Who is with me?

Who is with me? I am going to start this on January 1, 2013.
I am struggling with loss and feeling like I am in need of change. But! I am a little scared of change right now so I think that taking these simple steps will provide some insight as to what I am looking for in me and around me and for me.
If you want to join me yet aren't ready to go public, privately send me your daily writings. I would be thrilled to keep them sweetly sacred.

Merry Christmas 2012

As I mentioned....first Christmas without my kids and I am staying outside Boston. Don't feel bad for me. I am going to list off my blessing that have kept me warm and happy this morning.

First. How did I get to the airport? Silver. I got a ride from my ex's girlfriend. I am blessed that I have been given the opportunity to forgive not only Ed, but honestly....me.

Just as important. My children. What more can I say? They are my greatest accomplishment and my greatest blessing.

Next. Gooseberry Gals. This is what I found under the tree in Massachusetts .

This is what it contained.

I won't be eating real food for days.

More. My Gooseberry from Boston. She went to her library and picked out a variety of books for me. She also left me with a stack of BBC period dramas. I am curled on her couch with a down blanket deciding where to start.

Really? There is more! Friends. You know who you are. You feed me with laughter, texts, fb messages, phone calls, music, hugs, chocolate, and more laughter. (Gosh, that is quite a few of you.)

I am blessed to know that I have a Heavenly Father that loves me. Actually he adores me. He knows my needs. He provides for me. Coming here to Massachusetts has provided me with A Silent Night. A time to step back. To stop moving. Time to reflect, relax, rejuvenate. I am indeed grateful to my Heavenly Father for my many blessings.

I wish each of you a very Merry Christmas.

Where did that come from?

An update since Saturday.
Overall I have good feelings about my dad passing away. I was ready. He was 91 and even though longevity was in his genes I did not expect him to hold out too much longer. What has surprised me is where and when the tears come. On Saturday there were random tears while sitting at a traffic light. Sunday, only one little moment when a sweet woman from church dropped by with her little guy, who I adore, bearing gifts of Trader Joe's Candy Cane Joe Joe's and a hug for comfort.
Those tears make sense.

Here are the two moments that have blind sided me.

A little background first.
This is my first Christmas and New Year without Peanut, Bean, and Iam. I knew I couldn't stay in Ann Arbor. So in October I started checking out flights and places to go. Where would I go? What wasn't too expensive? Where would I feel safe and happy? About a week later one of my Gooseberry Gals offered me her house outside Boston. In exchange I had to take care of Bianca the 16+ year old cat. Deal! Blessing! Prayers answered! Let's start with I Love Boston. Second this sweet home is on a lake and is filled with the warmest spirit.

Now onto blindsided.
Monday I boarded my flight bound for Boston via Philadelphia. All was good.
As we were preparing to taxi out from Philadelphia I look over and there is a military funeral procession. Hurst, casket, young men and women in military dress standing at attention, four police escort vehicles with lights flashing. Tears. I could not believe how fast they came. Pouring. My heart ached for this family bringing home their loved one on Christmas Eve.
Then, last night I went to Mass at Trinity Church in Boston with my Gooseberry Gal and her family. Her youngest sings in the choir there. An old, Old church in Boston. A church that I wonder if my grandmother might have visited while a young newlywed living in Boston. A beautiful service. An amazing organ that made my heart swell. We sat in the balcony and watched the members partake of communion. I look down and see a young soldier in his Army combat uniform walk forward with his family to accept the sacrament. In my head I hear "uh-oh, uh-oh" yep...here they come. Tears. What a sweet moment for me to witness.

So are we starting to see a pattern? I am going to have to find a way to provide some service back to our men and women who choose to protect our country. Suggestions? Something fun. Something personal. Something to do year round. Maybe monthly? And?! How do I serve without breaking into tears? Maybe that is my reason to serve. To feel and feel deeply.

Where is the parent manual?

My life has been filled with numbers recently. 91, 24, 2.5, 9, 15-20. Maybe I should play the lottery?
I write this as I sit with my dad during his last 24 hours in hospice care. That little man above is my dad. Born Richard Warren Weitzel. Dad turned 91 in July. He is diabetic, suffers from COPD and was diagnosed with MDS - myelodysplastic syndrome on Thanksgiving. Our arrival to hospice care was bumpy, but here we are 4 short weeks later. Dad is comfortable and passing the way he wanted to with no life saving measures. 

On Tuesday I found myself feeding my dad a portion of his dinner. I had never fed my father. He was always a strong, capable, stubborn, determined man. Here I was scooping a bit of dessert between his lips. Caring for his basic needs. Through the last 18 hours we have been counting his breaths. Watching his chest rise and fall. Watching. Waiting. I remember doing the same thing those first few days when I brought Peanut, Bean, and Iam home. Just watching them breathe. Both will bring relief but in the opposite direction. 

I recall when my mom was in her last months I kept thinking "Where is the manual? Why does no one really prepare us to be adult children caring for our aging and dying parents?" The real manual. The one that tells you...you had better make sure you are able to have an adult conversation with your sibling about some difficult topics. You had better be prepared to run on 2.5 hours of sleep and function in public and not spit back at someone who wishes you a "nice day" as you prepare to head back to hospice and watch your parent pass away. You had better know that the tears might just start flowing down your face as you stare at the milk cartons in the dairy aisle in Target. You had better be able to recognize 8 different phone numbers on your cell phone and what their importance is...hospice? social worker? other hospice? other social worker? floor nurse? You had better make sure you have a support group on hand. Is there someone who will bring you mac and cheese that is so good you would just want to just roll around in the pan? Do you have friends you can text or call at 3:00am when you are sitting in the dark?

My relationship with my dad has been strained over the years. I have worked hard to forgive him and move on. As I sit with my dad I can see my Grandma in his face. He has her eyes. It is a sweet memory. I can recall good memories. Swimming at JC's pool. Christmas Eve services at Central College. Fourth of July celebrations. What would I say is the greatest gift my father has given me? My patriotism. Dad served in WWII. He was in Paris on V Day. He loved to tell that story. He would get choked up at any rendition of The Battle Hymn of the Republic. He wears a large gold eagle around his neck. We joke and tease about his "bling" but I know he loves this country. He leaves me with a deep sense of pride for our country. He taught me to honor and respect the men and women who serve and defend our country.

I am thankful for supportive friends and co workers who listen, hug, and laugh. Friends from long ago who happen to post the right song at the right time. New friends who provide a little messaging humor while you sit and wait. A group of women who are powerful prayer warriors. A sister who sits with me and giggles at silly memories. Finally, I am thankful for a dad who found hospice services for his own mother 25 years ago and continued to believe and support the philosophy.

Catch a wave...

During a conversation this week I mentioned that I felt like my life was functioning in controlled chaos. The response was " don't you think more like surfing the chaos?"

The more I have thought about it I think this wise friend was correct. I am surfing the chaos in my life.

I grew up spending summers at Yaupon Beach, NC or on The Cape. I loved the beach. I had a healthy respect for the ocean. I could play for hours in the ocean, riding a raft, floating and watching the people. I loved the taste of the salt as it dried on my skin. I hated that my freckles were so bold, but I couldn't leave the smell, feel and sound of the ocean. I had older cousins. I would watch them head out with my sister. They would swim out further and body surf in. I wanted to join them. But I can easily recall the times I went too far or the water was too rough and I got pulled under and took in a mouth and nose full of salt water. Nose, throat and eyes burning. I would take some time and sit on the beach and dig a hole or watch my uncle fish. Then I would head back in. Try again. Try to work against and control the powerful force of the ocean.

I'm back in the water now. Surfing between a dad who is dying, trials at work, teenage boys, the holidays, and my personal need to improve myself and remain strong. All powerful forces of which I have little control. This evening I was pulled back under. I came up to take a gulp of air and rinse the salty tears from my eyes. Tomorrow I will head back in ready to try again. Attempting to smoothly move from one wave to another and remain upright. 

Hang Ten!

The beautiful young woman above is Ed's second cousin Dax McGill. Dax is a sponsored surfer from the North Shore of Oahu.

We walk with a limp.

As this week unfolds I will begin a new battle. 
My dad is heading into hospice care. He is 91 and had a long life. There are background stories that I won't cover here, yet, maybe, someday. 
Watching a parent move into hospice and balancing your everyday life is a crazy, blurry, freak show. Yet it is also when the veil becomes so thin. We can see and feel comfort from beyond.


What follows is a portion of a sermon given by Rob Bell.
It was sent to me this weekend from a friend in response to my tear stained request for support. Really? did I have to have so many things (yes, there are other battles brewing) come at once...again! 
What you will read hit the spot for me. 

“

for many people, the simple dualisms of right and wrong and good and bad are the sole prism, the lens, through which they look for God in the world. so if things go well, then ‘God is good’ is how the thinking goes, and if things don’t go well, all kinds of questions arise about God and hope and faith and was it all just a grand illusion in the first place?
the life we’ve found together, however, is far more subtle, nuanced, and complex than those simple dualisms, and i’ve seen you discover this deep well of insight as it shapes you in profound ways.

i’ve seen you get cancer and struggle with infertility and attend funerals of people you love and get let go from your jobs and lose tens of thousands of dollars and get sued and find out your kid is using drugs— and at the same time i’ve watched you find God in the mess. in the tension. in the chaos. i’ve seen you find peace and joy and calm and rest in situations in which everybody else is convinced that peace and joy, much like Elvis, have left the building.

there’s an ancient midrash about jacob who wrestles the angel. they say that he walks with a limp afterwards, but at least he’s experienced God.

i’ve watched many of you walk with a limp.
it’s a deeper wisdom you have attained,
a higher level of consciousness,
a more refined and ultimately more enduring way of seeing that you have acquired.

it’s a spirituality that doesn’t need quick and easy answers, it shuns the trite and cliché,
it understands Christ is here somewhere in this mess, and no matter how dark or foreboding it gets, we will at some point see him,
friday will give way to sunday
and while there are blood and tears and heartache
and at times we’re barely holding on by our chiny chin chin
when we do stumble into the daylight, when we do find a little respite, a sliver of shalom,
when we eventually do meet the resurrected Christ
it will be real and it will matter and it will be true and
it will satisfy.

”
rob bell sermon

Gratitude

“Piglet noticed that even though he had a Very Small Heart, 

it could hold a rather large amount of Gratitude.” 

― A. A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh

Over the last year I have tried to express my gratitude for people and things on a regular basis. I have felt that I need to be open and honest with those around me  so they know how I feel abut them and the impact they have on my life...daily.

Here it goes.

I am grateful for Peanut, Bean, and Iam. They keep me moving forward and trying harder everyday. They forgive me when I get out of control emotionally. They let me hug them and squeeze them. I love you.

I am thankful that Ed and I have found a way to work through parenting and communication. Not to say that every encounter is roses but we try harder for the kids. We also know when to step away and come back later. 

I am thankful for Ed's girlfriend...we will call her Silver. I have the silver hair but she is always adorned with beautiful silver bangles and earrings. Also the brightness of her heart and good will shines out through her eyes and smile. She has become a dear friend. Amazing what happens when you put two 40+ year old divorcees together....they tend to bond.

I am grateful for Wicked who has taught me how to trust again. Who has helped me see where I still need to grow, build, and strengthen myself.

I am thankful for a country and church where I can express my beliefs.

I am grateful for Bama who provides a sounding board and tolerates my college football addiction.

I am thankful for my sister who takes the lead and bears the brunt of life with aging parents.

My Gooseberry Gals. They pull me along when I want to stay back curled up in a ball. They cheer me along. They share their pain, struggles and trials. My heart leaps when I think of this bond. I know I would not have a Gooseberry gang if I had not been going through a divorce and one woman had the courage to ask "what can we do for you?" and then go all out to meet my suggestion.

My heart is little but is overflowing with gratitude. I am a blessed daughter of my Heavenly Father.

It doesn't interest me.

“It doesn't interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.
It doesn't interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive. 
It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life's betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain!I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it or fade it, or fix it. 
I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own, if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, to be realistic, to remember the limitations of being human. 
It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself; if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul; if you can be faithlessand therefore trustworthy. 
I want to know if you can see beauty even when it's not pretty, every day,and if you can source your own life from its presence. 
I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand on the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, “Yes!”
It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up, after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done to feed the children. 
It doesn't interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back. 
It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you, from the inside, when all else falls away. 
I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.” 
― Oriah Mountain Dreamer

I want to know.

We create first impressions based on the smallest of things. A smile. A firm handshake. A friendly demeanor. But, humans are layered. We lift veil after veil, and it’s only when we slip past a smile and meander through our cortex that we find something that we can truly call human. We’re built as natural defense mechanisms. We hide our vulnerabilities and show strength with an upturned chin and a straight gait, but which of us mean it? Which of us can keep our shoulders like level weights without showing the vulnerability in our curves? We create angles in our form. We’ll choose empowerment in the form of redwoods instead of bending ourselves like boughs. We’re strong enough to hold an ocean instead of admitting that we’re fragile enough to be swallowed by the sea, and in that, I find humanity’s greatest flaw. We pretend to be someone we’re not, although fragility is what makes us all beautiful. We don suits and straighten our ties and walk around holding our breaths, knowing that once we step into the safety of our homes, we’d take off our skin and place them side-by-side next to our loafers. We are who we are when we believe that no one’s looking, and in turn we’re losing ourselves to what society is trying to mold us into. We’re told to conform to a monochrome world instead of painting our skies the colors we feel in. First impressions bother me because they’re nothing but well-dressed lies. I’m not interested in who you are at first glance. I’m not interested in the person that you claim to be. I only want to know what color your seas are. I only want to know what you bleed. 

(Source: commovente)

7 deadly sins

I borrowed this from Whispering Sweet Nothings. 

pride

seven great things in your life.

1. Peanut.

2. Bean.

3. Iam.

4. The gospel.

5. A work team that shares the same vision.

6. The Gooseberry Gals.

7.  My internal motivation.

envy

seven things you lack and covet.

1. Lake Champlain Dark Chocolate Sea Salt Caramels.

2. Time.

3. Perfect skin.

4. Two sizes smaller.

5. A man who lives nearby.

6. Patience.
7. Dependable car.

wrath

seven things that make you angry

1. Adults who behave like children.

2. People who abuse children verbally, emotionally or physically.

3. The economy.

4. Greedy individuals.

5.  Ignorance.

6. Bad drivers.

7.  Politics.

sloth

seven things that you neglect to do.

1. Dust.

2. Reign in my Michigan emotions.

3. Let go of a past offense.

4. Exercise regularly.

5.  Check Powerschool regularly.

6. Not overanalyze every situation.

7.Rake the leaves.

greed

seven worldly material desires.

1. A reliable car.

2.  Tickets to see Mumford and Sons.

3.  Season tickets to University of Michigan football.

4.  College tuition paid for Peanut

5. College tuition paid for Bean.

6. College tuition paid for Iam.

7. Unlimited airline miles.

gluttony

seven guilty pleasures.

1. Lake Champlain Dark Chocolate Sea Salt Caramels

2. Mumford and Son.s

3. Green Mint Chip Ice cream. 

4. Phone calls with Wicked.

5. The Bachelor(ette).

6. Chai.

7. Facebook.

lust

seven things you love about love

1. The butterflies.

2. Sweet texts.

3. Holding hands.

   4. Laughing at/with each other.

5. The touch on the small of your back.

6. Back scratches.

7. Sharing dessert.

“Invisible threads are the strongest ties.” ― Friedrich Nietzsche

This image of threads combining to create ropes has not left my head for the last couple of weeks. 

I started researching ropes. Types, styles, uses. When you go to New England Ropes they sell "Marine Ropes • Arborist Ropes • Climbing Ropes •Safety Ropes • Industrial Ropes • Utility Ropes • Equine Ropes • Entertainment Ropes • Government" 

Who knew? Entertainment? Government? I'll get back to you on those.

I am fully aware there are times when we pull others up, out, over, or through their trial. Big or small. We don't always use lifesaving ropes either. I can think of a few times when Equine Ropes were called for to get someone out of some serious s&#t. Utility Ropes to help with the basic service work of cooking or cleaning for the new mom. Marine Ropes when we send someone off on a safe voyage. 

It seems this is a period of time where I am relying on my Life Safety Ropes. Nothing huge or tragic. I fear I am the one being harnessed and pulled to safety. Luckily I have chosen specific people to work the ropes. One person to check the rope for any fraying. A few to find the right spot to pull me up with the least amount of risk of injury to them or me. Someone to secure my harness. Always someone to cheer me along and keep my eyes focused on forward movement. Even though I have people here to help I cannot expect to be dead weight. I must help by reaching for the next rock. Find a ledge for my feet. Pull myself up. I will have a few scratches, bumps, and bruises. But I am wise and made sure I chose someone at the top to prepare a nourishing meal, chocolate and conversation to follow as we all rest and recover for the next trial. 

Yours or mine.

The view from here.

This week I have been thinking about relationships. The process of building a friendship. The catalyst for the initial connection.

For the last two weeks I have been taking the bus to work. I love it! I enjoy the early morning walk. Cool air. Quiet. I can think and get a little exercise in before my day starts. I have been pretty consistent and catching the same bus on the way too and from work. So I get the same driver. As I was heading into work one morning this last week I was a little late so I had a different driver. Nice jolly man. What I noticed was as select people debused (is that a George Carlin phrase?) he would look in his mirror and give a big "see ya" wave. I want that! I want to be one of the people to be singled out an acknowledged by the bus driver. I am drawn to this idea of creating small relationships from everyday events. To build a connection with a person you would not typically find in your circle of friends. Not to say they would become a friend, but an acquaintance. To see them in another setting and say "hi!" then the person you are with asking "how do you know them?" and responding "oh, he's my bus driver." I don't think I take enough time to make these simple connections. Riding the bus and walking through town has opened up the opportunity and I have decided to take on the challenge.

It doesn't stop there.
On Friday as I was walking the six blocks to work from the bus stop I came to an intersection and looked to my right...a crane! I turn to look to the left....because you know you should look both ways before you cross the street, especially in Ann Arbor...and what do I see? Another crane! I have a very dear friend who loves cranes. I have known her for 10 years and did not discover this until maybe two years ago. When I see a crane I take a picture and send it to her. On Friday I sent her two pictures from the same intersection. What I didn't know was she was having a day that needed support. As we talked that evening she shared her thoughts on the day and a conversation she had with some friends regarding death. She didn't want to be buried in a grave. She didn't want someone to go to one place to remember her. Then when she saw the  pictures I sent she realized that I would always remember her when I see a crane. Of course there are a few other things that will help me think of her, but cranes are a big one. I won't go to one place. I could think of her all over the country. What a blessing.

The more I thought the more I found my friends were all around me;
-when I see a school bus I still think of my friend Karen who passed away unexpectedly.
-Bama. Harold.
-muffins, white elephants, House of Blues. GH ladies.
-lima beans or gallon buckets of ice cream. Mind and Pris.
-Bo Sox and eggs benedict. Wicked.
-figs. Gooseberry Gals.

So it seems that wherever I look I should be touched by a friend.
That being said....the view is spectacular!

What do you miss the most?

This question was posed to me this last week. I was chatting with a friend that I had not spent time with in nearly a year. We caught up on kids, work, family, and life after a divorce. 

She asked "What do you miss the most?" 

At times I miss having a partner to parent with. Having someone to take the lead, just once. 

A little more financial security? Definitely.

Conversation? Yes but no. I have found deeper conversations with my Gooseberry Gals. Wicked and I talk often and there is not a topic that is off limits.

Sex. Well, yes but that is another conversation and only had with very few people. Very few.

I am a sensory oriented person. Touch more than any other sense. I miss physical touch. Hand holding. A hand on the small of my back. Leaning into a chest while watching a movie. Giving back scratches. Rubbing a forearm. Deep hugs.

I have been known to say I think I will eventually be blind because I rely on my touch. 

So there is my answer. I miss touch. 

I share this not expecting those of you in close proximity to give me hugs or hold my hand. Actually I am fairly picky about who does touch me.

When I do need a deep hug I have a few people I purposefully seek out. 

Yet when I do get a hug I feel it fully. No matter who you are I want to feel the emotion that comes with that hug. Just don't give me the pity hug or air back pat hug. They are too similar to a fish handshake.

The purpose of this blog has been to share and document the journey. The journey of divorce. How one woman has been able to move past pain and rediscover herself.

Break the Grip of the Rip!

This evening I was presented with an image of a moment from the recent past. A moment that at the time caused such anger, disrespect, fear and resentment in me. I was shocked at how all of my emotions that were associated with this event came back so easily tonight. They swept over me.
No, more like a rip current.
I had a moment of panic.
I could not go under again.

I took a deep breath. I decided to not fight the feelings this time. I rode them out. I deeply felt the anger that possibly I had let float beneath the surface for too long. I let my curses fly at the fear I had let control me too long. Fear that had held me back. Fear that let me think I wasn't worth it.
I mourned the loss of a relationship. A friendship.
Then, when I looked around I was out of the current.

I am still in deep water, yet I see what I have available to save me.
I can swim. I AM all that!(and a bag of Tyrrell's Sweet Chili & Red Pepper Chips) I will accomplish great, amazing, and stupendous things. I am so much more than what I was held down to believe I was.
I have lifesavers nearby.
Gooseberry Gals.
Wicked.
My three sweet kiddo's
All who will listen, pray, cheer, quiz, push, pull, and prod me along.

As I float out here and look back to shore...to that moment in time...I can see it was a catalyst for change. It truly was one of the most heartbreaking experiences in my life. I thought there was the only one way to save myself and I fought. I fought against what was going to save me.
Yet without this change I would not have found my strength.
I would not have taken this journey.
To honestly use my talents for growth.
To be a part of something bigger in my life.




http://oceanservice.noaa.gov/facts/rip-current-sign.jpg

It speaks to my soul.

I have had the pleasure of seeing Les Miserables twice. 

The first time was in Detroit with Ed. I was so moved by the stage, the music, the overall performance. As we went into the intermission Ed said "Nan?" I was leaning forward in my seat and mesmerized. I had been holding my breathe for who knows how long.

The second time was in D.C. with a dear friend. This time I wept. Really. Wept through nearly the entire performance. This time I knew the story Mr. Hugo was telling. The turning stage didn't thrill me (as much.) This time I saw men and women sharing their talents. 

Even to this day when I hear this piece I weep. 

All I can say is that it touched me to my soul.

One More Day!

Well, you look happy.

"The best moments of our lives are not the passive, receptive, relaxing times, but the ones when we’re being stretched to accomplish something difficult and worthwhile."-Noor Mohammed

I had an opportunity to see two friends this weekend.
Last night I sat with a friend that I had not seen in nearly 12 years. They mentioned they were sorry to hear of my split from Ed. Then they said "Well, you look happy." Think of all the ways you can hear that sentence. 

Then today I had a short visit with a very dear friend. A woman I love and admire. Our conversation was brief. But we covered a lot in those 10 minutes. We have known each other for over 20 years. We are not best friends, but I believe we each hold our friendship in a very dear place in our hearts. Our connection is very... spiritual you could say. The last several years have been very hard on both of us and we have shared our struggles as daughters, women, and partners in relationships. 
Today she said "I think I can actually say I am happy." We discussed what happy looked like and felt  like. Happiness was not everything being in order, the bills paid, and the perfect house with the white picket fence. Happiness was seeing ourselves as a whole woman. Happiness was looking at ourselves after the battle and saying "Damn! You look good!" It is honoring the process. 
It's clear that life will not be perfect from here on out, but I can take these events head on. Some I might have to take alone and some I will have the people I love with me. Either way I will come out with memories that can empower me to be a better woman.
My divorce is not one of my best moments in life. But I have been stretched and I know who I am now. I am a whole woman. I am happy.

Not With Haste

http://mumfordandsonsblog.tumblr.com/post/32240067122

At a loss...

Over the last few days I have had a couple of friends share a gift with me. I am sorry to say they did not share something yummy to eat or some sweet hand me down shoes.
No.
They shared pain. Emotional pain. Fear, concern, and loss.

The pain we feel as a mother. A mother to our children. A mother to the children we help raise. You know the ones? The child who is at your house as much as they are at their own. The child who feels like the twin.

At the time I was grateful that they were willing to tell me what has caused them to hurt. I remain grateful. How can I be grateful for the fact that these two women shared deep, heart breaking pain for their children?

Tonight I listened to the new Babel release from Mumford and Sons and I found why their music touches me. It can be so soothing and sweet and then I can bang, jump and yell. The flow of my emotions. Up and down.
I let it all sink into my bones...I wept. I wept for these grown children and this crazy world. I wept for these women who must ache to hold their child. How do we parent from hundreds of miles away?
I can only hope that as I shed my tears I was able to release a small portion of their tidal wave of emotions.

I am at a loss as to where to go now and what to do with my feelings.
Sharing them here allows me to process. My hope would be that as our friends share their challenges, trials, triumphs, and celebrations we can fully accept these gifts. Embrace them and genuinely thank them for the opportunity to share this experience with them.

Vertically challenged.

" Don't place your mistakes on your head, their weight may crush you. Instead, place them under your feet and use them as a platform to view your horizons."

If we have not met you don't know that I am...well...short. I'm not oompa loompa short, but I have been known to ask strangers to get things off the top shelf in the grocery store. Basically I see eye to eye with many twelve year olds. I have never let my height deter me. I'll climb on anything to get a better view. Kitchen tongs are my best friend.

When I saw this quote I realized that this is exactly what I have done over the last couple of years. Both sides. At first I carried and dragged my troubles. They caused pain in my whole body, mind, and soul. My hands ached from holding on so tight. Bruised shoulders from hoisting my troubles up higher. Why do we take such good care of our pain?

In the last year and a half I have taken my troubles... My pain. My anger. Frustration. Sadness. Loss. Fear. I have layered them one upon the other. Some haphazardly thrown and some neatly placed. They are now my platform. At times I will spread them out to create a path through mud. My own great wall you could say. I am led to a better view. New people. New experiences. Some I leave behind and move on because other troubles will come along. Hopefully they are smaller and lighter, but they will be there, and I will place them under my feet. They will lift me higher. I will have a better view from up here. From here... I see the next big adventure.

Safety

Over the last week I said the same thing in three different conversations.

"I am safe here."

Once at work, once with a friend, and once with a man named...we will call him "Wicked". Because he can be Wicked Funny, Wicked Smart, Wicked Thoughtful, a Wicked Good Fudge Sauce Maker and at times a Wicked Smart ass.

Over the last few years safety had different meanings. Looking back I kept my ship...me...in a harbor.

While Ed and I were divorcing I needed a place to feel emotionally safe. That became me, myself and I. I controlled my emotional safety. I let out what I wanted and let in only what I needed. I didn't grow. I grew stronger, but only in one direction.

Professionally I had moments where I didn't feel safe offering my ideas and suggestions. So I stayed in the harbor. Let in what I needed and let out little. I started to feel like I would burst. 

Have you been to a harbor? You see all types of boats and ships from all over the world. Some fancy schmancy. Some basic and small. But you know they have seen something more, felt something more.

It was time to take my ship out into deeper waters. It was time to take a few risks and test my own knowledge. Did I really know my ship? Could I trust myself? Could I sail in open waters and arrive safely in a new harbor?

I started "dating" online. I made a transition professionally. I opened up more with my Gooseberry Gals. 

So what about the last week caused me to say "I am safe here." 

Professionally we are looking at some big steps. My ideas and suggestions are welcome. I can feel the wind on my face. My mind races and it is encouraged to race. I told my supervisor "I am safe here."

My Gooseberry Gals were discussing some deeper religious topics. Both personal and as a culture. One of the beautiful women put out a comment that could have caused anger, upset, emotional wringing of the hands. Instead as a group were able to voice our beliefs...if we wanted...and still find the beauty and purpose of our group. Safety. I told my friend that I felt we are able to bring up possible uncomfortable questions...I am the self proclaimed queen of uncomfortable questions...and know we will be supported. I told my friend "I am safe here."

As for Wicked. I was unloading a weeks worth of thoughts and events into an email. Our communication had been limited the previous week due to conflicting schedules. I poured and poured into this email. Really...a lot of rambling. I exposed some personal faults. But I knew and said "I am safe here."

Over the last year I have offered more of myself. I have taken some risks emotionally and professionally. My ship is in open water. I make the choice as to my destination. Some days it's smooth sailing. Some days I am fearful of a storm that might build on the horizon.

When I am I put on my life vest. I look to the horizon. I take a deep breathe.  Then I know. I am safe here.

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Counting my blessings. My baby.

My baby. His nick name is Iam, Ike, or Ice.
He had a very rough start in life. Blood transfusions, time in NICU, he loves to hear the story of how Ed thought he was going to get to ride in the UM helicopter when he was to be transferred to another hospital. Sadly he just went by ambulance.
He is a funny young man. He catches me off guard with his comments.
He is the child that was reluctant to ride roller coasters and now competes in longboard races.
Iam loves animals. Especially dogs. The bigger the better. No fear of them.
He talks. And talks. And talks. And talks. And talks.
He has a sweet simple testimony of the church. When he was three he asked me if I remembered him coming to me. I said yes thinking this was his birth story. He then recounted coming through the veil to earth. Simple truth.
His giggle makes me smile.
Big ideas in his head. He will make an impact in this world.
Iam is officially taller than me.He gives great hugs. He lets me tell him I love him.
My baby is becoming a man.

Counting my blessings. Bean.

My boy Bean. Same thing. Saw him at 12 weeks and he was a bean. Grampy made the name stick. 

He drives me completely bonkers. He makes me laugh and smile and cry and cuss all at once. 

He can write. Poems that are sincere. Poems that pierce you through. Poems to make you stop and think and reevaluate.

His Great Grampy loved him. Moran is is middle name. He made Larry beam with pride.

Bean loves his truck. Rusty, beat up red truck. His pride and joy. 

Smart as a whip, but won't let you know it.

Sweetest tender heart. He won't let you know that either.

When he was a little guy. Two years old. No fear of the water. Walked right off the end of the diving board. Came up laughing and went right back. I should have known then his need to push limits.

Bean gives the best bear hugs. 

Those eyes.

It's been a long road. I love this man. He takes care of his Momma. 

Counting my blessings. Peanut.

I have felt the need to tell you about each of my children. One a post. Just what makes them amazing.

First is my beautiful Peanut. She was given that name when she was a wee thing in my body. I had to have many, many ultrasounds when I was pregnant to ensure my babies were developing properly. So at 12 weeks we saw a peanut. It stuck.

Peanut read early. Very early. Say 24 months or so. Even this woman with a focus on infants and the early childhood field didn't know what to do with her. I just showered her with books.

Peanut is a 3rd degree black belt in Tae Kwon Do. Fluid and flexible beauty as she kicks your butt. 

She has an eye for fashion and can find a great bargain at Salvation Army or Macy's.

Peanut has a strong independent mind. She will tell it to you straight. She doesn't hold back.

She can write. She can bs an essay...a talent she gets from her Grammy...or write a poem that touches your heart.

Funny. Funny. Funny girl. She makes me laugh.

She calls her Momma a couple of times a week. Probably to make sure her Momma is ok.

Peanut has an unshakable testimony of her faith and her church. She had wonderful teachers in Young Women's, Sunday School, and Seminary that stepped in when I couldn't pull my weight and be her example.

A married woman who stands beside her man. Supports him. Prays with him. Laughs with him. Loves him.

She is my beautiful baby girl. 

My everyday face.

You have seen this face before. You know me. Full on laughter. Actually more than likely laughing too loud. Sparkling eyes. A genuine smile. Happiness that comes from inside. Some cute shoes and sweet earrings to accent. Love to bargain shop. Listen to about any kind of music. Likes good chocolate. Up for adventure. That is my everyday face. I am a Mormon.

I do not get caught up in politics. I do not push my religion. But I have found that the nation has warped views of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. Mormons. The other day I saw a post that stated  Romney keeps his religion secret. Funny, I really don't think he does. Neither do the approximately 14 million other members. We are pretty open people.

I feel my purpose is to put the everyday face of Mormonism out there. Here it goes. (Keep in mind I have butterflies in my stomach as I post this.)

I was raised Presbyterian. I went to church every Sunday. I was active in our choirs and youth group. My best friends were from church. My sister joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints when I was in fourth grade. So I knew about this church early on. After high school I went to Montreat-Anderson College, a small Presbyterian liberal arts college nestled in the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina. I found dear friends. I met Billy and Ruth Graham, who live there. I was taught by men and women who believed in Christ and were invested in my education. I sowed some wild oats. A few acres!
After college I came to Ann Arbor, Michigan. I sowed some more oats. I went to church with my sister.
I knew I needed more. I was searching. I found it in July of 1989. I was baptized the end of July.

Here is the everyday face.
I believe in Jesus Christ. I know he died for my sins. I believe we have a prophet on the earth today. His name is Thomas S. Monson and he receives revelation. I believe in temple marriages where we can be sealed together for all time and eternity if we are faithful and remain true to our covenants. I believe we all have free agency. I am divorced and attend a church that has a strong focus on family. My ward is my family and my sisters are Tara, Sondra, Julie, Mylisa, Diane, Lisa, Linda, and Karin... and many more. I believe in the Word of Wisdom that helps to keep me balanced and healthy. I get on my knees every morning and pray that my Heavenly Father will watch and protect Peanut, Bean, and Iam no matter what their choices.

We may not believe the same things religiously, politically, or morally. But if you are reading this you know me. You know ME. The people I call "friend" are a mixed bag and I like it that way. If you have a question about Mormonism, please... just ask me. I will be happy to answer. Then we can go get some ice cream!


www.mormon.org
http://www.lds.org

“All the world is made of faith, and trust, and pixie dust.” ― J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan

Trust. I have been working on this area of my life for the last couple of years. Once trust was broken in my marriage to Ed I had a difficult time trusting anyone. Ed, my kids, and especially myself. How could I trust my basic instincts? I won't go into the gory details but I had been so wrong regarding so much in our relationship. I had ignored signs, promptings, and the bitterly honest comments. What was good? What was right? What was trustworthy? 

I found there are two areas I needed to work on. 

One was my faith and trust in Heavenly Father.

The other was  relationships with....men.

Let's start with Heavenly Father, because that one I have down. I pray for guidance or answers. Then if I take the time to really listen and feel I will know the path that my Heavenly Father will have me take. I am not suggesting he answers me by saying "Yep, move here." "You got it girl. Leave that job." At this time in my life he provides me with a patience. When I went to him in prayer regarding my divorce I never received a "Yes." or "No." I had a calm assurance that what I was doing was correct. I never questioned those promptings. 

Men? Meh. I really struggled with this especially as I chose to enter the dating world online. Distance is a huge factor. I had to determine what was a flirt, what was real interest, and what was a player. I had to establish this from written word. I couldn't read facial expressions or hear any sarcasm. As I mentioned before in one year I have found two men worth talking to.

Let's fast forward and No. You are not getting any details here. All you need to know is there is a man and he is patient enough to allow me to work daily on my trust issues. I try my best to sabotage myself and this relationship on a regular basis. My mantras are "Trust this" and "There is joy in the journey." Not every moment is joyful, especially when Nan is flying off the handle about something stupid. What I have discovered is that even the bumpy parts of this journey cause me to step back, reevaluate, and move on. 

Faith, trust, and pixie dust? Isn't pixie dust just believing? Believing in myself and my ability to make decisions. Belief in my faith. Believing I can trust again. I just need to take those steps fairy size.