The Lion and the Scarecrow

The Lion and the Scarecrow or Courage and Wisdom
(and how to tell the difference...)

Here is a little secret only survivors know.  People are applauded for their courage when they progress thru some trial......but here's the rub:

This is something only experience can tell someone.  You cannot know it until you are dealing with something monumental.

  Survival isn't heroic and it is NOT courage.  It is simply perseverance.  You don't get a choice but to put one foot in front of the other.  You just keep waking up every morning.  That is all there is to it.  And some days, that is about ALL you can do.  The strength comes from knowing that if the worst happens, and you have to leave your family and friends, it is to wait for them to join you later - when you have the joy of being the one to stand beside Him and greet them.  And that is the secret to survivial.  It isn't courage.....it is knowledge.  Knowledge in that Something and that Somewhere that is bigger than all of us.

So do not call it bravery, call it faith.

All my Eggs in One Basket

Alot of people have asked me what the scariest part about breast cancer is.  I know the answer might seem obvious to a LOT of people.  But honestly, for me, it wasn't the fear of dying.  Or even of getting really sick and suffering and dying.

I believe it God.  And I believe in something, and someplace else, after, that is WAY bigger than me.  So I didn't so much fear an "end."  What I was afraid of was what I would leave behind.

When all this started, my two oldest children had claimed salvation, but my baby had not.  She was too young.  Many parents will say that the happiest day of their lives was when their children were born.  Not me.  I am a big picture kinda gal.  The best days of MY life were when my kids were REBORN.  I am thrilled they are here, do not get me wrong.  But my ultimate goal is to get them to the hereafter so I can enjoy them forever.

So the scariest part was leaving one baby unsecured in the Big World.

Cancer, Easter, and some very teary discussions about lying led her to confess and claim Jesus as her Way.  Talk about dancing out loud!  That was the happiest thing that came out of all this.  Security for her soul.

But then I had another fear.  One most people may not even consider.  Through faults of mine and others, I have a blended family.  My two oldest children were fathered by my ex-husband.  My youngest is the product of my current and last marriage.  My husband has raised all three of my kids and loves them unconditionally. 

My ex has little contact with my older kids and doesn't get involved with the day to day.  While he loves them, my husband is the participating day to day parent.

SO this is my nightmare:  I die.  I leave my children and they are suddenly separated.  The older two are reclaimed by the absent father and moved far away.  They are uprooted and stolen from the home they love, their security, their school, the Daddy who loves them, and their baby sister.  What can I do about that?  How can I let that happen?  I can't.  I won't.  That was my greatest fear.  And it led me to think about how easily we give up on things and dissolve relationships.  How we expect our children to adapt to whatever we throw at them.

In hindsight, I would not have stayed in my previous marriage.  I would not have denied my children the parenting of my current husband either.  I can honestly look back on all my decisions with no regrets and say that I did what was best.  But I also never planned on having to face mortality when my kids were all still minors, and at the mercy of our legal system should I expire.

SO I decided for now, it would probably just be best if I lived. My kids have to have each other.  They have to have the privilege of making one another miserable on a daily basis.  No other option seems......viable.  :)

Clean Cups........

It's funny to me how once you hit a certain age, you kinda feel like you have it down.  For the most part, even the surprises don't really throw you, because you have learned enough out of life by now to have a pattern of response.  There are basic rules, and once learned, you can apply them to the situation and go on.  You have learned to maintain a pace.  You have a pattern, you have WISDOM.

This age is different for everyone.  It comes out of maturity, experience, and yes, chronological age.  Semantics.  For me, this was early in my 30's.  I am definitely not claiming to have obtained a mastery of life or its lessons, I am just saying, that by the time I was, say, 32 or so that I had learned to take life in stride.  Most people know who they are by then, and what they want.

However......

Sometimes something happens that rocks your world to the extent that you are permanently altered.  You don't recognize yourself and all the rules have changed.  This is rare, thank goodness.  And when it does happen, I have observed it usually is the result of some NEGATIVE event.  Someone is widowed.  They are never the same.  Someone loses their job and their marriage.  They are never the same.  Someone gets cancer.  I will never be the same.  Oh the horror.....

Old dogs and new tricks.  Yes, it isn't easy but it can be done.  The old you has to shake hands with the new you and figure out how to live in the same domicile.  People raise their eyebrows because your time tested age old responses are suddenly replaced with the unexpected.  You don't even know what you feel or think at times.  And at first, when I realized how different I was, I was very angry.  I was awkward and uncomfortable.  It reminded me of becoming a teenager and trying to get to know myself.  And it didn't feel fair.

But I am starting to think it is a blessing.  It is a rare opportunity to change the things I have learned to accept as my weaknesses.  Or my hardnesses.  Pick your poison.  Not many grown adults get the opportunity to embrace a total change in demeanor.  And if given the choice, I am sure most would try to avoid it.  I didn't choose it and I WOULD have run from it.  But now that it is here, why can't it be the unique opportunity to get up from our spot at the table, look at what we have been served, and pull a Mad Hatter?

Clean cups clean cups move down move down......

I think I want to see what's waiting further down.  It just might suit me better.......

My real ones tried to kill me......

 

 

 

 

So it's been a looooong summer and quite a while

since I have had a lot to say.  That's not really true, I have just been doing a lot of ruminating trying to figure out how to approach all of this.  There's really not a good way to break it to anyone....

 

you don't sound a trumpet, shout, send out engraved cards or post it on Facebook.  Even if you try and pick the right moment, or just, say, casually slip it in during appetizers at lunch, there is not a right way to say, " they found something....they are taking my breasts."  

 

BAM!  Drama.  POW! 

 

 But, yea, basically that is what is going on.  And that is what they did.  And you know what? I worried about how everyone else would react to the information.  I didn't want to worry anyone. I didn't want to act the "wrong" way about the whole thing.  And now, down the Rabbit Hole and thru the Door, I look back at some of those worries and I think to myself, "Who WERE you?!"  No matter how you act, no matter how you cope, all you have to do is survive it.  All you have to do is jump down the Rabbit Hole and LAND......maybe not even on your feet.  I don't think I CARE how people feel about how I am dealing with it.  When I close the bathroom door and stare in the mirror at FrankenTit and her Evil Twin, it is just me.....no one else.  (And in case you haven't guessed, I seem to be using my typical coping technique.....HUMOR.  Go figure....) 

 

People who love me are just the same.  Some people got angry because I hadn't taken out an ad in the newspaper and they had to hear it second hand.... ?  Some people I called friends, even family, well, they weren't.  And that hurt at first, but now, I don't miss them.  Life is too short.  And others that I considered acquaintances, they became like anchors in a storm.  People I hadn't talked to in YEARS called to say they were praying. 

 

And I lost a little bit of myself......parts I won't get back...(yes, those too, but I am talking about parts of my BEING....emotional essence, etc.....)  But I also met a side of myself that I don't think I knew was in there.  I have always been a stickler about personal space and not a hugger or a toucher.  Now, I seem to be sieged by the necessity to cement some of the bonds I feel towards others with a potentially germ transferring embrace.  WHAM.  Where in HADES does THAT come from?  I also never realized how much I actually LOVE some people.  Oh, my kids, my man, no problem.  But sometimes there are "others" worthy of the assignation.  I have recently been unable to resist VERBALIZING that tidbit.  sheeesh.  No one warned me all this would be so HARD. 

 

So now that I am functioning (more or less) I plan to touch base a bit more often and journal a bit about the struggles that come out of lopping the "girls" off and facing mortality.  And I plan to do it with humor, cause basically I have a Kelly Clarkson-ridden sound track playing in my subconscious all the time, and just when I thought it wasn't possible, it just gets more and more interesting. 

 

(for those who can't stand suspense - I have a great prognosis.  Blessings at every turn.  Genetic testing came back negative for BART1, BART2, and BRAC...my girls are as safe as anyone else.  :D -- but stay tuned....it's been getting interesting)



 

 I WENT THRU 63 HOURS OF LABOR AND ALL I GOT WAS THESE STRETCH MARKS...NOT.

 

Aaaaah, Mother's Day.  For many, the mere words bring visions of flowers, brunches, slippers, jewelry, even the spa.  There are beautiful options for gifts to pay tribute to the sacrifices and love given by the world's mothers.  Media and big business usually count Mother's Day as one of the biggest money makers of the year.  Good for them.

 

In MY world, and MY house, Mother's Day means something different.  Mother's Day is about inspiration.  I won't make much of a suggestion about a gift, not even if asked.  Years ago, I made it very clear to my husband that between us, this was NOT a gift giving occasion.  YES, I deserve ALOT for the sacrifices I make.  But I signed on for this role because I love it.  And, while I want my children to honor my motherhood - and frankly, I want my husband to do so too - I want them to do it in the manner of THEIR choosing.  I do not want a token suggested by commercialism or subliminal pressuring on my part.  I want to see the expression of their inspiration. 

 

There is always THE breakfast.  It is fascinating.  The concoctions have changed thru the years, and each year the menu and method more closely resemble the way I cook breakfast.  This in itself is a fabulous gift.  Their attempt to duplicate MY breakfast is the sincerest form of flattery.  Behind the occasional broken dish, burned bacon, and undercooked pancakes is the "hey Mom, we like the way you cook."

 

And every year, my husband cooks out for me, my mom, his mom, my grandmother...anyone who can come to be honored in this way.  He makes me chicken, the way I like it, on the grill, and then he and the kids clean up the mess.  Meals like this are the few occasions when I am not the last served, when I don't have to prepare or clean up the meal.  Beyond these perks, there also lies the message "hey, honey, I know you always take your portion last, cook what WE want, and sprinkle on the love."

 

Most Mother's Days, I get to choose a chore outside that I want done and we all take it on together.  One year we planted an herb garden.  Another time it was the construction of a chicken coop.  This year, we just groomed my ponies, cleaned the boat, and spent time with our dogs.  I love to be outside, but many times, when the work day is done, supper is cooked and cleaned up, and all is as it should be, the darkness has settled and the day is gone and I have missed my chance.  These chore parties are my family's way of saying, "we know you always put our wants first, and don't always have time for your task list."

 

This year, there were gifts.  There always are, even though I tell them all I want is the time together.  There were the drawings done secretly at school.  The homemade cards.  Each and every single child made some heartfelt gesture.  And then there were a few unexpected surprises too.  Little things that show me I am doing something right.  My kids showed me today that they listen to me.  That I am not only their mom, but that they have paid attention to the person I am. 
     -A press on manicure.  I bite my nails.  Horribly.  It is an awful habit and it comes from
          nervousness.  Everyone around me knows it, and knows how hard I try to stop it.
          My oldest daughter knows that if I spend time and effort on my nails, I don't....well
           not as bad anyway.
     -A pitcher and a travel cup with a straw.  I have been trying so hard to lose weight and
         be healthier this year.  I have been trying to drink water more and cut out soda.  
     -A bird feeder.  When I subscribed to BIRDS AND BLOOMS earlier this year, and the
         kids asked me what I was reading, I explained that someday, I wanted to have all
         kinds of birds come to our yard so I could see them and take pictures.  And I told
         them how you have to create the appropriate habitats for all the different kinds.
     -Cinnamon Altoids.  Because they are WAY better than the peppermint ones, and I 
         am always complaining to my son because the cinnamon are harder to find.    
     -Makeup brushes.  Both my girls watch me put on my face and these sessions are
         usually instructive.  We talk about application of makeup, cleanliness, etc.  But
         it's really more about a special and REGULARLY SCHEDULED time to teach my girls
         about being a lady and being a woman. 
Silly as I may be, each of these presents were met by tears.  My kids SEE me.  They HEAR me.  My kids KNOW me.  And I am important to them, not just because I am MOM, but because they LOVE who I am.  It is not JUST the all encompassing love of a child, but the acceptance of me as a person.  What an added bonus, what a WONDERFUL affirmation of my worth.

Being a mom is so much more than a designation that settles on you when you physically give birth.  It is a choice to live your life in a different way.  A decision you make to forever after put others first, to give with no thought of reciprocation, to literally live your life for the benefit of someone else.  It is exhausting and heartbreaking.  By definition given above, it sounds insane and masochistic.  But only those who make this choice will ever know the rewards.  That when you empty yourself out so completely for someone else, it leaves not a hole, but room that is filled with joy unequaled. 

Today, there are men and women everywhere that serve in this role.  Motherhood is a calling that is rooted in the heart.  It is not defined by relationship, but by love.  No matter the circumstances, if you love, care for, and serve others, you are a mother.  And you answer a noble calling. 

After 27 months of pregnancy, 63 hours and 22 minutes of labor, 14 stitches, 3 broken bones, countless groundings, one drivers license, and 7 stretch marks, I can honestly say I am blessed and rejoicing.  And my heart is full.  HAPPY MOTHERS DAY.

 

 

Parenting with Intent

 

 

Intentional parenting means choosing to raise children with a defined desired outcome.

The motive is driven by who or what they need to become.  What values and character traits are you trying to preserve for the next generation?  More importantly, what do you want to instill that is powerful enough to not only be evident in your ADULT children but will withstand and pass on THROUGH to your grandchildren, great grandchildren, etc.?

 

"Teaching moment!!!"  This is the inward cry of the intentional parent's heart when facing a critical moment where you must address your child's issue, failure, or a potential disaster.  Like when my teenage daughter casually wants to know if I will take her to get a navel piercing.  Or the second grader tells me not to leave blue hair dye off the shopping list.  Or when the subject matter has a much more grievous and lasting impact--my discovery that at two weeks post-birthday, my eighteen year old had STILL not mailed his voter registration in because he was uncertain of his political party.  (I admit I had to struggle past mortification before I gathered myself for THAT teaching moment.)

I hear it all the time: parents hate to say no. We hate to deny our kids anything.  Oh, we want to give them the whole world.  NOT ME.  I love to say NO.  I like the way it feels when uttered like an expletive.  Let them grow up and go get the world for themselves-they will appreciate it more that way.  And if we are lucky, they may take better care of it if the earn it.  See, that would be an important lesson.  And not only do I love to say NO, I like to follow it up by explaining, WHY NOT.

I like to sit my captive audience down and watch him or her grow ever more surly as I expound upon the reasons I am denying their petition.  It is a wonderful thing to watch as they pass from indignation, to apathy, on to that carefully crafted zombie-eyed stare.  And then as we hover on the fifth point of my explanation and are creeping into the second half hour of the lecture....there it is.  If only for a few flickering fleeting seconds.  COMPREHENSION.  And the life lesson is planted.  It WILL take root.  We may not get to see that part, but it's there, thinly veiled behind......ahhhhhh: indignation again.

One day, if nurtured correctly, it may come into view as the blossom of our intentional parenting efforts.  Pay careful attention, as it may show itself in the oddest of forms.  It may be that moment when your thirteen year old daughter faces the wrath of her friends by stepping in to stop vicious gossip.  Or maybe when you son quits flirting with the young waitress to hold a door open for the elderly lady in the coffee shop.  Or maybe you will see it in your seven year old as she prays through her tears after an election result.  And then again, it may not show itself for years and years until your grown child calls you in disgust and says, "Thanks, Mom.  I sound just like YOU!"

They listen. They hear.  They process your teachings.  I want to parent with intent.  I am responsible not just for their needs and wants, but for their "shoulds."  So they become who they were meant to be.

Surviving the Human Condition

Life is a tragedy or a comedy.....or a mystery, horror film, romance....it depends on how you spin it.  You can keep a staggering tally of gripes and complaints.  You can ennumerate the wrongs and flaws.  You can live your entire life as a tribute to negativity.  We all get that way and our feelings are easily justifiable.  But right now, right here, I choose to celebrate the rights:

1.  God is here.  No matter what is going on right this second.  No matter   where we are.  He IS here.

2.  I love my husband.  He is my partner.  My stubborn, impossible, infuriating love.  He's mine forever, and I love him.

3.  My kids are perfect...ly mine.  Shut up, they are MY kids, so they will always be the best when it is MY story.

4.  I love my job, even when I am tired and burned out and counting the minutes until Friday.

We are each drafting our own epic drama, and mine is going to be a feel-good flick.  We can laugh, or we can cry.  We can wail, or we can sing.  I choose to live MY life always looking for the positive and enjoy the crazy drama and comedy that comes with it.  Hoping I can learn and share.

Surely, between the kids, the man, the farm, the hotrods, and the redneck shenanigans, I will have PLENTY of fodder for the plot line.  :D