Advice

The best advice that I ever received was from my mother almost 40 years ago.  I have heeded that little piece of advice all these years and have never wavered from it--not once.  I trusted her wholeheartedly--after all she is my mom.

This is what she said to me--after you get married and you have your first argument with your new husband, don't tell me about it.  It isn't any of my business.  Work it out between you.  Why?  Because you love him and you will forgive him.  But, I'm not in love with him and if he hurts you I won't forgive him.  You will get over it and have moved on all lovey dovey and I'll still be mad at him.  I'll get mad and stay mad.  So, don't tell me about it, work it out.  


And I never did tell her and I always worked it out.  I kept our little and big tiffs away from her.  I wanted her to grow to love my husband like a son and not harbor ill feelings against him.  But believe me when I say this--it wasn't easy for me.  Sometimes I just wanted someone on my side.  And sometimes I just wanted to vent, or to have someone justify my opinion.  But, I would hear that little voice inside my head--don't tell me about it.  And so I didn't.


I get it now.  After the few years of marriage I began to understand her reasoning and after my own children grew up and got married I completely understood it.  I get it.  It's so clear to me now.

Another aspect to this same line of thinking is this--when I get upset with my mom, dad, sister, husband, or children and I talk to a friend about it I just want them to listen so that I can vent.  I don't want nor do I need their advice or for them to fix my problem--I just need them to listen.  Because believe me no matter how mad I am, if you say one bad thing about them kaboom!  You will get caught in the fallout.  No one has my permission to talk badly about the people I love, no matter what!  Crazy huh?  What a distorted way of looking at things.  And yet, that's exactly how I feel.  I can say it, but you can't.  I can rant and rave and go on and on about all the things that are bothering me about this person or that person--but you can't.

The only way that I can rationalize any of these strange feelings is that they are born of love for my family.  A protective love.  One that is most likely innate.   One that means be careful--you are crossing the line, getting too close, saying too much--be careful.  It's a warning--don't mess with mine.  Sometimes I think of it as the momma bear syndrome.  You get too close, you get swiped at with my great big ol' momma bear paw.

So, I bet that's what my mother's advice was all those years ago.  If I, in my naive young married life was to expose her to anyone who might be getting close enough to hurt me--well then, she might just have to come out of her momma bear cave and smack them.  And that would have created a whole new set of problems.

Moms are smart that way.  Giving out great advice and then backing off.  I'm really glad mine did and I hope I have treated my children the same way.   I hope they feel protected, loved, respected and safe.

Even In the Night

I woke up in the night
with tears on my pillow
I got out of bed
to sit in my chair and rock
and pray

I cried for those who no longer
walked with you
who no longer followed you
who no longer made you first

I sat for hours
praying
asking questions
asking you
to somehow use me
to draw them back to you

My heart broke
I could not stop
I wondered why
they had walked away

I cried out to you
use me to rescue them
use me to pray
to listen

Even in the night
I will serve you
even in the night
use me to pray

Heal them
their hearts are breaking
see their tears
hear their cries
they cry out for you

Wake me up
use my tears
humble me
Oh God
even in the night

As I sit in my chair
even in the night

Dawn

3 teenagers, 6 days, 5 nights

They've just left--my friends from Belgium.  I met them via my husband.  I was on a business trip in Europe when I first met the husband and later in the states I met his wife.  There were several of us wives in San Diego that year.  We had a blast.  We shopped all day while the guys worked and then in the evenings we would all go out to dinner.  I love meeting people from other countries.  I love to hear all about their culture, their religious beliefs, their families--and with most of them, I become close friends.

Such is the case with my good friend from Belgium.  I knew from the minute I met her that we would be friends for life.  She's actually an American who moved to Europe after she met her Dutch husband.  She's lived there for over 20 years now and her children were born there.  We've gone over to Belgium on business a few times now and when we were there I was able to visit her and meet her children.

And it's them I really want to write about.  They seemed to have wormed their way into my heart--all 3 of them--half American, half Dutch, and very European.  I met them for the first time 5 years ago.  They are now all teenagers.  The girl is 14, and the 2 boys are 16 and 18.

When they first arrived last week they were all very shy, very proper, well-spoken and polite--for a few hours anyway.  But I did my best to make them feel at home.  I am after all a grandmother.  And even though I am only 10 years older than their mom, I think I came off as an older--more grandma type to them.  Only--a fun grandma who acts silly and loves to laugh.

We spent several days shopping--everything from outlets to the Magnificent Mile.  I took them wherever they wanted to go.  American brands were the hot ticket item.  They had been saving up their spending money for this vacation.  I showed them a few sights in the burbs but I think the highlight of their trip was going to downtown Chicago.  We did a little more shopping, rode the water taxis and also went to Navy Pier.

I hope that they had a good time.  I know I did.  It was a real joy to spend time with this Belgium family.  Being with teenagers brought back memories for me that had been stored away.  I loved watching them play with my dog, I loved hearing them laugh (and boy did we laugh a lot), make jokes, tease, show me youtube videos, I loved going shopping with them and hearing them exclaim over American fashion, I loved watching their excitement over free soda refills and even loved hearing them argue periodically.

Kids are kids.  It doesn't matter where they are from.  They are loving, kind, and full of hope and excitement for the future.  They like shopping, riding in convertibles and most of all they seemed to like me.  I miss them, my dog misses them.  My house seems too quiet now.  I really hope they come back soon.  Before, you know...before they grow up.

Hunger and Hope

In one of my sociology classes in college, I stumbled upon a quote by a French philosopher. I can't remember his name nor the exact quote, so I'll paraphrase it here the way my brain translated it that day in class.  He said--there is a void inside of every man that can only be filled by God.  I've never forgotten that saying and now as I sit here writing, it has come to my mind again.

I started thinking about hunger--more specifically the hunger that mankind has for God.  I think that without all of us realizing it, we do hunger for Him in some way or another.  It's a void, a hole, a deep yearning for something that is missing and until we find it or until He finds us, we seem to walk around and sometimes stumble about empty and blind.

I'm wondering now if during that time of emptiness--are we bitter towards the God whom we seek out?  It would not surprise me really, because even though I claim to have a relationship with God, and I  believe in Him with my whole heart--even I have gone through times of bitterness when things aren't going according to the way I've planned.  I have walked around feeling as though I've been deserted by my creator and I have been left to crumble and die all be myself--all alone.  I cry and wail and before too long bitterness begins to grow like a weed.  That bitterness is scary to me.  Much like a weed, it needs to be pulled as soon as possible.

And thankfully after a time I come to my senses and go before God with a little tiny spark of hope and a great big heart of remorse.  I ask Him to forgive my bitter heart, to once again fill that void and to give me hope.  I just need a little bit--maybe just the size of a mustard seed.  That small.  Maybe because I realize--that the void in my heart might have only been just that small, to begin with, but then because of my unbelief it grows almost out of control.  But when He hears my cries, He comes to my rescue and He fills my heart once again with hope--my life turns sweet.

The void disappears and His love, forgiveness and grace flood in and I forget all about the emptiness.  All I feel is Him, living in my heart once again.  His arms around me, holding me and promising me that He is my hope, my future, my sweet life.

In hunger there is bitterness, in hope there is sweetness.

1 Year

A year can make a huge difference in someone life, in my life especially.  Everything, well, almost everything has changed.  It has been a tumultuous year for me--a good year in some ways, but an intense year that's for sure.

We moved to a different state exactly 1 year ago.  I guess you could say it is our Illinois anniversary. I thought for a minute (a very short minute) that it was my first time to change states--but, no, it is my 4th, however this time I moved without my children--so that was a first for me.  Leaving my children behind was hard.  It is one thing for them to move away from me, but it's quite another for me to move away from them.  I could not make them go with us, most likely because they are married adults now with their own families.  I no longer had my special mom powers!

The 3rd time I moved and changed states my 3 children were all still living at home with us.  We decided as a family to move to Ohio, my husband was offered a promotion and after much prayer, talking and tears we did it--we moved.  To a state where everything was different--from the climate to the foods, to the people, to the lifestyles--everything.  However, we had each other and eventually we settled in and made the best of it, it being no family, nothing familiar, loneliness, etc.

Over the next several years our daughter and 2 sons married and began to start their own little families.  And after a while our house began to feel very empty, it began to feel too big, and it began to feel very lonely.  We had actually started talking about downsizing when a job opportunity for my husband came up here in Illinois.  Our soon to be new state.  So once again after much prayer, talking and tears, we moved.  Did we downsize while we had the chance?  No, we did not, not really.  I convinced my husband that I needed the space for my kids and grandkids to visit.  And I did.  I love having 3 extra bedrooms for guests, and whether it be friends or family--I've got the room.  Much to my husband's dismay--he would have been perfectly happy with a townhouse or a condominium.  Me?  No way!  I like having a bigger house than we need, I don't care if it's just the 2 of us now.  I need the extra rooms.  I think they give me hope.  The hope of a visit.  Hope that every so often they'll be filled up again if even for a little while.  Filled up with laughter, talking, and noise.  I like noise, it makes this house feel happy--happy with the anticipation of the arrival friends and family, food and fun.

Yes, just about everything has changed this year.  I no longer live near my children or grandchildren.  I live in a different house, in a different neighborhood, I have new friends, a new city, I drive a different car, I go to a different church--I have a new type of life now, one with just the 2 of us, and our dog.  Our new little family learning to once again be completely dependent on God for everything--from our emotional needs to our physical needs to our spiritual needs.  We're learning it all over again this year.
We are adjusting to being a couple, we are on an adventure, and for however long it lasts we will try hard to enjoy it, appreciate it, embrace it, be thankful for it and learn from this move in the process.  I don't know how long we will live here, but I will strive to be content.

So, happy 1 year anniversary to us--in this new house, in this new city, in this new state, in this new phase of our lives.

Taking the Fall

Several years back when my oldest granddaughter was 5 weeks old my daughter and her family came for a visit.  It was close to my birthday, the weather was great and I was so excited to have them in our home.  We had all types of things planned--the zoo, bar-b-ques, golfing, laughing, storytelling, all kinds of fun was in the works.  And so one day the guys--my husband, son-in-law, and both of my sons went golfing.  I remember how pretty it was that day.  Not too hot for the summer, no rain, very little humidity, a seemingly perfect day.

I don't remember exactly what my daughter and I had decided to do that day.  I don't know if we had gone shopping and were now home for the day or if we had just decided to stay home.  Anyway, she was in my kitchen, I think she was going to put something together for dinner.  I was holding my tiny little granddaughter and came walking into the kitchen when it happened.  As I walked into the little butler's pantry turned breakfast nook I stepped down--into the infant seat with my right foot.  Well, it slid out from under me, and we went flying.  I started to slide across the tile floor and instinctively wrapped my body around that baby.  My feet went one way, my head the other--and as I was falling, my head and then my back slammed against the door jam and down I went.  I rolled into a fetal position with my arms wrapped protectively around my little 5-week old baby granddaughter.  I could hear my daughter screaming--are you Ok?  Are you OK?  And all I could say was--take the baby, take the baby.

I knew that she was OK, I had protected her.  And I knew that I wasn't OK, but I didn't want my daughter to know that.  So I said--just let me lay here for a minute.  I laid there on my side with my head cupped in my hands in excruciating pain.  She wanted to call an ambulance, and she wanted to call her dad, but I kept saying--no, I'm OK, just give me a minute.  After several long minutes, I was able to sit up and get my bearings.  I assured her I was fine, but I think she had already called her dad.  I think I remember the guys coming home early to make sure that I was OK.  I never went to the doctor, but what I saw later that evening while getting ready for bed made me gasp out loud.  I was bruised in several places.  On the back of my right arm was a jet black bruise that went from right below my shoulder all the way to my elbow--a good 4 x 8 inches.  I looked on the lower left side of my back and there was another bruise about the size of a grapefruit.  I also had a huge knot on my head.  It took months for those bruises to finally disappear.

So what brought about this memory today?  I was thinking about God's protection and then remembered what happened that day just a few years ago and how He protected my granddaughter. She'll be 6 years old this month.  She's the spitting image of her mother--in looks and in personality.  She is an absolute joy--I love watching her little expressions and listening to her funny stories.  She is hilarious.

And my God--the God that I love and serve--protected her.  I am so thankful for that.  It brings tears to my eyes when I think of how much worse that day could have been.  And yet, because of His protection--she's just fine.  She'll never remember that day, she'll never remember her grandma taking the fall, and that's OK with me.  Just as long as she knows about Jesus--taking the fall for her--every day.

Sadness

I have not written in a few days due to a deep sadness.  I am experiencing an overwhelming feeling of depression right now.  Normally I would not admit to something like this.  I definitely would not write about it.  I would worry that it would affect someone's perspective of me because it goes against my usually happy optimistic nature.  But guess what?  I am down right sad.

I know that it is a normal emotion brought about by normal circumstances.  Most of the time I can get a handle on it and it is usually over rather quickly, but I am having a harder time with this bout.  I do not like it.  This feeling of sadness.  I do not like it at all.

I have been suffering with it since last week.  My youngest son, his wife and their new little baby were coming for a visit.  I was really excited.  Cleaning, buying food, making plans--and then the day before they were due to arrive I got sad.  I thought this thought--they are coming tomorrow, but they are leaving Monday to go home.  When will I see them again?  And the sadness over that simple thought has not left me yet.  That was a week ago.  I wonder--when will I wake up and feel truly happy again?  When will my spark return?


It is not as if I am doing anything different though.  I am maintaining my current lifestyle.  I am getting up, getting ready, running errands, doing the daily things I always do--only I am doing them with a heavy heart.  However, I am not beating myself up over this.  I am dealing with it.  I am taking it out, looking at it, praying about it and analyzing it.  I want to learn something.

The bottom line is--I am missing my family.  They live too far away and there is not a thing I can do about it.  I do not want them to stop visiting just because I go through this emotional trauma every time I see them.   In fact, I would love for them to visit more often.  And I would love to visit them more often.  But sometimes I worry because I always cry when they leave or when I leave and I hope that it does not make them too uncomfortable.  But, it just breaks my heart to be torn away from them.  I wish I had a tougher heart.  That's the problem, I'm a softy.  I love my kids so much and then there are the grandchildren.  I wish I had been warned--danger, grandchildren coming in the future.  When they leave it'll feel like your heart is being ripped out.  But, would the warning have stopped me from ever having kids?  No, probably not.

The love that you feel for your family is unexplainable, and so is the pain, and the sadness when they leave.  I guess you have to be a mom or a grandmother or have your children live far away to understand.  I have no family here and it is hard.  I have more compassion now though for those without family members close by.  I think we need to take care of each other.  We need to lean on each other more.  Maybe we need to make little micro families with our friends and neighbors.  Surely I cannot be the only mom to feel this way.

So, I have analyzed this depression and I am hoping that within a few days I am OK again.  I will pray that the fog lifts.  I think it will as soon as I make some new plans to visit my family.  And then, the entire process will begin again.

And now I wonder--is this how God feels when we leave Him?