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.

http://img2.etsystatic.com/000/0/5656739/il_570xN.275428370.jpg

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.