Where were you when the World Stopped Turning?

NEVER FORGET

Where were you when the world stopped turning that September day?

Everything seems so normal. But this date will never be normal. The memories are burned into my brain as clearly as when I saw the Challenger explode, as clearly as the day our school principal announced the President was shot, as clearly as the day I sat with my brother at a memorial for John Lennon. But somehow, these memories are so much harder to think about. Somehow my brain still wants to think it was all just a horrible dream that everyone I know happened to have. But it certainly wasn't a dream. It did happen. And today I feel the need to remember. My FDNY tshirt is all faded and worn out. Don bought it for me that October and all proceeds went to the Firefighters Fund. He bought one for each of us so that we could feel like we were contributing if even just in the smallest way.

I still vividly remember pulling into the parking lot at work and hearing the DJ (Ron Olson) say a "small" plane just hit the World Trade Center. I ran in and flipped on my computer so I could read about it on MSNBC and since I'm a newshound, decided to go turn on the tv in the kitchen to see if the TODAY show had better info. I stood there in horror as I watched the second plane hit. Immediately everyone realized this was NOT an accident and that certainly wasn't a commuter plane. I knew I needed to get back to my desk (I was a receptionist at the time) but it was as if my feet were made of lead. I just wanted to stand there and wait for someone to tell me it wasn't real. The phones were so quiet that day. The only calls we got were from family members and friends who had the next news report or sometimes the next rumor. I remember being terrified to go to a gas station because someone said they were attacking them with sarin gas. Kayla was three and I remember just wanting to race to the daycare and pick her up and hold her. Brian had moved to California and we were barely on speaking terms but I remember his phone call and feeling like I should be nice to him at that moment and let bygones be bygones. Don called about every 20 minutes. At that time he had a job where he was on the road most of the day so he had the radio on and was getting constant news reports. I remember the theories that other planes were in the air and that the West Coast was next. I remember that the White House was a target and suddenly they were showing the President in Louisiana about to get on Air Force One to go who knows where. Then the Pentagon was hit. And then of course Pennsylvania. I will remember that entire day for the rest of my life (as I imagine will all of you). The plane crashes were horrific but when the buildings came down, it was the worst news I'd ever heard in my life. I wonder if the terrorists knew the buildings would fall, or even considered they might. I think of all the people who were in stairwells on their way out when the walls came crumbling down around them. Its certainly one of those "Why God????" questions.

The entire day still just seems surreal. I remember finally going home that night and just sitting in front of my TV. I let Kayla fall asleep in my lap and I laid awake all night just watching the news unfold. My mom had just had back surgery so my aunt was here from California and was supposed to fly home on the 12th but of course was stuck here for another week. Those days when the planes were grounded were so odd. I remember looking up at the blue sky and not seeing anything. The first plane I saw when they started to fly again looked too low. A lot of planes look too low to me now.

Over the years I've found myself drawn to the books, the movies and documentaries. World Trade Center is an amazing film mostly about the good of that day. Remember the good? Remember how everyone was a lot nicer to others? Remember how you were proud to be an American? Remember how there were flags and red, white, and blue everywhere?

Do you remember the first time you heard laughter after 9/11? Do you remember the day when it was ok to smile again? I didn't think it would ever be ok.

God Bless America.
#WhereWereYou

Cowboy

Once upon a time, a boy gave me a box filled with amazing things along with a letter explaining them all. There were crystal flower candlesticks in the hopes I'd always have flowers. And of course, candles so that I'd always have light (and remember him when the electricity went out). There was a Dopey musical figurine so that I would always have music in my life as well as the happiness and magic of a Disney movie. The last thing in the box was an empty heart trinket box. In the letter, he said, "Right now it is empty, but as you fill it, I hope your own heart is filled and is never empty again."

A year ago today, that boy who grew into an amazing man, left us. He still brings me gifts though. I see him in yellow butterflies (not sure why that's his symbol but it is), I hear his laughter - the deepest belly laugh you can imagine. I feel his encouragement that was with me in good times and bad over our 30-year friendship. I think of him when I watch baseball, when I listen to old school country music, and when I say something completely sarcastic. He showed me great love and kindness and I hope he knew how much he meant to me.

There were times we fell out of touch but it was never for long and it was always as if no time had passed. He was my Cowboy. I'd love the chance to sit on his porch again in the country and be mesmerized by the stars after enjoying a dinner of good ol home cooking. Remembering you Rick. Wishing you were here.

Long Live the King

"Rock and roll music, if you like it, if you feel it, you can't help but move to it. That's what happens to me. I can't help it." - Elvis Presley

Where were you when you heard Elvis died?

I was only 6 but I was already a fan. We had just moved to Memphis and when the news came out we loaded up our station wagon and headed to Graceland.   It was pouring down rain but there we stood with hundreds of other Memphians and news crews.  I got my first Elvis album the day I broke my leg.  I was 8.  I listened to it over and over and memorized all the songs.  Teddy Bear and Hound Dog were my favorites back then.  Now I think if I HAD to choose I'd say American Trilogy or Rubberneckin are at the top.   To this day his voice warms my soul. I know he wasn't a perfect human being but that doesn't mean he shouldn't be remembered. Worshiped? Of course not. But today I will listen to my Elvis music and sing along loudly. I'm from Memphis but I would love him no matter where I lived.

 #proudElvisfan. 

#42years

 #canthelpfallinginlove

 #lovetowatchhimdance

New Year's Eve - 2017

"In a dark time, the eye begins to see."- Theodore Roethke

Its funny how we humans think the turn of a calendar page will magically start things over... that we can wash our hands of the days behind and just keep marching forward. In a sense I guess that is true as every new day brings forth a new sunrise and 24 hours in which anything can happen. But there are also continual things that don't just stop because of a New Year's countdown. On Tuesday I will still have to deal with how to get a new car. On Tuesday Mike will still be gone. On Tuesday I will still have to deal with Things that You Don't Talk About on Facebook. In the same regard though, this year has taught me more than any other that every minute counts.... every word, every thought, every action. It all changes so fast.

Kayla said after the wreck that she thought it was a wake up call... not for us necessarily but maybe for the other driver. She didn't know how right she was but it wasn't for the other driver. It was for me. I've been in a fog this year .... a light fog at first but a very dense fog since we lost Mike. I know its the natural process of things and I know I still have a lot of work to do but Thursday's accident definitely started to lift that fog. When I think about the moment of impact and how different things might have been I shudder and praise God at the same time. There is zero doubt in my mind that angels surrounded our car and protected us from further impact. We were given a new chance to live life with clearer understanding of just how precious every moment is.

2017 hasn't been my favorite year for a lot of reasons and turning the calendar tomorrow will not fix all of those things. However my very wise friend Georgia said this when posting about the ice on her lake -

"Perhaps God is saying -Go paint something marvelous , beautiful and glowing with your life today .

Or perhaps it’s a gentle reminder to take a moment of Peace with Him - thaw out and let His light fill your soul .

Or perhaps He’s saying it’s ok to be frozen in life at moments because with every cold snap of life there is
a “just around the corner” -warming of the Son, and soon clarity in the thaw will surface....

Or perhaps it’s just frozen water on a little random lake , on a awkwardly cold day in December -
.... I don’t think so!"

She posted this the morning after our accident. I realized I've been in a frozen state... scared to see what a new day could bring, scared to let myself be close to anyone anymore, scared to put words on paper because words make the tears flow... scared to let God put His arms around me and let me just be.

But after Thursday I'm starting to feel the thaw... the warming of the Son. I'm not on this Earth to stay frozen and stagnant. I've always been told I have a light in me that other people see but I'm afraid I've been hiding that in my own self pity and grief and for that I am truly sorry. I've had friends and family reach out and every gesture has meant the world to me but I'm also realizing I've been my own worst enemy. I was in survival mode. I literally just put one foot forward and took life as it came but I missed out on the joy EVERY SINGLE DAY has the potential to bring. I'm not saying my grief process is over by any means... and there may be days where I feel the need to be in my cave again. BUT tomorrow IS a new year... a new start full of new adventures and new hopes and new goals.

My promise is that I will wake up with HOPE in my heart. That I will choose to focus on the JOY in each moment. That I will let FEAR take a backseat to COURAGE AND STRENGTH. And that I will continue to sit in the LIGHT of the SON and let Him thaw my spirit until it SHINES again.

Sticks and stones

Words.  I love them.  I'm a writer.  Some people speak in actions, some in art, some in song.  I write.  I write much more eloquently than I speak.  When I speak I get tongue tied and what I say never sounds like it did when it was in my head.  I have a deep need to put my thoughts, hopes, dreams, anger, frustration and love down on paper.  Sometimes I walk around for days with things in my head that I know must be written down or they will be lost forever.  

Words.  I hate them.  They can cut right through your heart.  They can make you feel like a teeny tiny ant on the sidewalk... the one going the wrong way that can't find any food.  They can tear people apart, especially when after the yucky words come out, people are too scared to try to turn it around with the right words for fear of rejection.  

My first marriage was not a healthy one.  Angry voices were more common than not along with name calling and humiliation, even in front of friends.  Its been 15 years since that relationship ended and to this day I can’t freely cry because I used to be told I was stupid for doing so…. UNLESS I’m embarrassed.  When someone scolds or corrects me, no matter how gently, I’m a puddle of tears and its unstoppable.  

When we were kids we used to say “sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never harm me”.   But that mentality doesn’t hold up to abuse.   Words DO hurt, and unlike physical abuse, the damage isn’t visible to others.   ALL forms of abuse are long lasting and dehumanizing.  

Words have power both for good and for evil.  They can lift you up and knock you down all in the same conversation.  They shape who we are and define our relationships.  It all starts when we are young.  I vividly remember my two year old daughter telling her baby doll in a very stern and frustrated voice, "I DON'T HAVE TIME FOR THIS!!"  It slapped me straight across the face when I realized she was parroting what she heard me say when we got ready in the mornings.  It didn't feel very good to know I was teaching her that was ok and normal.  From that day forward I vowed to try to be more patient and gentle with my words. As parents we don't realize what an impact every word has, not to mention the inflection and purpose behind what we say.  I have very vivid memories of my dad smacking himself on the forehead with his hands saying "stupid stupid stupid!!"  It hurt to watch and only now do I understand those actions carried over from his childhood.  

I know every parent has the right to raise their child however they see fit but it truly breaks my heart to listen to the way people talk to their kids sometimes. Do I get irritated and frustrated with my children?  Of course I do.  But I don't think its ok to tell a toddler to "Shut up" and I certainly don't agree with public humiliation and shame.  I see it all too often and think if it crushes me, what kind of impact does it have on the child?  

I teach Pre-K 5 and love every second of it but I'm constantly being told so and so said something to hurt someones feelings.  We talk A LOT about kindness in my classroom and several weeks ago I sat them all down to talk about words.  I took a piece of paper and said things I had heard them say to each other like "I don't like your shirt" and "You're not my friend" and with each insult I crumpled the paper up more and more.  Then I handed the paper to one of the kids and asked them to straighten it back out.  They passed it from friend to friend, each one trying to straighten the paper to its original form until finally the paper was so weak it tore apart. I was trying to impress on them that hurtful words leave their mark.  Its a lesson I found on the internet and at the time I wasn't sure how much impact it would have on 5 year olds.   Fast forward to Friday during free time where one of the kids told another they hated him.  He came to me crying and I put the offending child in timeout.  Within the next five minutes two other kids had said the same thing to the offending child, I'm guessing as a sign of solidarity with the kid who was hurt.  Hate is a word that is never ok in my book.  I took all the kids and sat them down to talk again about words and kindness and especially the word hate.  We had a lively discussion that ended with me telling them that each child had their own special voice and talents to share with the world and that no one should ever be allowed to take that away from them.   We shared compliments with each other and I felt good about the life lesson.  Later that afternoon, the child whose friend had said those awful words brought me a crumpled up napkin and said, "Ms Betsey, this is what my heart felt like after (offending child) said they hated me."  

See, children listen.  What we say matters.  I'm not saying everyone should shower their children with compliments 24/7 and never discipline them.  There is always a right time for the right words said in a calm and respectful manner in order to get a point across.  I'm not a Pollyanna that thinks the world is all sunshine and rainbows.   But I do think the world would be a gentler place if we could just step back when frustration and anger take over.   Think before you speak.... old advice that rings so true.  From the time even before our children begin to speak, they listen.  They hear us sing, laugh, and yes, yell.  

Words have power. We say thousands of them every day.   Would you rather use yours to build someone up or bring them down?  Kindness matters.  

Mother's Day thoughts...

Mother's Day is next Sunday. I used work for an industry that pushes love for your mom and while I hit the jackpot in the mom dept, I'm well aware that for many this is a hard holiday to get through.

My heart is with those who have broken relationships with their moms.
My heart is with those who have lost a child.
 My heart is with all the dads who fill the mom void for any reason. 
My heart is with those who have struggled with infertility.
My heart is with those who gone from the child to the caretaker.
My heart is with those who have lost their moms.

My wish for you all is that you are surrounded by other women in your life who can lift you up and help you begin to heal those wounds. Even in the midst of celebration, you are not forgotten.

(These are my words from my heart, not something I copied and pasted. Feel free to share but please give credit if you do.)

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Things were trucking along pretty well for us for a while now. And then last night happened. Due to a freakish medical incident ((#RespecttheHIPPAyall)), Don had a single car accident. Car (borrowed from a friend) totaled, Don thankfully just bruised but what this is really about is just the reminder of how precious each moment is. 

The car stopped feet away from a gas line.

The car didn't hit the tree in the path. 

The accident happened on our street (literally 10 ft from our house-  and not on Hwy 64 where he could have hit someone head on. 

He was wearing a seatbelt and the airbag worked. 

So many factors could have been different. Don't take your family for granted. Don't take your health for granted. We are still processing the situation and there are a lot of complicated things ahead but my husband is asleep in the bedroom instead of a hospital or not here at all. 

For that I'm grateful.

Do what you love, love what you do

I have always firmly believed that you should do what you love and love what you do. I've been pretty lucky to have jobs that make me feel like I'm making a difference in the world (except for that one month I worked as "Label Maintenance" at Target ...just me and a bunch of shelves and price labels. It's as awful as it sounds)

I had a possible new opportunity come my way this week and while I would have enjoyed it, I know in my heart I am exactly where God wants me to be right now. On Monday AM, three of my kids nearly knocked me over as they ran towards me screaming "Ms Betsey we missed you!!!!" and wrapping their arms around my legs in the best kind of five year old hug. On Tuesday they showered me with Valentine love. 

And today, well today I cried the sweetest, proudest tears, as the kid who struggles the most to learn, made a perfect J with Froot Loops and then asked to do it again. He's learning!! And I'm teaching him! Who can ask for more?? 

#MsBetseysPreschoolAdventures #Ilovemyjob#itsnotworkwhenyouwoulddoitforfree #blessed

Thoughts on life and death...

I know a lot of people who have earned their angel wings. A lot. 

But since I was very young, I've been very aware of the fragility of life. I consider that perspective a gift. It's why I try not to sweat the small stuff. It's why I do my best to find old friends and keep old friends. It's why I wear deelyboppers on my head in public and why I laugh at my class clown for just a second before trying to regain control of the room. It's why I love to tell strangers their smile or laugh made me smile. It's why I try to always make sure friends and family know how much they mean to me. Say what you need to say-Always. It's why I love a good book and a great movie... everyone has a story to tell and everyone's story deserves to be heard. It's part of why I believe in God because I find comfort in knowing those lost are still watching over me. And faith is the only way I can deal with the sudden, much too young losses.

I have to believe there is a plan and a purpose. The people who have gone before me have all left a mark on my soul. I remember their smiles, their voices, their laughs. Every person I meet changes me hopefully for the better. I long to be someone who others see as kind, compassionate and loving. Because even if we all plan to live to be 117, there will always be those who leave us too soon. I want to make sure my last words to them were kind ones and I pray maybe I changed their life for the better too.

So yes, I know a lot of angels but that just means my life is rich and full. Life isn't about politics or business or money or things. Life is about humanity and compassion and kindness and love. Life is fragile but it was also meant to be LIVED OUT LOUD! It's meant to be fun and silly and spontaneous and even sad and tragic and unexpected. Sometimes all of those things happen in one single day. But embrace it! With each moment LOVE fully and smile at strangers. Cry at Hallmark commercials and just sit on the couch doing nothing with your significant other or your kids. Those insignificant moments become significant when memories are all that are left behind. 

#ibelieveinangels #kindnessmatters #makeeverybreathcount#wearthedeelybopperswithwildabandon

May all your days be Circus Days

By now you have probably heard the Ringling Brothers Barnum and Bailey is disbanding the Circus in May. I know people have feelings about the animal acts but to me the Circus will always be a special place and the news makes me sad. 

Most but not all of you know my first wedding took place during a performance of the Ringling Brothers Circus. I won an essay contest on "Why I Want my Wedding to be the Greatest Show on Earth. Over 300 people entered the contest. We were the second non circus couple in history to be married under the big top....the first just a week before us - same contest, different part of the country. 

Before the wedding I was back in Clown Alley and one of the clowns played Roy Orbison's Pretty Woman on his guitar as I walked by. My ex and his best man rode in on elephants and I had a horse drawn carriage. The calliope played the wedding march and 15 clowns and 15 showgirls were our attendants. The ringmaster escorted my mom in. Our first act as a married couple was to blow the whistles that start the Circus. The lights went out and we were quickly escorted to our seats. When the lights came on I was face to face with an elephant. I ate sno cones and popcorn in my wedding dress while sitting front row center.

It's a part of my life I will never forget. Thanks for the memories Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus. May all your Days be Circus Days!

MLK and me

I was born in 1971. Segregation was over and I grew up with friends of all races. My generation is the first where we could go to school together, drink from the same water fountains, date freely, and even just ride a bus together. This week I've been thinking about all of the times race has been a factor in my life. I remember when I was in elementary school and didn't know any better we were so angry about the busing. Some of the kids changed the words of Pink Floyds "Brick in the Wall" to "We don't need no blacks at our school". I was naive enough to join in and actually wrote about it in my diary along with my feelings about Dr. Willie Herenton. (Hey, Willie, leave us kids alone!). Keep in mind I was 10 at the time.

I vividly remember the disdain of my next door neighbor when she found out a black family was moving into the house on the corner. I remember bringing black friends to my house and my dad making comments that I won't repeat here. I also remember him saying that word that makes me cringe when talking about why he couldn't get a job at FedEx. We were in the car and he was ranting and I calmly looked at him and asked him to never say that word in my presence again. He hasn't.

Its hard for me to fathom that people I'm friends with currently went through such discrimination. It really hurts my heart. Every one of my elementary / high school friends' parents lived through the 50's and 60's. I cannot even fathom living in world like that. To be taught to act that way towards another human being... or to teach my children that kind of attitude. I guess that's what hurts my heart the most... none of us are born realizing our differences. Its all taught. Nobody is born a bigot. I still see it in some of the posts on my feed which means they are teaching their children the same attitudes. I see my best friend endure it in the workplace and in her struggle to raise her three children - to teach them we are equal even though the world still disagrees. I went to see the movie Hidden Figures yesterday and cried at the things "the coloreds" endured. We have come a long way thankfully but we still have miles to go.

"I look to a day when people will not be judged by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character." - Martin Luther King, Jr and Betsey Harwood Bogen#kindnessmatters

18 years

My favorite customer this morning was a woman who had her two daughters with her.  They were probably about 6 and 8 and would wander just a few feet away from their mom to check out the stuffed animals or some of the trinkets around the cash register.  She was visibly frustrated trying to herd them like cats.  The girls were not disruptive and certainly weren't hurting anything so I smiled and told the mom that although I could certainly relate to her frustration, try to remember we only get 18 Very Short Years.  We chatted about how life moves so fast and the normal everyday stuff gets in the way of remembering to savor the magical (that also happens everyday).  She took a breath and said "Thank You, I needed that."

This afternoon at Target I saw a couple of blonde headed little boys exploring the shelves and heard their dad an aisle over calling them back to him.  When I turned the corner, the two boys were with their dad along with an older brother AND the dad was pushing a double stroller that held newborn twins, one boy, one girl.  I commented about her being the only girl and he smiled and told me her older sister was in another part of the store with mom.  Wow!  I tried to do the math... seven? No, six.  Dad smiled at the babies in the stroller and said "They were a surprise.".  I laughed and commented that one is a surprise, two is a shock!  He responded by saying one was a surprise, two was an even sweeter surprise.   

Not everyone is meant to be a parent but I'm certain it is exactly what I was meant to be.  My two girls remind me to see the wonder and magic in everyday life.  They fascinate me.  They confuse me.  They frustrate me.  They amaze me.

My oldest is on the threshold of 18.  How the hell did that happen??  Seriously.  Yesterday she was a short little toddler with big blue eyes and the prettiest blonde ringlets.  She was sassy, smart, and sweet.  She loved animals, french fries, and chocolate.  Did I mention she was stubborn?  Way more stubborn than anyone I had ever met in my lifetime.  I wasn't sure what to do with all that fire in her eyes.  One minute she was the most loving little girl wrapping me in a big hug.  The next she was throwing a tantrum complete with kicking and screaming.  I would just shut her door and let her squeal which only made her even more mad.  I read parenting books about "high spirited" children and talked to my mom about my sister who was a bit high spirited herself.  But only experience taught me how to handle this little hurricane I was given to raise.  It only took me 17 and 1/2 years but I've got her all figured out now.... just in time for her to take that free independent sassy spirit into the real world and start figuring it out on her own.  Oh, I'll never stop being her mom.  I'll always be here anytime she needs me and I'm certainly not packing her bags and throwing her out anytime soon.  But the raising part?  That's about done.  She is who she is and I learned a long time ago I couldn't stop that strong will no matter what I did or said. She is still every bit of who she was when she was little but now she speaks German instead of Whinese.
I pray I've taught her kindness and compassion above all.  I pray that she and I will always be close no matter where her free spirit takes her.   Mostly I hope she knows I gave her (and will always give her) my best. 

My youngest is 10.  We still have a few years of figuring each other out.  She is right on the edge of bouncing between Sweet and Eye roll.  At 10 she is taller than I ever hoped to be at that age and will soon outgrow my shoe size.  She is a lover of Minecraft, LEGOs, lizards and Harry Potter. Oh and fedora hats!  She has one for every day of the week.  Although the teen years are fast approaching, I hope to have an easier time with her.  She is a redhead which automatically gives her some spunk and sass but she is much less obstinate than her older sister.  The stubborn streak is there but the iceberg melts a little faster.  We are constantly learning how to communicate.  She is learning to trust that maybe I really was 10 once and can somewhat understand what she's feeling.  I am learning to be very patient as she tries to figure out all the new feelings that pre-teens have to deal with.  While my oldest is the hurricane, this kid is more like a supercell thunderstorm.  Its sunny one moment, the skies turn dark, there is some thunder, lightning, high winds and a downpour... and then you get the rainbow.   When those storms come in the next few years I need to remind myself to watch for the rainbow.

18 years goes by in such a flash.  You can tell any new parent that but they won't believe you until their own kid is 6 months away from legal adulthood.  The messy faces, the endless laundry, the temper tantrums, the teenage angst, the not so great report card grades, the scolding, the tears (mom and child!)... all gone in a flash.  None of that will matter in the end.  The hugs, the tea parties, the snuggles, the lullabies, the talks in the car when the kids think you are just making conversation but you are secretly trying to teach them something, the field trips, the giggles, the walks around the neighborhood, more hugs and snuggles... that's what you remember.  After 18 years that's what will make you smile when the house is too quiet.  The love.  In the end that's all parenting really is.  Endless Unconditional Love. 

Serenity

During the time Kayla was hospitalized, I looked up the Serenity Prayer that we are all familiar with.  You know, the one usually associated with AA and other recovery groups.  I was surprised to see there is more to the prayer than just that first verse.  The whole thing goes like this…  

God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.

Living one day at a time;
enjoying one moment at a time;
accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;
taking, as He did, this sinful world
as it is, not as I would have it;
trusting that He will make all things right
if I surrender to His Will;
that I may be reasonably happy in this life
and supremely happy with Him
forever in the next.
Amen.

I kept that prayer loaded on my phone as Kayla recovered and it has become almost the perfect prayer to me.  There was so much that happened that was just out of my control and I had no choice but to surrender it.  I recently used it in a talk I gave at a spiritual retreat and found myself saying the words in my head when I felt overwhelmed by the things happening that weekend.  You see I was the time keeper and was responsible for keeping everything on schedule.  Those who know me know that being prompt is just not my thing.  The prayer helped me remember that as a human I can only do so much.  There will be trials, tragedy, and things that are just beyond my realm of understanding.   God will help you deal with whatever hard things come up when the time comes.  Trusting Him is a lifetime struggle for a lot of us but the peace that comes with that trust is like nothing else you've ever experienced.  Try it for just one day and see how it goes.  It might be enough to make you want to try it again the next day.  

Feelings, whoaaaaaa, Feeelings....

I've been avoiding this post.  I've been staring at Facebook, doing dishes, laundry, watching mindless TV... whatever it took to not have to post this.  Even now I'm not sure it will be successful.  If you haven't been keeping up, click here.   After I emailed a friend the story he replied with "I can only imagine how you and Don must have felt throughout the whole experience."  Felt?  I was much too busy doing to feel.  I had to watch over my daughter and make sure she was getting all the help she needed.  I had to make sure she was not in pain.  I had to make sure she was resting.  I had to inform everyone else about what was going on... there were Facebook posts to reply to and text messages and phone calls.  There was no time to feel.  I was in Mama Lion mode.  I had to have the brave face and not let on to Kayla just how scared I would have been if I had given myself time to think about it.  Even now I'm not sure I want to go there.  Or that I can go there.   Everyone asks me how I am and I smile and say I'm fine.  We are taking it day by day.  The meds are working.  The blood clot has dissolved.  All is well.  Really.  Every now and then when I'm telling the story I can feel the emotions creeping up but just as the eyes start to water, I push it back down.  I'd be silly to fall apart now... three months out from everything that happened.

The truth is, we almost lost her.  But my heart can't go there.  My brain knows it.  I know the severity of everything we dealt with.  I know blood transfusions aren't just normal everyday procedures.  I know she was severely malnourished and her vital organs could have been permanently damaged.  I know Dr. Cross said we were lucky we came to the hospital when we did.  I know Dr. Mike was trying to tell me with his eyes how quickly things could turn for the worse when we discovered the blood clot.  I know he was trying to speak the truth without speaking the whole truth when he told me to be prepared for her to end up in ICU if the blood thinners and the Ulcerative Colitis worked against each other as they feared.  I will never forget the look in his eyes.  I know my heart jumped when he said "St. Jude".  I know my heart broke when Kayla woke up from the scope and said "Are they sure its not cancer?".   I know things were serious.  I know things could potentially be serious again someday down the road if the meds don't work.  I know another piece of my heart broke when she said "I didn't know how badly I felt until I felt better.  Its been probably two years since I've felt this good".  That means half of her teenage years.  Half.  My brain knows that.

My heart knows it too.  I'm just not ready to go there.  I'm not sure I ever can.  As I watch her prance (as she calls it) through the kitchen with a smile and energy that I haven't seen in probably a year, I am hopeful for her future.  School starts soon and she's ready to go back.  I want her to thrive this year and take advantage of everything good that is coming her way... new classes, new friendships, new interests.  Its such a magical time in a kid's life and I want her to embrace her opportunities.  My heart wants to be happy for her, not sad.  My heart wants her to have more happiness than I could ever dream for her.  Maybe one day I'll have my meltdown.  Maybe one day the tears will come and I will feel refreshed and get in touch with my emotions.  I don't know.  I'm still waiting for the meltdown from when she had a febrile seizure at age 2.  For now I choose to be thankful and happy that today is a good day.  (Ok, its only 10am but so far.... )  I'm thankful and happy that Kayla prances with a smile.  I'm thankful and happy she has found a new love for the vacuum cleaner - cleaned her room twice in one week!  I'm thankful and happy that our biggest worry right now is that the cable is out.

The dishes are calling and the laundry is waiting to be folded.  I also must go take a Facebook quiz to find out what my Old Person Name should be.  Life goes on. 

A Question of Faith

I was born a "Believer".  Sure my parents taught me,  molded me and took me to church but I'm pretty sure there has not been one day in my life where I was not absolutely positive I am a creation of the Almighty God.  Even as a teenager, in the midst of teen drama and heartache, God was always there with me.  Even as an adult when my first marriage failed and I was left a single mother, not quite sure what my next step would be, God was with me.  Even in 2007 when my husband was transferred to St. Louis (the girls were 9 and 2), I was battling thyroid disease, our church was falling apart, and the housing market was crashing, God was right there with me.  I never had a doubt. 

Imagine my surprise then when my 16 year old told me she has decided there might not be a God.  I was shocked.  I responded exactly as all the blogs and experts tell you not to.  "Don't Panic", they say.  I wondered what went wrong.... should I have made her go to church more regularly?  Should I have insisted on Youth Group even though she felt uncomfortable there?  How did I fail her as a parent, especially in the one category I tried so hard to make sure I mastered.  I fussed rather loudly, I questioned, and yes, made her feel terrible for trusting me enough to tell me.  It was a knee jerk reaction and one for which I am so deeply sorry. 

This kid of mine is so fascinating.  Her brain is filled with things I've never thought about.  She is a deep thinker and can argue anyone about anything she feels strongly about.  I on the other hand hate to argue for any reason, especially with her... she makes very valid points that are difficult to dispute with anything besides "because I'm the Mom, that's why!".  She is strong and sensitive at the same time.  She is a lover of music and animals.  She will love fiercely the people who love her but is guarded with her heart.  You are lucky to be in her circle for it is small and tight.  She is a dreamer and a realist.  She is my heart outside of my body.  That being said, I realize she is NOT me.  She has always lived to the beat of her own drum.  My daughter is one of the most independent, "high spirited", ok, strong willed, passionate people I have ever met.  She knows what she wants out of life and I truly believe nothing will stop her from achieving every goal she sets for herself.

Ironically, she is also my Miracle.  She is one of the things in life that solidified my belief in God.  You see, we tried for 2 1/2 years to have a baby.  Back then they weren't so quick to offer fertility treatments but that was our next step.  However in late September of 1997 I found out that I was 26 weeks, 5 days pregnant.  Yes, that's almost 7 months.  10 weeks later I was holding my beautiful baby girl.  I've always thought it was God's way of saying "ok my child, you've been patient, here is your baby".  Good thing patience is one of my strong suits because I've needed it every day since then!

I've had a few days to process all of this now and I know its going to be ok.  Not everyone is born a Believer.  Not everyone who believes keeps believing.  Not everyone who questions is a Non-Believer.  My husband was in his 30's before he became a Christian.  No my dear child, I have no physical proof I can give to you that there is a God and I know that is what you seek.  I'm not sure why I don't and never have required physical proof.  I realize I'm a rare breed.  And again, you are not me.  One of the hardest parts of being a parent is letting go enough to let your child discover their own beliefs and trust that you've done a good enough job that they aren't going to turn into a delinquent.  The other times I've had to do the letting go have been easier... stuff like letting you learn not to turn on your cell phone during school or letting you struggle in a relationship without butting in too much.  This one is hard for me and I hope you can respect that.  But I'm trying.  What I do want to say is keep asking questions.  Keep reading books and blogs, listening to friends, teachers, adults you trust.   Keep digging and exploring different faiths and beliefs.   You have a whole long life ahead of you and I trust that you will discover whatever it is your heart is supposed to discover.  I believe God has a plan for your life.  I will never stop praying for you.  I believe you are my living, breathing, feisty Miracle.   Even if you don't believe that right now or ever, I hope you will believe that your parents will ALWAYS believe in you!   We will always be here to talk, to listen, to hug, to console, to laugh with, to support you.  We will always love you UNCONDITIONALLY with arms wide open.  And one day, if you decide God might really be there after all, you'll see that His arms are wide open too. 

Nine

Nine years gone in a flash.  Nine years worth of hugs and smiles and giggles and imagination and words beyond her years.  Nine years of this piece of my heart walking around outside of my body.  Nine years full of an unimaginable amount of love.  Happy Birthday my girl! Love you high as the sky!!

Sweet 16

What a whirlwind!  How can you be 16?  We just spent last night in the rocking chair singing lullabies, didn't we???  What a beautiful, spunky, smart, silly young lady you have become!  I couldn't be prouder to be your Mama.  I love you high as the sky Always!

Sticks and Stones may Break my Bones....

Gracie got to wear orange to school today for their campaign to stop bullying. Her shirt had happy faces and peace signs on it and she said they were symbols to remind everyone to be peaceful so that the school could be a happy place. I love the way that kid's mind works.

Kids can be mean. All kids. I think they don't know what kind of hurt their words can bring to another person. Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me? BS! I grew up with a name that rhymes with Wetsy. I had coke bottle glasses from third grade til my sophomore year. I was horrible at group sports in gym and was always that last kid picked. Typical kid stuff, right? Have you ever seen me wear my glasses in public (even though I have really cute frames now)? There was a kid who signed my yearbook in 6th or 7th grade - "To a girl with thick glasses who bruises easily". I know he thought he was being funny but I've never forgotten his words or who wrote them. There was a girl I graduated with who spread a horrible rumor about my brother and I've never forgotten her either although I smiled and made pleasant conversation with her at our reunion. There was a kid at our bus stop who was the neighborhood bully. Saw her at the reunion too and she is a wonderful person now but that reputation never leaves you. I married a man who used words against me every day (no, NOT Don) - 15 years of my life... wouldn't wish it on anyone. Those incidents left scars. I'm sure you have scars of your own. We've all said things to people that were mean. I'm sure no one is completely innocent. I'm not sure anyone comes out unscathed.

Two great ways to teach your kids about how words hurt... crumple up a piece of paper and then tell them to straighten it back out. You can do the same with emptying a tube of toothpaste onto a paper plate and telling them to put it back in the tube. You can't straighten the paper out. The wrinkles are permanent as are the words you have said to someone. Its as impossible to put the toothpaste back in the tube as it is to take your words back.

Bullying is nothing new. Yes, there are new tools including the horrible things that happen on social media but kids have been mean to each other from the beginning of time. I'm glad the school is having an awareness day. However, it is up to us as adults and parents to teach the basics at home. Kindness matters. The Golden Rule is still Golden. Treat others the way you want to be treated. Period. At school, at the grocery store, at work, and by all means in your own home. We can lecture til we are blue in the face but kids learn by example. I'm not saying its easy. I'm just saying its possible. We can make the world a better place... one word at a time.

I have always taken my relationships to heart.  Be careful deciding to be my friend because once that connection is made, I'm all in.  This gets me in trouble sometimes but I don't regret it.  I'm not good at dealing with the ebb and flow of friendships and today is one of those days it has me down but I don't write this for pity.  I write so I can process thoughts and get them out of my head even if I can't make sense of them.  Nothing specific happened today to make me go down this road.  I work in a business that is all about relationships.  They intrigue me and sometimes I find myself analyzing how it all works.  People meet, they find a common denominator and strike up a conversation.  Sometimes those words turn into a true relationship and sometimes they are just a blip on the radar of passing strangers.  Its the true relationships that I struggle with.  Like I said, once I get to that point, I'm all in.  I have found that I am not the norm.  I often find myself chasing friendships and trying to save something that just isn't going to be saved in the end.  The most frustrating part is when a relationship wanes for no apparent reason.  I don't know when to give up... when to cut ties.  Maybe there are reasons but no one ever tells me because they don't want to hurt my feelings?  Walking away from the friendship with no answers is worse.  At least I could reconcile the feelings if I knew what happened.  Its funny because there are a couple of relationships I've had in the past that have rekindled and I was finally able to ask those questions and get the answers that have settled my heart.  Its hard to be a Tenderhearted Bear but its who I am.  I'm not ashamed of that.  I just wish I felt more understood sometimes.  And there are the rambly thoughts of my brain tonight.  I think I usually make more sense but tonight I just needed a clean canvas to spit up on.  Blech. 

Up Up and Away

This past weekend my mom and sister and I traveled to Tunica, MS for the 2nd Annual Hot Air Balloon Festival.   It was a fun girls' weekend filled with jackpots (Mom's),  room service (all of us) and even some shopping deals (mostly mine).   My sister has had a pretty tough two years and I think it was good for her to get away from routines and just relax for a couple of days.  I know it did me a world of good just to hang out with her.  It always does.  (My girls are the same number of years apart as my sis and me and I always tell my youngest, "just wait, one day you will catch up to her and ya'll will have tons in common".  I speak from experience. )

Mom has wanted to fly for as long as I can remember. She has always loved hot air balloons and when the opportunity came, she knew she had to grab it.  The casino sent a limo to take us to the take-off point and that alone was fun.  There was a glitch in the plans when we found out none of the balloons would have room for us but after some graveling, a couple of pilots decided to take on the task.  It was so fun to see Mom's excitement and watch her cross this off of her bucket list.  The pilot was an exceptionally nice guy from Little Rock, AR who owns Balloon LR.  His name was David Hoover and both my mom and sister said he immediately put them at ease.  I stayed on the ground, not because I was scared or anything but because there simply wasn't room for me.  (Ok, maybe a little bit scared).  I was the official photographer but had no idea we would be chasing the balloon from a limousine so although I got wonderful take-off video and photos, there are zilch of the landing or celebration there after.  In my defense there were other people in the limo with us and I couldn't gracefully excuse myself.  They had all three doors blocked.  Anyway, without further ado I'll let the photography speak for itself.

Yes I wish I had gone too.  Maybe next year.  Maybe not.  I have a lot of other things on my bucket list that would trump this but I have definitely been convinced to at least pencil it in at the bottom.  Maybe even erasable ink.  Maybe.