quiet of my mind, unfortunately I missed this spectacle. Had I witnessed such a sport, I would have lost it! I honestly would have brought noise back into my mind, into the solemn church and lost it! God knows that the quiet saved me that day. More of us need the quiet, for whatever happens in your life, quiet is good. Quiet saved me; otherwise, I would have been the spectacle that day. Quiet saves me most days in more ways than I can express. Living in the quiet is needed.....not only for me.....but for those who grieve.
As I prepare for our Easter Brunch at my house, a tradition that has been in my family ever since I can remember; I think of her and them in my quiet. A while back, we changed the Easter Brunch to Saturday, so I reflect in the quiet of past Easter celebrations, and I think of all of us kids searching for our baskets. Grandma always using shoe boxes with our names on white hard-boiled eggs, always in the same familiar hiding places. Even into our teenage years, until the death of my grandma, we were always searching for her "baskets." I think my sister, Susie, was married, and she still had to hunt for grandma's basket. We loved it! The day will be different, as all our days have been since her death, but we will carry out the traditions as we always have......perhaps adding some new ones.
The other day I attended a funeral mass, and there I found myself in the quiet. My mouth was moving, but my mind was in the quiet. God only knows what I said to people or how I acted, I'm not sure. Honestly, I don't care what anyone may have thought, and perhaps they don't even know. A few times one of my sisters was asking me questions, and I think I said, "I don't know." It's important to be present, but it's also important to be in the quiet, and I realized that many never take the time to be in the quiet.
Sometimes the quiet is a tearful place, there's no energy to give, a numbness, a disconnect. With Frankie's birthday yesterday, I stepped out of the quiet and actually laughed and talked of Chrissy. We all laughed, and it was good. My fear was that if I stayed there out of the quiet, I will not find my quiet place again, I will not feel her or my loved ones who have passed on to their new life. In one sense they're brought to life by the humorous memories; yet, in another sense, I forget a part of them, I forget me, and I don't want to forget.
The quiet is different for all of us who grieve; yet, it's understood. I'd like to share something that happened in my quiet as I was reflecting, thinking of the one who had passed at this funeral I attended. While my relationship with this person was not a close one, far from it. In fact, I had some interesting thoughts of this spirit, and I wondered where she might be. I thought about her kids and the impact she had on them or not? I wondered about my own soul, my actions, my purpose as a mother. I watched my great neice, Lucy, ramble about the pew, the floor, watching her daring spirit test the limits of my husband as he patiently removed her from unsafe situations. I wasn't aware of this at the time, but later learned from my husaband as I reflected in the quiet of my mind, that our precious little Lucy did something out of the ordinary. As she played around in her childish mind of dreams and carefree ways, she lifted her head ever so carefully, pursed her tiny little lips, made a manly sound and shot a quid across a couple of pews. Luckily, no one was the recipient of this spit, but it made its way to an empty pew. In the quiet of my mind, unfortunately I missed this spectacle. Had I witnessed such a sport, I would have lost it! I honestly would have brought noise back into my mind, into the solemn church and lost it! God knows that the quiet saved me that day. More of us need the quiet, for whatever happens in your life, quiet is good. Quiet saved me; otherwise, I would have been the spectacle that day. Quiet saves me most days in more ways than I can express. Living in the quiet is needed.....not only for me.....but for those who grieve.
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Sweet Pea
How is it that my oldest son was given this nickname by me? Clearly, once you know him as I do, his heart alone speaks the name......sweetness, thus transformed to "Sweet Pea." As Eric approaches the age of 15 in August, I don't think he would appreciate me yelling out the car window to him "Love you Sweet Pea" but between you and me, that's who he is. He has always been an old soul and has empathy of one who has lived into their retirement years. As a child, he never gave me a moments worth of grief, unless you count some sleepless nights or lack of social interactions with his peers. Other than that, he has always been one who was eager to please.
Most moms would probably agree that the birth of their child is memorable. Not only are the pain memories of Eric's birth clear in my mind, but the specifics of that day are vivid in my mind as well. I not only remember the day of his birth, but I also remember the day when I knew I was pregnant with this precious soul. It wasn't necessarily a pregnancy that Marty and I had planned, but it was welcome and happened when it should have. We had been married about 4 years, and I think both of us were afraid of parenting.....never sure when that right time would be. Perhaps by the nudging of a higher power greater than this universe, the plan was set in place. Feeling little quirks and tiredness, not to mention that time of the month was passed due, I knew what was most likely inside. With the reliable pregnancy kit, I came to realize what I knew all along. Before taking the pregnancy test, I mentioned it to Marty, and all I remember was seeing fear pass across his face, and I think he started to munch on some chips. Of course he was thrilled, but we had that sense that NOW we were really "grown ups", it was official.
The pregancy went without a hitch other than its usual stomach upset and tiredness. We came home from our 3rd or 4th Lamaze Class, and low and behold I think my water broke. It was mid August and so terribly muggy and hot. I didn't know if I was just "damp" down there or had something really happened??? After calling my older sister, she said to call my Ob/Gyn......I layed in the bed, unable to sleep because of all the unknowns ahead. I thought about what my mom would think, having another grandchild. Although she lived in the spiritual realm, I knew that she was so thrilled. We didn't know if this baby would be a boy or girl, but as I lay in my bed, thinking of us as parents, I made my way to the bathroom. It was official, the flood gates had broken. The dampness was a slow leak that had turned into a gusher. I yelled to Marty that my water had broken, never having felt any glimmer of labor pains. We had gone to our Lamaze Class earlier in the evening practicing "pushing" and the teacher had said I wasn't doing it correctly. What did she know!? I think I literally made my water break.....that's how good I was. We arrived later that night into the wee hours of the next morning, and that baby "Sweet Pea" didn't come out until around 5:00 p.m. later that day. Yes, it was the longest, most memorable labor I had of my three children. I'm sure I screamed and moaned a few negative terms that day, probably deserved as Marty made his "funny" remarks or left the room without asking. Every mom in labor knows that the man must ask permission before doing anything during this turbulent time.
The labor was long and painful as I didn't get my epidural until I was at 8 1/2 cm. Long story, much too long to relive, but it was memorable. What I do recall most were my sisters being there, all wanting to see the actual birth of this baby coming out. "Hah, were they kidding???!!!" One who could barely show my belly, and they thought I would bare ALL of IT???? I politely asked them to exit the room, and shortly after, this beautiful wide-eyed small baby was born, and he looked exactly like my husband. He didn't cry; rather, he searched the room, and when I said, "hello" this precious baby's eyes met mine, and I fell in love with him. I loved him before, but this moment was ours, just the two of us. It didn't matter who was in the room, but his soul was forever linked to mine. How blessed am I!
Since then, I've learned the kind, cool spirit of this young man who beats to his own drum. He isn't swayed by peer pressure, and he has never cared what anyone thinks except his mom or dad. He makes those oh so right gestures without being told......he just seems to know. The moment he was born, his smile and big blue eyes took my breath away, and they forever will. He isn't one for sports, but he loves nostalgia and playing the drums. While most kids his age are talking on their cell phones or playing video games, my son searches out garage or estate sales, looking for the best bargain and truly enjoys chopping wood or listening to old time rock n roll. While some teens can be tormenting and harsh at times, it pulls at my heartstrings to see him be the recipient of their comments. For Eric, though, he doesn't give it a second thought. As he's told me before, I don't care mom, those girls are just goofy. Some day they will know the rare commodity of this young man, and they will wish he'd look their way. I know better, though, as he will find the heart the heart that matches him. If by chance he meets the wrong sort, one who doesn't appreciate the young man that he is, I will make sure she wish she had never met me. (smile) Does that sound like the mother bear protecting her cub? I don't think I'll have to worry about that, though, because Eric is a wise old soul. Some say mothers know best, but in the case of my son, Eric, he knows what's best. He will never be none other than my Sweet Pea.
"No love is greater than a mother for her child"
Most moms would probably agree that the birth of their child is memorable. Not only are the pain memories of Eric's birth clear in my mind, but the specifics of that day are vivid in my mind as well. I not only remember the day of his birth, but I also remember the day when I knew I was pregnant with this precious soul. It wasn't necessarily a pregnancy that Marty and I had planned, but it was welcome and happened when it should have. We had been married about 4 years, and I think both of us were afraid of parenting.....never sure when that right time would be. Perhaps by the nudging of a higher power greater than this universe, the plan was set in place. Feeling little quirks and tiredness, not to mention that time of the month was passed due, I knew what was most likely inside. With the reliable pregnancy kit, I came to realize what I knew all along. Before taking the pregnancy test, I mentioned it to Marty, and all I remember was seeing fear pass across his face, and I think he started to munch on some chips. Of course he was thrilled, but we had that sense that NOW we were really "grown ups", it was official.
The pregancy went without a hitch other than its usual stomach upset and tiredness. We came home from our 3rd or 4th Lamaze Class, and low and behold I think my water broke. It was mid August and so terribly muggy and hot. I didn't know if I was just "damp" down there or had something really happened??? After calling my older sister, she said to call my Ob/Gyn......I layed in the bed, unable to sleep because of all the unknowns ahead. I thought about what my mom would think, having another grandchild. Although she lived in the spiritual realm, I knew that she was so thrilled. We didn't know if this baby would be a boy or girl, but as I lay in my bed, thinking of us as parents, I made my way to the bathroom. It was official, the flood gates had broken. The dampness was a slow leak that had turned into a gusher. I yelled to Marty that my water had broken, never having felt any glimmer of labor pains. We had gone to our Lamaze Class earlier in the evening practicing "pushing" and the teacher had said I wasn't doing it correctly. What did she know!? I think I literally made my water break.....that's how good I was. We arrived later that night into the wee hours of the next morning, and that baby "Sweet Pea" didn't come out until around 5:00 p.m. later that day. Yes, it was the longest, most memorable labor I had of my three children. I'm sure I screamed and moaned a few negative terms that day, probably deserved as Marty made his "funny" remarks or left the room without asking. Every mom in labor knows that the man must ask permission before doing anything during this turbulent time.
The labor was long and painful as I didn't get my epidural until I was at 8 1/2 cm. Long story, much too long to relive, but it was memorable. What I do recall most were my sisters being there, all wanting to see the actual birth of this baby coming out. "Hah, were they kidding???!!!" One who could barely show my belly, and they thought I would bare ALL of IT???? I politely asked them to exit the room, and shortly after, this beautiful wide-eyed small baby was born, and he looked exactly like my husband. He didn't cry; rather, he searched the room, and when I said, "hello" this precious baby's eyes met mine, and I fell in love with him. I loved him before, but this moment was ours, just the two of us. It didn't matter who was in the room, but his soul was forever linked to mine. How blessed am I!
Since then, I've learned the kind, cool spirit of this young man who beats to his own drum. He isn't swayed by peer pressure, and he has never cared what anyone thinks except his mom or dad. He makes those oh so right gestures without being told......he just seems to know. The moment he was born, his smile and big blue eyes took my breath away, and they forever will. He isn't one for sports, but he loves nostalgia and playing the drums. While most kids his age are talking on their cell phones or playing video games, my son searches out garage or estate sales, looking for the best bargain and truly enjoys chopping wood or listening to old time rock n roll. While some teens can be tormenting and harsh at times, it pulls at my heartstrings to see him be the recipient of their comments. For Eric, though, he doesn't give it a second thought. As he's told me before, I don't care mom, those girls are just goofy. Some day they will know the rare commodity of this young man, and they will wish he'd look their way. I know better, though, as he will find the heart the heart that matches him. If by chance he meets the wrong sort, one who doesn't appreciate the young man that he is, I will make sure she wish she had never met me. (smile) Does that sound like the mother bear protecting her cub? I don't think I'll have to worry about that, though, because Eric is a wise old soul. Some say mothers know best, but in the case of my son, Eric, he knows what's best. He will never be none other than my Sweet Pea.
"No love is greater than a mother for her child"
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