HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY . . . GOD BLESS US, EVERY ONE . . .

I don't have a photo on my mother on my computer, or I would have posted one here . . .

In another day or so it will be Mother's Day . . . at least here in the United States. I know that Mother's Day is hard for many women . . . hard for women who were never able to have children (and wanted them) . . . hard for women who had dysfunctional mothers who left scars, either emotionally or even physically . . . hard for women who look back over their lives and realize that they made some very poor choices that their children have had to or still may have to pay a big price for . . . hard for women who do not value motherhood for a variety of reasons . . . hard for women who feel like even though they TRY they do not measure up to some ideal mother they imagined they would be or wished they could be or wished they could have had . . .

Yeah . . . basically, I think mother's day is a hard day for a lot of women . . . perhaps ALL women. I have a friend who used to work in retail for decades, who said she would rather work BOTH Black Friday (day after Thanksgiving) AND the day after Christmas than work on Mother's Day . . . She said she absolutely HATED working that day, more than any other because the store was filled with men and adult children, looking desperately for a last minute gift that would be 'good' enough for a wife or mom . . . and women who were frustrated and disappointed and upset with what their families did (or failed to do) to 'honor' them on this special day . . .

I am not one of those who hates Mother's Day, personally . . . despite my own imperfections as a mother (and they are many), and the sometimes flawed and disappointing ways in which my husband and children 'thank' me for all I have done . . . I have learned to LOVE Mother's Day.

I used to feel sad and dissatisfied on Mother's Day until one day maybe twenty years ago I realized that part of what I was feeling was remembering that my own mother had been sad and disappointed on Mother's day. I decided that day that that sadness was NOT a legacy I wished to pass along to my own children. So I totally changed my attitude . . . Mother's day was no longer about what gifts I received or who made what for dinner . . . It was a day in which I simply celebrated how much I loved BEING a mother . . .

That was a real turning point for me . . . Even if I got flowers bought at a grocery store late Saturday night and a card my husband forgot to sign (and that was only on occasion . . . he also did some AMAZING, breathtakingly thoughtful gifts like the time he got our kids -- ages about four to fourteen -- out of bed at midnight Saturday night after I had gone to sleep and they spent FOUR HOURS in the middle of the night weeding , mulching , nourishing, and planting these big flower beds we had along the house in our front hard and then got up early the next morning to present me with dirty gloves and a mud-caked trowel . . . I was SO overwhelmed and touched that they thought of it and were willing to do that). . .

So even if I had to cook my own Mother's day dinner (we don't go to stores or restaurants on the Sabbath) . . . even if my kids chose that day to whine and fight and argue endlessly . . . It didn't matter, I didn't wait for THEM to make me happy . . . for THEM to make me feel like all the sacrifices and 24/7ishness of motherhood was worth it . . .

Nope, I wanted them to remember me HAPPY on Mother's day . . . So I was. And for ME, the way to do that was simply to make it a day on which I celebrated how very grateful I am for the opportunity I have had to bear and raise and nurture my five AMAZING, challenging, incredible children . . .

I have absolutely LOVED being a mom . . . and now a gramma . . . Oh, I don't delude myself that I have done any of it perfectly . . . and when I remember the times I was too tired to listen to a child who had something they wanted to share or turned away from a sticky hug because I was dressed up and ready to go out or lost it with a surly teenager when something deep inside of me was telling me they needed a hug . . . When I remember those times, my heart just aches . . . and I wish life had a replay button so I could rewind things and go back to just THAT moment and do better . . .

But I cannot . . . I cannot go back and erase those missteps and mistakes, no matter how badly I would like to . . . anymore than anyone else can. All I can do, is learn from those times and move on and try to do better . . . I have not been a perfect mother . . . even though I have honestly tried to do my prayerful, loving best . . . I am not at all sure that ultimately that my 'best' will be enough to give my children the stability, the skills, the grounding they will need as they navigate the rapids of their own lives . . . but I DO know that it was a priority for me and that I TRULY tried . . . and I pray that ultimately that will be enough . . .

Oh, how I hope so . . . I really REALLY hope so . . .

Also on this day, I remember MY mom. I cannot even find the words to express how beyond grateful I am for my own mother . . . She died sixteen years ago, and I still miss her every day. I hope with all my heart that I told her often enough how much I loved and respected and admired her . . . I hope she knows how often I remember things she said (or didn't say when I knew she was dying to) . . . how much I cherish that she believed in me, no matter what . . . and that even when my choices or actions disappointed her, that she KNEW that I was capable of better . . .

I am grateful for the memories I have of laughing with her, my sisters and I piled on her bed, laughing so hard we could hardly breathe, when I knew even then, that she REALLY wanted to go to sleep because she got up at 4 am to help my brother with his paper route . . . She was a very intelligent, well read woman, yet she could still laugh and be silly and enjoy the antics of seven active, creative, imaginative children . . .

I have no doubt that my own strong faith was nurtured by hers . . . and I treasure the memories I have of walking into her room late and night and finding her either kneeling at the side of her bed, deep in her personal communications with the Lord or sitting there, propped up with pillows with an open book of scriptures in her lap . . . I no longer remember all the WORDS with which she shared her deep love of the Lord and faith in His dealings except in snippets . . . but I will never forget the powerful witness -- throughout my whole life -- of how SHE found strength and comfort and hope by turning to Him on a daily and regular basis . . .

I miss you so much, Mom . . . and I wish with all my heart I could give you one more big bear hug and tell you how very much I love you . . . and that I will be ETERNALLY grateful for the opportunity to have been nurtured by a woman like you . . .

Happy Mothers Day . . . to all us imperfect, flawed, unfinished products who are daily trying to do our best to love and nurture and teach and encourage our children -- whatever their ages or circumstances -- to be their BEST selves . . .

SEW BUSY . . .

Life has been SOOOOOOOOOOO busy . . . MAN . . .

I keep thinking things will settle down, and they just don't . . .


I am just so SEW busy . . .



Life is good . . .

HOW DO I LOVE THEE . . .

I have been married a long time . . . a REALLY long time . . . Half of forever, as near as I can calculate . . . My marriage is a pretty good one, though by no means perfect. Our marriage is no more perfect than either of us are . . . and that is not very perfect at all . . . We step on each other's toes (metaphorically speaking) on a regular basis . . . We drive each other crazy . . . irritate one another to death . . . and yet we stay together . . . and somehow, despite all our struggles and shortcomings, our marriage works well on a whole lot of levels . . .

I know that doesn't sound very romantic . . . but we are not young, starry-eyed lovers who think we would die if forced to separate . . . We know and appreciate each other's strengths, AND we know and tolerate (for the most part) one another's flaws and quirks and weaknesses . . .

I guess I simply don't want to give the wrong impression here . . . Despite our struggles, we have a good marriage . . . It is more than simply comfortable . . . it is . . . peaceful . . .

That has not always been true, but it IS true, now . . .

And so, in honor of Valentine's Day . . . I want to mention some of the things that I have come to love about my husband and our relationship . . .

I love that our marriage IS so comfortable . . . We know one another VERY well -- metaphorical warts and all . . . and I know that my secrets are safe with you, as yours are with me . . .

I love that you try very hard to listen to me . . . even when you are upset . . . even when you vehemently disagree . . . even when you are POSITIVE I am wrong . . . You genuinely TRY to 'hear' my point of view . . .

I love that you make me laugh . . . sometimes with your wit . . . sometimes with your silliness . . . sometimes just because you like to see me smile . . .

I love that when I look into your eyes, I can SEE that YOU can still see the hottie you married SO long ago . . .

I love that when we walk into a room together you always put your hand at the small of my back . . . I cannot even begin to express how cherished and protected that makes me feel . . .

I love that I know how to light up your eyes . . . That we know one another so well, that I know what dinners will elicit a HUGE ear-to-ear grin . . . What naughty suggestions whispered in your ear will get your motor purring . . . That I know how to buoy you up when you are feeling overwhelmed and discouraged . . . I LOVE that I can still do those things for you . . .

I love that you believe in me . . . That you feel lucky and honored to be my husband and tell me so frequently . . . One night -- years ago, in the midst of a really difficult, painful stretch -- I will NEVER forget your turning to me and whispering, "I know that you are the very best thing that has ever happened to me" . . . To say something like that when things are going WELL would be a sweet compliment . . . To be able to say it when things were NOT going at ALL well, touched my heart beyond measure . . .

I love that when you see me for the first time . . . coming through the door after work . . . when you are at an airport (either arriving or picking me up), scanning the crowds for my face . . . or even in the halls at church when you come upon me unexpectedly, that you visibly light up . . . You are genuinely glad to see me . . . Every SINGLE time . . .

I love that once, years ago, when a significant earthquake awoke us both in the middle of the night after a particularly nasty fight -- one that really made me wonder if we would or even could stay together afterwards -- despite the recent ugliness, your first impulse was to reach out and grab my hand . . . That unconscious gesture gave me hope that we COULD, indeed, work through things . . . and we did . . .

I love that you are willing to tolerate the things I am interested in, even if they are not the same things you are interested in . . . We do not have a lot of shared hobbies, and never have . . . I love to walk, you love to plop down and watch TV . . . I like to socialize, you would rather interact with NOBODY other than family and extended family . . . We both love to read, but WHAT we read varies significantly . . . You love the latest and greatest gadgets and gizmos, and I am a technophobe . . . I love to try to eat healthy and you hate all vegetables (except raw carrots, corn on the cob and iceberg lettuce, sparingly) . . .

I love that despite the many compromises we have negotiated over the years, that we have not had to give up being ourselves to be a couple . . . even though I know you have really struggled with this one . . .

I love that you wholeheartedly adore our five children, their spouses and significant others and our grandchildren . . . I have no doubt that you would do anything in your power to be there for them in any way they needed . . .

I love that you love the Lord . . . You and I do not always see eye-to-eye on our shared faith . . . but even so, I have no doubt that you love the Lord . . . and I appreciate that, more than you know . . .

I love that our relationship -- even after all these years, and all the things we have faced together -- is multifaceted . . . That we can laugh together . . . cry together . . . pray together . . . be playful together . . . be passionate together . . . share ideas together . . . even disagree without being disagreeable . . .

I love that throughout our marriage, through all the ups and downs we have experienced, you have KEPT coming home to me . . . even when things weren't so good . . . even during the rough stretches . . . even when things seemed pretty bleak . . . THANK YOU for that . . .

I love that above all else, we are FRIENDS . . . and I know that you have my back, as I have yours . . .

Money is tight this year, and I am not sure what else I will be able to do for you for Valentine’s Day but I just wanted to make sure to wish you a Happy Valentine's Day, honey . . . because you ARE my Valentine . . .

CONFESSIONS OF A BLOG-HOPPER . . .

I haven't been on here in forever . . . Funny, huh? You would think that with my new status of 'unemployed' that I would have more time for reading and writing blogs . . . I DO love to write, after all . . . and yet I don't . . .

Maybe I just don't feel like I have anything blog worthy to say . . . Though, let's face it, that has never stopped me before . . . ;o)

Not sure what is going on . . . Perhaps it is simply that I am not very good at transitions in life . . . switching gears from one thing to another is difficult for me, and I don't really like to open up when life is a struggle . . .

However, I DO miss blogging . . . and I miss reading blogs . . . I have decided that I am a dedicated blog hopper . . . LOL . . . I read the blogs of friends and family and extended family members . . . and I also enjoy reading the blogs of total strangers. At least sometimes I do . . .

I really do find people absolutely fascinating . . . and since I am the world's WORST photographer (the ones I take are ALWAYS blurry . . . ALWAYS) I might enjoy looking at other people's photographs, but the blogs I love to read most of all are ones where people open up and share . . . so I feel like I get a feel for the writer . . . and even if I never stop back by (blog hopping is by nature pretty random . . . if there is a way to 'note' certain blogs and stop back by, I am unaware of what it is or how to do it) I feel like I have seen a glimpse of the person behind the blog . . . and that my life is richer for that brief connection.

Oh, not ALL blogs are interesting . . . (Sorry, but that IS true) . . . The blogs that are cut and pasted email forwards don't really interest me . . . neither do the ones that are simply quotes . . . I can read scriptures and great writers on my own. I don't mind a quote (of any kind) when the person goes on to explain why that is significant to them . . . what life experiences drove that particular insight or point home . . . etc . . . but when all someone does is copy and paste someone else's words . . . That doesn't particularly interest me . . . I mean, no offense . . . that may be exactly what someone else LOVES to read and more power to them . . .

As for me . . . I like getting to know people . . . finding out how they feel about life and life's experiences . . . what they are learning in their journeys . . . the brief chance to view life through the window of THEIR eyes . . . I LOVE that . . .

Today I was blog hopping . . . I am not sure whose blog I ended up on, or if I will ever find it again . . . but a woman shared (on her anniversary) how her husband had proposed to her . . . He planned out their whole day together, starting by coming over early that morning to make breakfast for her to surprise her . . . then they went to church, and shared the special peace one can find at there together . . . Then they went to an art museum (she apparently LOVES art museums) . . . and then they shared a picnic feast that he had prepared in the park . . . and somewhere along the line he popped the question, asking her to be his wife . . .

I do not know these people . . . I have NO idea who they are. I could pass them several times a day (or live next door to them) and never know it . . . all I have is this one visit to her blog where she shared this special memory, from somewhere down the road. And yet, that one little peek into her heart, truly warmed mine. I don't even know how old she is . . . I just know that she loves her husband, and that together they have built a beautiful family of three, soon-to-be-four, precious children. The love that this family -- random strangers whose path I may never cross again -- shares was SO sweet and SO strong . . . I could feel it through every sentence she wrote about her sweetheart and his creative thoughtfulness . . .

Reading what she wrote today left me smiling . . . and made me want to go hug MY sweetheart . . . What a lucky woman *I* am to have a husband who STILL treats me tenderly and lovingly and still loves to have me by his side . . . through ALL of life's ups and downs . . .

Thank you, perfect stranger, for sharing this little bit of sweetness and warmth today . . . It went straight from YOUR heart to MINE . . . and made my world a little brighter for the sharing . . .

AND SO IT BEGINS . . .

Well . . . I am done dragging my feet (actually, I WAS busy through the holidays and then undecorating my home and getting everything clean and put back together, so I wasn't JUST dragging my feet, but I kind of was . . . a little) . . .

LOL . . . uh oh . . .

I know THAT made no sense, which bodes ill for a writer, you know?

BUT . . . I finally printed out a copy of the story I wrote last November for NaNoWriMo and have begun reading it from beginning to end (for the very first time) . . . making little notes (like 'this need more development' or 'show, don't tell') and some minor rewording and revising . . .

I am about two thirds of the way through it, and honestly (is this terrible to say?) I am actually kind of pleasantly surprised . . . I mean, I WROTE it, so of course there are no surprises in the storyline . . . but I AM kind of pleased, overall, with my efforts. I mean, there are parts that DO flow well, and it DOES hang together as a story . . .

It isn't an IMPORTANT story . . . no vampires or aliens or shape shifters or fairies . . . It isn't about anything really BIG . . . It is just a quiet little slice-of-life story . . . about growing up . . . and changing family dynamics . . . the ebb and flow of friendships . . . coming to terms with changes . . . It isn't very EXCITING . . . but I wasn't trying to write an exciting story . . . I wanted it to be quiet and simple and to feel . . . hmmmm . . . authentic, I guess . . .

And I kind of, sort of thinks parts of it DO . . .



I think that just maybe it is worth continuing to work on and revise and polish . . .



So . . .




I will! =o)

INTIMIDATING TIMES . . .

Today I had an interview . . . I know people who have been out of work for months without a single interview, so I am grateful that I got called to come in for one. The job is still only part time, but that works for me . . . It would be steady hours and the pay is considerably better than what I have been getting, and it is year round, so I would really like to get it. It isn't tutoring, which is what I love best . . . but it IS working with people, which is the part I love best about tutoring, so this job would work for me, I think . . .

I thought I was all calm and collected about this interview. In fact, a few days ago I was marveling at just how NOT stressed I was about it . . . LOL . . . I should have known it wouldn't last. Late Sunday night it suddenly hit me and I panicked. Then all that night I woke up every twenty minutes or so in a cold sweat in the midst of a dream about some disaster that struck on my way to or during the interview itself . . . I lost track of time and showed up an hour late (SOOOOOOOooooOOOO not me) . . . I got mugged in the elevator on the way to the interview (there is no elevator in the one story building where the interview would be held) . . . I got sick to my stomach and threw up all over the people interviewing me . . . I looked down mid-interview and discovered I had forgotten to put pants on . . . the interviewers all turned into giant snakes and were hissing and snarling at me (do snakes even snarl?!?) . . . etc, etc, etc.

Yeah . . . I have a VERY active imagination, so the dreams were awful. I would wake up, with my heart pounding, thinking "oh NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO . . . how could I have let this happen?!?!?" before (eventually) I would realize it was JUST a dream and think "WHEW" . . .

I knew it would be a panel interview, which are always more stressful and intimidating. Luckily for a few years I worked at the college in a capacity where I had to undergo a panel interview every single semester. I HATED it . . . but I thought it probably made THIS panel interview slightly less terrifying because I at least had some recent experience with them (and surviving).

So . . . today I went over to where my interview was, and waited in the car until about a half an hour before my scheduled time, then went in and told the receptionist I was there. At THAT point I realized I probably should have printed out a hard copy of my resume and brought it (uh oh . . . too late to do anything about it, but at least I DID remember to wear pants!)

Anyhow, I just prayed really hard -- not that I would get the job, because I am certainly not the only one trying to get a job, and I may not need it the most -- but simply that I would be able to be calm and confident, and do my best in the interview . . . and that those interviewing me would be able to get an accurate assessment of my abilities and talents and suitability for the job from my demeanor and answers. That is all. I just wanted it to be a good experience and to feel comfortable with how it went.

And I was. I really was. I mean, of course it is stressful to go to a job interview, especially one that involves multiple people asking you questions, and EVERYBODY taking notes on your answers. But none of the questions caught me off guard . . . and none flustered me. I felt like I was calm and collected, and that I was able to articulate my responses fairly well . . .

Of course, all the way home, I thought of MILLIONS of things I could have or should have said . . . things I should have elaborated on . . . things I forgot to say . . . etc . . . but I DID survive it, and it WAS a pretty good experience . . . so I am feeling really grateful . . .

Of course, I REALLY wish I could have been privy to the discussion they had after I left the room . . . but I should hear in a day or two or three if I made the list of those called back to a second interview. I guess then I will have a better idea of how things went , huh?

If nothing else comes of this (or even if I do get the second interview and still do not get the job) this whole process is good experience . . . The more interviews I do, the less intimidating they will be (theoretically) and the better I will get at thinking on my feet and responding to questions that are leveled at me . . . So I really AM grateful that I got called in for the interview . . .

LOL . . . soooooooooooooooooooooo . . . the big job hunt has officially begun . . .

So far, so good! ;o)

MY CHRISTMAS MIRACLE

I had an incredible experience with my MIL yesterday that I really want to write down before the memory of it fades.

A few days ago, I woke up in the midst of a dream about my mother-in-law . . . It wasn't a sad dream or a creepy dream or one where she was at the foot of my bed waving goodbye because she had died or whatever . . . and I woke up surprised because I hadn't been thinking about her particularly in the last few days or weeks, and there was no particular significance to the timing of the dream (no special days or occasions that might remind me of her or make me think of her subconsciously) . . . When my husband woke up I mentioned it to him and he said 'that is SO weird . . . I had a dream about her last night too' . . . His was very different from mine, but his, too, was neither ominous nor scary at all . . . I made a mental note to go visit her again soon, and then promptly forgot about it . . . like I said, this has been a crazy busy time . . .

Then yesterday as I was driving home from work, mentally reviewing all I had to accomplish between that moment and the book club meeting that night (I had to go to the bank, go to the grocery store, make a side dish to share, holiday goodies to share, and a few other things) and wondering how I could possibly get it all done in the little bit of time I had (2 hours) the thought popped into my head "I should stop and visit [my MIL]" . . . The timing seemed like the WORST ever, but because of the dreams, I drove to where she is, and went in to see her, not expecting much because the last two or three times I have been to see her, she has been asleep, and I ended up just sitting (or standing or squatting) by her, holding her hand in silence because it seemed mean to wake her. I imagine at this point in time her dreams are happier and more peaceful that the reality of her life, if she is at all aware of it . . .

To my surprise when I went in her room she absolutely LIT up. She was in bed, but awake, and she was DELIGHTED to see me. She has advanced Alzheimers and can no longer carry on a conversation . . . I mean, when she talks it is gibberish, though you can occasionally recognize a word or two, maybe even a partial phrase, but that is it.

This time was no different . . . I mean, almost nothing she said made any kind of recognizable sense, but she was CHATTY . . . She sat up in bed, and just chatted on and on and on . . . occasionally stopping to wait for a response or to chuckle. Like I said, it wasn't really a conversation . . . but I think to HER it was . . . so I told her about our holiday plans, and she told me about hers (lol . . . maybe) . . . We chatted like that for an hour and a half . . . and even though I didn't understand more than a word or two here and there that she said, it was HER I was talking to . . . the REAL her . . . It has been YEARS since I have felt like it was HER there when we visited . . . It was always just sort of a familiar-ish looking, vacant-eyed, slack-jawed stranger . . . but yesterday for that hour and a half, it was truly HER . . . I KNOW it was . . . The nursing staff walking by kept doing double takes, because it was so obvious that we were having a 'conversation' and she hasn't been capable of that for a very long time . . .

I stayed as long as I could . . . and I hated having to leave, but I finally had to . . . I gave her a hug and kissed her on her forehead and told her I would be back soon . . . and I walked out to my car and burst into tears . . . It was SUCH a sweet, incredible experience . . . I wished so much that my husband had been there to see his mom with me to share in it . . .

I think THAT will be my Christmas miracle this year . . . It was SUCH a sweet, beautiful hour and a half . . . I will cherish the memory of that forever . . .

Merry almost Christmas, everyone!