I'm with you...

I’ve been missing my nieces lately.  They live 2000 miles away and we haven’t seen them in three years.  And despite the modern age of technology that includes cell phones, texting, Facebook and Skype, I haven’t talked to them in about two years.

The sad part is that I’m really not sure why.  

I dreamed of the day that the girls would be teenagers, and I could be the confidante aunt that listened when you had problems with friends or school, and didn’t judge you.  The aunt that sent you little gifts just because, that came at precisely the right moment that you needed to feel loved and cherished.  That we would share secrets and they might call me in the middle of the day just because. 

When CJ was small, she knew exactly what our relationship was to be.  She was helping me put on my makeup, running the brush across her face and saying, “CJ will do it!”  

When I shared this with her dad, he corrected me.  “No, she says it, ‘CJ WILL do it’.”  

“Not with me,” I giggled.  “She doesn’t have to convince me…she knows that I will let her.”

Every time we got the chance to visit them (which was not nearly enough with my brother in the military), I would take lots of pictures and then create a themed scrapbook with the pictures.  One year, I made a book in which each page began with “At Aunt Jaycie’s house…”  Another year, I recorded a piece of advice for each picture.  

The next time that we got together, they would quote the books.  I went to visit them one year, and Allie apologized when I saw the tattered book from their last visit.  

“I’m sorry, Aunt Jaycie,” she said soberly.  “It’s getting ruined!”

I couldn’t have been more excited.  They were reading them.  They were memorizing them.  They were LOVING them.

It was those shared memories that kept us close.  We could laugh together about how their grandmother, my sweet mother…is the worst poor sport in the world.  You have to keep an eye on her, one would say, and then in unison, “Because SHE CHEATS!”

We would talk about how their dad flipped out when his he couldn’t get the film out to develop photos from when he proposed to their mother.  He ended up smashing the camera and the film on the back patio in frustration.

They loved to hear about how they used to tease Uncle Chops that they were “stinkin’ up his spot.”  That once, he took away Allie’s “buh uh gum” because she wouldn’t keep it in her mouth.  He held her over the garbage can until she spit it out, and she cried for an hour.  They promised to never be teenagers and ignore their adoring young cousins, like Tux did when he turned 13 and was too cool to be seen with them.  

We remembered making Fourth of July shirts together, Tie dyeing, and working on the roof of my parents house together.  Eating crab around the island in the kitchen, and the many nights watching Pokemon when Todd and I spent a week with them when their parents were out of town.  How the storm nearly drowned us at the park before we could get back to the van.  Eating Taco Bell and watching CJ cry when her cheese got spilled.  About how JJ kept telling me that I was mean.


The cool aunt train appeared to be going the right direction.

But then the phone calls got fewer and farther between.  They were more hurried.  And soon, calls were not answered.  No return call.  

CJ was nearing those teenage years, and I had hopes that even if her parents were too busy to keep in touch with us, that she and I could keep in touch via social media or her new cell phone.  I texted her one day, sitting in Taco Bell, and reminded her about the spilled cheese.  I told her how much I missed her, how much I loved her, and how I wished that she were at Taco Bell with me.  

I never heard from her.

Bro told me later that she had mentioned that I texted her.  But she didn’t text back.

I posted on her Facebook wall.  

She never replied.

Bro says that she isn’t your average teenager, and she isn’t into texting.  

I happened to catch Bro one day, and we had just a moment to talk. JJ was there, and Bro asked him if he wanted to talk to me.  He said "No, thank you."


 

I finally quit trying to contact them, because it broke my heart to be ignored.  

No one noticed.

I heard Avril Lavigne’s “I’m with You” on the radio today.  CJ loved that song when she was little, and we found it refreshing that she heard “DAMP cold night”, instead of the lyrics “damn cold night”.  

I thought that you'd be here by now
There's nothing but the rain
No footsteps on the ground
I'm listening but there's no sound

We’re also coming up on the Fourth of July holiday – a family favorite.  It reminded me of the time that we were coming home from the beach and a tiny CJ said from the back seat, “You love us, Aunt Jaycie, and when we’re not here, you miss us!”

I smiled at her and at Allie, whose big eyes were looking at me in the rearview mirror.  

“When you’re not here, I miss you all of the time.”

Just so you know…I still do. 

Not today.

Of all of the coping mechanisms that I employ, this is perhaps the easiest and the most effective.  

I don’t know how I’ll feel tomorrow…
…tomorrow is a different day

Music has always been a big part of my life, and this song holds special significance to me.  The first time that I heard it was on the television program, “Joan of Arcadia”.  Joan, who regularly talks to God in various forms, has been diagnosed with mental illness for believing that she is talking to God.  She’s returned home from a summer camp for crazy kids, and trying to return to her previous life.  It was heartbreaking to watch her try to explain her struggles to those around her, knowing that they are judging her and watching for any sign of recurrence.  

And I wanna believe you,
When you tell me that it'll be ok,
Yeah, I try to believe you,
But I don't.

There are days when I feel like everything is out of control and I just can’t take one more ‘hit from the snake’, so to speak.  I can tell that my resources are low and that given the right trigger, I’m going to lose it.  Over the edge.   I’m not sure if it will be fits of crying, or anger at anyone who looks my direction, but it won’t be pretty.

My mind starts to wander, and it never heads into a good neighborhood.  I start listing all of the things that are wrong in my life, all of the things that I have failed at.  I start to overthink everything, and see patterns where they don’t exist.  

Everything begins to take on a sinister twist, and I’m sure that the universe is conspiring against me.  To be fair, I’m sure that the universe is simply trying to balance the scales against my failures, but it is against me, nonetheless.   

I get angry that no one seems to notice that I’m hanging by a thread.   

That’s when this song starts to play in my head.  Because even if I can’t take one more minute of today, there’s always tomorrow.  If I can just get through THIS day, things will be different.  

Gimme a little time,
Leave me alone a little while,
Maybe it's not too late,
not today

                I feel myself retreating into the darkness, but not succumbing.  I can pull back and let myself recover.  Take a breath.  I can let the darkness surround me while I hide in the shadows and look out.  Not so far that I can’t see the light, but far enough that I’m not going to get burned. 

              

                 And I wait.

And I know that I’m not ready
Maybe tomorrow

Maybe tomorrow, I’ll feel stronger.  Maybe I’ll be in control of myself and my surroundings.  Maybe someone will see my struggle and take my hand.  Maybe, the world will just be better tomorrow.  And if not, I’ve given myself the time that I need to keep it together.

Things can be so much worse if you let yourself get dragged into the darkness.  

And I wanna believe you,
When you tell me that it'll be ok,
Yeah I try to believe you,
Not today, today, today, today, today...

Tomorrow it may change

For now, I’m going to bed.  Taking a bath.  Not going to think about the walls that are closing in on me.  A good night’s sleep is never a bad thing.  Tomorrow is, after all, another day.

Is it over yet?

Is it over yet?  Can I open my eyes?

So swells the song by Kelly Clarkson, “Cry”. 

Is it over yet? 

Can I open my eyes? 

Is this as hard as it gets?

Is this what it feels like to really cry? 

A few years ago, I attended the State Wrestling Tournament.  The championship matches are intense, as they have come so far, and they are not going to give up now.  Some are seniors, their last chance at achieving greatness.  Some have had an undeafeated season, and don’t want their last and most important match to be the first that they lose.  The emotion is compelling, and it’s almost as entertaining to watch what happens off of the mat as it is to watch what happens on the mat.

Upsets are usually accompanied by jumps, flips, and sometimes even whooping.  Coaches slap one another on the back and wrestlers jump into their arms.   It’s enough to make your heart swell.  But remember, there are two competitors.  The losers show equal amounts of grief, anguish, and despair.  There are a few that behave like gentlemen and congratulate their opponent heartily, but not that many.  A few are downright angry and behave like children, hardly shaking hands with each other or the coaches.  Then, there is Starfish Man.

Starfish man was a tiny little guy, probably about a 125 pounder.  He finished his match, and with tears streaming down his face, he shook hands and walked off the mat with dignity.  And then he crumbled.  I mean, literally fell into a heap on the tarmac, just off of the mat.  He lay prostrate on the ground, pulling at the hair on both sides of his head.  His coaches bent to speak to him, but he didn’t move.   They patted him on the back, but he didn’t move.  They looked at one another and tried to lift him up, but he was dead weight.  They shrugged and just stood there by him until he composed himself and stood up.   It took quite some time for him to come to this point. 

I can identify with that.  In my depressed state of mind, I’ve always felt like I wanted to be a starfish, laying on a rock somewhere.  The water can wash over you, but it can’t move you.  You become one with your surroundings, so much so that you become…invisible.     I could just BE and let everything wash over and past me and I don’t even have to react to it.

I imagine that Starfish man felt the same way.  He was in a crowded stadium with no less than 20,000 people in it, but in that moment, he was all alone.  Face down, eyes squeezed shut, he  could imagine that no one could see him, no one could touch him.  He could let the hurt and anger and frustration just wash over him.

Being depressed becomes such a  great deal of work.  You fight to keep your head above water, you fight to maintain your dignity, you fight to keep the demons from closing in on you.  Your enemy is your own mind, and you cannot escape it.  I’ve envied starfish for so long.

Is it over yet?

Can I open my eyes?

Is this as hard as it gets?

Is this what it feels like to really cry?

The first time that I heard this song, I stopped dead in my tracks.  That’s exactly how I feel when I think that I can’t go on anymore!  When I’ve been battered by the waves for so long, and there’s no end in sight.  If I knew that daylight were just around the corner…if I knew that this was the worst of it…then I might be able to bear the unbearable.    

This past couple of days have been rough in our household.    We’ve had some standard family drama, with a bit of door slamming, raised voices, and emotional outbursts.  We’ve not had a great deal of this with the boys growing up, thankfully, but now that they are nearly grown, we’ve added girls to the mix.  Enough said?

Things were said that I’m sure that we don’t mean, not really.   In the heat of the moment, it is blurted out and then there’s no taking it back.  You can apologize, but the damage is done.  That kind of hurt takes a while to wash away.  The really difficult part is that in loving my children, in wanting the best for them, I fail.  It is the desire to make their lives perfect that exacerbates the situation and frustrates me.  Their inability to understand these actions and more importantly, their motives, often puts me in an adversarial position. 

One of my children has turned his back on me, and my heart is broken.  It might be for a day, for a week, or for years, I have no way of knowing.  Is it over yet?  Can I open my eyes?

I feel like I’m waiting for the proverbial other shoe to drop.  The fear creeps in.  The doubt.  The self-evaluation.  I should have, I could have.  I haven’t done enough.  I’ve done too much.   I begin to see so many other things that I have failed at.  My failure as a child to my parents.  My failure as a mother.  My failure as a wife, as a disciple of Christ, as a worker, as a friend, as a sister, a cousin, a .  They are all so connected, and when one thing falls, it brings the whole lot with it. 

I’ll give myself a few days to feel sorry, to worry, to feel helpless.  I might even lay down on the floor and pull my own hair.  Is this as hard as it gets?

And then…it will be time to get up off of the mat and leave the stadium.  You can’t be a starfish forever, and you can’t let the depression and cognitive dysfunction sweep you away.  What’s left?  Where do you go from there? 

I’m not sure yet.  I have no idea what the future holds for me and my child. I guess that is up to him.  It has definitely pointed out that we have some things to work on as a family.   Right now, it feels like everything is my fault, and everyone is placing the blame entirely on my shoulders.  Thanks to a great therapist, I know that is not true, and there are more personalities involved that need to share in the responsibility.  I know where I need to get to, I just don’t know how to get there. 

I have to let go with my little suckers, leave the rock, and just keep swimming. 

I will remember you...

I was a huge Amy Grant fan for years. I guess I could say that I’m no longer a rabid fan, although I still appreciate her…I was judgemental about her divorce and remarriage, and I’ve not gotten past that. My bad, I know, and I need to do so. I don’t know what really happened and I have no right to pass judgement, anyway.

So when Hubby put on one of her albums the other day, I realized that it had been quite some time since I listened to her albums. One of my favorites was “Behind the Eyes”, which happened about the time of the divorce, but was timely in my life, as well. The first song that was played on our random-play was “I will be your friend.” It’s interesting how a song can take you back, make you think…it sent me down a path that relived old memories and reevaluated my standing in the world as I washed the dishes and cooked dinner.

Here are some of the lyrics:

When every moment gets too hard
End of the road can feel so far
No matter how much time were apart
I’m always near you

Ill be the shelter in your rain
Help you find your smile again
Ill make you laugh at a broken heart
Wherever you are

cause I’m never gonna walk away
If the wall comes down someday
All alone and you feel afraid
Be there when you call my name
You can always depend on me
I believe until forever ends
I will be your friend

So many people come and go
But nothing can change the you I know
You’ll never be just a face in the crowd
And time will show
Through the seasons and years
I will always hold you dear
Never you fear

It did remind me of friends that I have had…good friends that I thought would never, ever be less than my bestest buddies. That we would stand by one another through thick and thin, side by side.

Life isn’t really like that, you know.

It also made me think of a boyfriend that I had once, who was reluctant to tell me that he loved me. He would infer it, but avoided the words for quite some time. He came from a broken home, and didn’t want to say something that he couldn’t guarantee forever. I assured him that no one expected it to be forever, but you should share your feelings when they emerged.

That was many years ago, and there was a time that we ceased to love each other in that way. We both changed and grew apart. I’m very happily married to someone else, and yet, I don’t hold any grudges against the boy who loved me once. I do remember the time that we had together, and there are good things to take from it, even though we parted at some point.

I realized as I listened to the song that he was probably right. We can’t guarantee that we will love someone forever. (children and spouses excluded, whose love we work to keep alive every day) We meet friends, we learn from them and grow with them…and sometimes away from them. Situations change in our lives, and we may not have the time or the accessibility to them, we may not have the same things in common.

I have friends that I miss because they live too far away…ones that I would continue to seek out, ones that I admire greatly…but the proximity complicates things. Thank heaven for Facebook, email, and such that allow us to remain in contact, even if it is not as close as we would like. I hope that they know how much they continue to mean to me. I’ll have to be more dedicated to expressing that. Everyone needs to know when they are valued!

There are some that I was close to at one time, but circumstances have changed. In some cases, our parting was not pleasant, or we had issues that came between us. It comes back to that email that you have all read, I’m sure, about people coming into our lives for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. They were there for a season, and no longer serve a purpose in my life. That sounds somewhat callous, but the truth is that we don’t have time or energy for all of the people that we would like to include in our daily lives.

Even if I had the energy, there are some that I would have parted from anyway. I learn and refine myself every day, and I’ve found that there are some folks that simply are not headed the way that I am going. I don’t have the resources to maintain that kind of friendship when they cannot influence me for the betterment of myself and my family. They may be fine people, but travelling with them would mean deviating from where I want to be, and that is not productive for either one of us.

My therapist talked to me about this, as I was working through my issues with lost friends. She illustrated it by saying that perhaps you have room in your life for 10 friends…so when one or two move out of our lives, we can replace them with one or two more. Adding three more would be too much, and leave us less time for the things that we already have to accomplish. Not adding any new friends would leave a hole. It’s important to know what our “number” is, so that we can adjust our lives accordingly and include the RIGHT people in them.

A more appropriate song would be another Amy Grant, from the album “Heart in Motion”:

I will be walking one day
Down a street far away
And see a face in the crowd and smile
Knowing how you made me laugh
Hearing sweet echoes of you from the past
I will remember you.

Look in my eyes while you’re near
Tell me what’s happening here
See that I don’t want to say good-bye
Our love is frozen in time
Ill be your champion and you’ll be mine
I will remember
I will remember you.

Later on
When this fire is an ember
Later on
When the nights not so tender
Given time
Though its hard to remember darlin’
I will be holding
I’ll still be holding to you
I will remember you.

So many years come and gone
And yet the memory is strong
One word we never could learn
Good-bye
True love is frozen in time
Ill be your champion and you’ll be mine
I will remember you
So please remember
I will remember you
I will remember you
I will remember you
I will remember you

I have some great memories with many different friends that have come and go in my life. I remember the boy who once loved me, the friends who promised that they would be with me forever. Rather than mourning the loss of these relationships, I can choose to REMEMBER that good, and be happy that we once had something very special. I can stop trying to hold on to everything at once, and allow myself to savor the memories while embracing the current situation of my life.

I can realize that moving forward sometimes means leaving someone behind, and that is not necessarily a tragedy. I can remember. Some folks come for a reason, some come for a season, others will be there for a lifetime…or an eternity. But it’s all good.

I'd like to think that they will remember me, too. That I won't be tossed in the pile of discarded memories that get swept out with the trash. I can think of no greater compliment than to be remembered.

Even Amy. I may not be a rabid fan, but I still cherish her music and remember the comfort and joy that it has brought to me through the years. So, Amy, I will remember you, too!

Wish. Wonder. Believe.

This is probably one of my all time favorite pics that I’ve taken! It was a beautiful, sunny morning, and I was out walking the dog. The sun was hitting the neighbor’s yard in just such a way as to light up the dew, like tiny little diamonds sprinkled across the lawn. When I moved closer to snap a picture, I realized that this single dandelion, gone to seed, stood tall and proud.

As I focused on the dandelion, I pondered on what this might mean. I saw some significance to the ‘gone to seed’ part of the photo, as I was feeling pretty seedy at that time, myself! But I was also on the verge of coming out of the dark, and I loved the sparkling points of light that blurred behind the central figure. I imagined that the lights were the cheering crowd, urging the dandelion on to it’s next life. Perhaps it was wishful thinking.

I posted the picture to our family website, and asked them to give it a title. One cousin suggested “Wish”. I hadn’t even thought of the childhood ritual of blowing on these puffs, making a wish as the precious seeds full of promise wafted away on the wind! It was such a poignant title, and hereafter, I thought of this photo as such.

Wish. Yes! Wish for peace in my soul. Wish to be where the Lord wants me to be. Wish to accept change as it comes. Wish to be what I am supposed to be. Wish to be whole again.

Just like the flower that had been both beautiful and bright, I had evolved. I had gone to seed. And it was time to let myself go, sailing in the breeze without care for where I would land, knowing that wherever it was, I would bring more beauty and life into the world. I would trust that the current of air would take me where I needed to be.

Since my return from Bro’s house, I’ve been busier than ever. Opportunities are presenting themselves like I would never have dreamed possible. The world is opening up, and I’m oddly at ease with all of this. I feel myself softly coming to rest on a variety of fields, tentatively catching hold of the fertile soil. Seeds are being sown before me.

Some will develop into beautiful, hearty plants. Some will cling to rocky places, struggling to maintain their hold. Some will blow away, perhaps coming to rest in another place. Still others will wither and die before they can even begin to grow.

And I’m all right with that.

I wished for peace, and I have found that. I know that no matter how hard the wind blows, I have anchors to hold me…and if not, I can trust in the Lord to take me where I need to be. He will guide me, sustain me, and comfort me.

I wished to be whole, and found that being whole is something entirely different than I had dreamed. Sometimes, to be whole, one has to be ready to unfold, and leave yourself open.

I’ve also learned that it helps to be standing tall like that little dandelion. You are able to scatter further and further from yourself, finding new and greener pastures. Had that little flower been lying on the ground, broken, the seeds would never have travelled on the wind.

Wish. See the wonder. And then believe!

You just might get it all.

Stop Worrying about the Sequins!

Some years back, Mom and I were working on costumes for our local Junior Miss Program. Budgets were tight, but we wanted to make a splash, so it always required some creative costuming, and this year was one of our better ones. The girls would be wearing black leggings and black t-shirts, over which different layers were added to make two very different costumes for the production number and then for Fitness.

The production number was to Debbie Gibson’s “Electric Youth”, and it was going to be stunning! To really make it glitzy, we went for sequin-embellished tops. In order to accommodate our budget we did this by gluing sequins on to mesh netting, which would be worn over their black t-shirts. A good swath…or rather, starburst…of glue was laid down, and then we used tweezers to lay out fuchsia sequins. It was tedious, but we only had about 10 of them to do, and we could laugh and visit while we made them.

Mom, however, was getting frustrated. She would lay out her sequins, and then when they dried, she would find some that fell off. She’d lay it out again, put on more glue, and put down the sequins. And of course, more would fall off when she picked it up the next time. I was finishing three to her one.

I kept trying to explain to her that individual sequins didn’t matter, it was the overall effect that we were going for. Having been in charge of costumes for years, I had learned that you didn’t have to make it picture perfect up close, so long as the end product was pleasing on stage. (Honestly, I used Saran Wrap as big wide bow belts one year!)

Still, she muttered and puttered until I finally got irritated.

“Stop worrying about the sequins, woman!” I reminded her. “Do you really think that the audience is going to notice a few dropped sequins from off of the stage?”

In truth, you couldn’t even tell that there were any sequins missing if you stood back a foot or two. You could be missing 25 or 30 sequins, for that matter, but the effect was still the same as if we had spent days sewing on each tiny little glittery speck. There was an acceptable level of loss, given the circumstances. It was a costume. It was meant to last five minutes on stage, and it didn’t have to be perfect.

She was not convinced, at first, but agreed to stop focusing on each sequin. We finally completed the tops and were ready for the big night.

Some days later, we were talking about another issue that had come up in our lives, and she had an epiphany. The ‘sequin rule’ applied in that instance, too! She had been worrying so much about a singular subject that she neglected to step back and look at the big picture. In the grand scheme of things, the problem was minor – a few dropped sequins. It didn’t ruin the pattern of her life, however, and therefore…she needed to just stop worrying about the small stuff.

From that day forth, she catches herself as she gets caught in one of those situations, and she’ll laugh and say, “I’m worrying about the sequins again, aren’t I?”

How many times have we focused on one little sequin, while losing sight of the glorious masterpiece that we are creating in our lives? Have we spent too much time on little details that will be lost in the long run? Kept ourselves from progressing because we were trying to put back every little thing that fell out of place, when it really didn’t affect our eternal salvation? What more could we achieve if we could look at our work, be satisfied with what we have accomplished, and then move on to bigger and better things? Do we really need to control everything so tightly that we cannot lift our heads to enjoy the complete work?

Tonight, I was talking with a friend about the injustices that some endure here on earth. She was trying to understand WHY. The only thing that I could say was that sometimes, we have to go through trials to learn something, or to grow in some way. But I also believe that sometimes, we suffer in order to help another to learn something. When you look at it that way, it makes these things easier to bear. If, in the end, we have helped another along the path, then our own tiny bit of suffering – for that is what it is in the eternal scheme of things – is worth it. We will have lost a single sequin, for the sake of a grand production.

Our costumes were dazzling, by the way, and the production was perfect. The tops were cast aside, never to be worn again, and not a single person commented on any missing sequins. Life is good.

My one good poem

Things are crazy right now, and I haven't had a moment to write this weekend! So I'll leave you with a poem that I wrote when I was a teenager. Prophetic, of sorts, as it describes my life as a adult, and the process of losing your humanity when others disappoint and abandon you.

"A Paper Heart of Deepest Red
Fell upon the floor...
...and bled

It's sides were ragged, ripped and torn
It's center sagging, sad and worn
And then that little paper heart
began to shred and fall apart
No one saw it's final show
No one saw it's lifeline go...

...it laid upon the cold, stone floor
for hours, days, or maybe more
'til someone came and swept it away.

That's why I have no heart today"

The reason that I recite it now is that I'm no longer that little paper heart. I'm not even shredded or ragged. I've found that you can actually CHOOSE to let go, and to move on. I have a heart...and though there are those in my past that will never be allowed to touch it again, I am open to new relationships. I'm not even angry anymore, because it just doesn't matter. I don't have to be the product of what has been dealt to me, and I don't have to take it out on the people that I meet, just because I've been hurt before.

Sure, my heart was swept up and thrown away, but I've found a new one!

Don't get your panties in a wad...

When I was a teenager, one of my cousins wrote back to me about not having written sooner…”Don’t get your panties in a wad, I’m working on it!” It cracked me up.

Tonight, I heard one better. “Don’t get your knickers in a knot; It solves nothing and makes you walk funny.”

Of course, as a teenager, I was just tickled that a Mormon relative of mine was talking about panties, to begin with, and that was enough to make me giggle all day. I could picture it, quite literally, and the idea of my panties in a wad made me right uncomfortable, I must say.

I have a broader perspective now, as time, experience and AGE seem to do to us. I know that not only is it uncomfortable to have bunchy panties, but that no one seems to know your suffering except for you. I mean, truly, think of the last time that you wore bad underwear. Drove you crazy all day long, and no one noticed, right? Except for the little dances that you did to try to get it to lay correctly, and the sidesteps into private places so that you could pull it where it needed to be?

The term “panties in a wad” or “knickers in a knot” refers to being upset or mad about something…and it’s the same scenario. Often, we feel the discomfort of being upset, but everyone else is oblivious. So who are we hurting, besides ourselves? NO ONE.

Too many times, we let ourselves get worked up over things that really don’t matter in the big picture, or are so far out of our control that we need to just accept it and move on. Today’s example is the video of President Obama swatting a fly. I cannot believe all of the airtime that it has gotten, with folks who are amazed at his cat-like reflexes, or the ones who are all up in arms because he killed a fly. It was a FLY, folks, and people swat them all of the time. Nothing amazing happened here, nothing tragic happened here. Let’s save our outrage for something really important.

I once had a friend that was upset with her father for remarrying. She didn’t like the new stepmother, and even if she had, she simply did not want to accept the situation. I kept telling her that she needed to let it go, and just learn to get along. Not for the stepmother’s sake, who really couldn’t care less about what my friend thought. But because in the long run, the only one that it hurt was my friend. She was alienated from her father, and disappointed all of the time with their relationship.

I know this first hand, as well. I apparently don’t practice what I preach! I was walking around, carrying anger and resentment as if it belonged to me. The folks that deserved it didn’t even KNOW…and wouldn’t care even if they did…so it was only making me miserable. The day that I decided that I just didn’t care anymore was like buying brand new undergarments. They were no longer constrictive or ill fitting, and I was able to walk upright for the first time in months. I feel so much better, having thrown out those nasty panties.

Which leads to another great saying, “Put on your big girl panties and deal with it.” Also some great advice.

BTW, Toddler decided that he was a comedian tonight, so he tells me, “Mom, do you want me to tell you a joke?”

When I said yes, he says, “Okay, I’ll say ‘broarkejbasdfahjkhpatriotadjjhblkjtrz’ and then you laugh.” He gets into a stand up comedian kind of pose, and then says, “broarkejbasdfahjkhpatriotadjjhblkjtrz” and stares at me.

Kid needs a laugh track.

Letting go is a major theme!

I was looking through years of photos recently, and came across the picture of these shoes. They were my favorite shoes for such a long time! They were easy to slip on and off, comfortable, and because they were white, matched everything. This is actually the second pair, as the first became so dilapidated that I had to throw them out…but not before I had found an adequate replacement.

Actually, I had to resort to extreme measures to get rid of that first pair. I just could not part with them to save my soul. They were ratty looking and a filthy that even bleach and detergent could not correct. I had worn them so much and in wet and warm temperatures, and they didn’t smell very well. But I loved them! Every time I tried to throw them away, I would immediately fish them out of the garbage for “one last wear”. I finally put them in the garbage one day and then left the house. I called my husband to make sure that he would dump the garbage and take the temptation away from me!

Eventually, this second pair met the same death. I think this time, I left them in a hotel garbage, knowing that I could not go back to get them.

First of all, I’m a cheapskate. I love a good deal, and I will make something last forever just to make sure that I get my money’s worth. I rarely own more than five pairs of shoes at one time, because I am so practical; one set of black heels, one pair of black flats, tennis shoes, one pair of light colored heels, and something that I can slip on in a hurry. With these five, I can pretty much cover any outfit that I might wear, and I just can’t bring myself to buy cute shoes for every outfit.

I’m also hesitant about change, because with change, there is the possibility that I will not be as happy with it as if I had stayed with my original option. I get attached to things and people easily, and it’s hard to break that attachment. I actually miss those shoes, even now, and it’s been years. Which is one of the thinking patterns that I need to break. I hold on to things (as previously discussed, like grudges) even when they are not good for me. My poor white shoes, for instance, that were stinky! I knew that they were stinky, and I sprayed them and washed them and all of that to try to get rid of the smell, but they were still stinky. Even so, I was comfortable in them, and I couldn’t bring myself to just throw them away. I keep clothes that don’t fit or are ugly, because I might need them someday. I keep odd things because they are sentimental or might be used in a craft project. Every so often, I have to purge my stash, just to keep my home from being overrun. I have to take full advantage of those moods, because it’s the only time that I can get rid of things and not feel bad the whole time!

I know that this is what happened in my last job. It had become something that I wasn’t benefitting from, and might even be hurting me. Yet, I could not let go because letting go was scarier than facing the facts.

I held on to the friends that I had because they were my friends. Even when it became apparent that they were not making me feel good about myself, or supporting me in the good things that I did. I held on to them because I was afraid of not having any friends. I held on too long, and it made the separation that much more painful, because I had let them hurt me before I walked away. I should have stepped back when things were still good, so that I was able to say goodbye without the anger and resentment.

I love the email that circulates that talks about friends being there for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. Sometimes, people come in to our lives for a reason. It might be fleeting, and when they have served their purpose, they move out of our orbit. Other times, they are there for quite a season before falling out. Some friends will be there for a lifetime. I just haven’t figured out how to use this in my life. I keep trying to hold folks close when they are past their time -- their expiration date, if you will! I don’t want things to change, I just want to add to my life. But that’s impossible; one cannot continue to add people to their lives and never change their roles. My counselor says that I miss them because I haven’t replaced those spots in my life, and she is right. I’m working on that. We do need to maintain a certain number of people in our lives, or we will be lonely and isolated.

This doesn’t change the importance of those people in my life at the time that they were supposed to be there. I had some wonderful times with them, I learned from them, and I value the memories that I have. I’ll keep the memories. But the old shoes have got to go!

Letting Go

The year that I graduated, we had two Mothers of the Year, as there were many admirable mothers in our class. My mother was chosen, along with the mother that lived at the other end of the district and had had an effect on an entirely different group of classmates. It was a great honor for these women, and an apt reward for the years of service to not only their own children, but to all of the others that passed within their circle of influence.

When my brother graduated, the Girl’s Club advisor was the school secretary, a young single woman who tried to be the students’ friend more than a teacher. Her intentions were good, but she was young and not quite ready to be an authority figure to teens. She sent out the ballots for Mother of the Year and instructed the Seniors to vote for the woman who had done the most for their class. Again, there were several women deserving, and it came to a tie. Rather than allow the tie to go forward, as my class had done, she asked for a re-vote. This time, instead of sending out a list of the Senior mother’s names, she just asked them to vote for the woman who had done the most for their class.

Somehow, the vote came back with her name as the top ballot winner. An older, more mature advisor would have stopped right there, thanked the students for their praise…but had them vote for specifically a Senior Mother. I can’t begin to explain why she allowed them to award it to her, but she did, and it caused quite a stir amongst the mothers in attendance.

Even if the mother did not believe herself to be the rightful winner, she knew another mother that she felt deserving of the prize. My mother was rightly disappointed, as she had felt that any number of women would have qualified, but that this woman had misused her position and taken the honor from others more deserving. It’s something that has been discussed and rehashed many times in our household, and it always ruffles Mom’s feathers.

I tell you this because I attended Tuxedo Boy’s Senior Mother’s Tea just last week. We had refreshments and tea games, and then the Seniors stood to say something to each of their mothers and present us with beautiful spring flowers. My son thanked me for putting up with his crabby moods, which was appropriate! Two of his friends thanked the group of four moms that had worked together many years ago in Scouts, and have remained dedicated to this group of boys. We cherish each one of them as our own, and have been pleased to see them grow up as friends. It was so sweet, and meant the world to me. (In Tuxedo Boy’s defense, he said that he was stressed and just forgot to thank the other mothers)

When we got home, we were talking about the Tea with my parents, and Mom asked who had received the Mother of the Year. This is a tradition that died years ago, to my knowledge, and could likely have died the year that my brother graduated, for all that I know, but was not awarded this year.

And then she said, “I was SOOOOOO mad the year that your brother graduated!”

I stopped her right there by laughing and reminding her that I’d heard the story some 10,000 times before, I agreed with her, but that it had happened TWENTY years ago and she needed to get over it.

I tell this story not to chastise my mom, who obviously had very hurt feelings over the whole thing, but to emphasize a concept that I struggle with: Letting go.

I have a tendency to hold grudges. My dad and I often joke that “we don’t get even, we keep score”. While this is pretty common in most folks, I have some things that I simply cannot let go of. They are tossed around in my head like clothes in a dryer, waiting to stick to something else that might be taken out and used. They show up at strange times and cause such a visceral reaction that it takes me off guard. Sometimes, I’m not even aware that I’ve remembered such a thing, only that I am angry about something that is happening now and I’m not sure why.

The first step to letting it go is to identify what it is in the first place. When I suddenly get angry and it has little to do with what is actually happening, I have to stop and ask myself what it reminds me of…how it makes me feel, and what else makes me feel that way. This is, incidentally, the most difficult part! We do a very good job of keeping these things from ourselves! It’s a coping mechanism, but not a solution mechanism.

I also believe that there must be some sort of resolution to things. In this illustration with the Mother’s Tea, there was no resolution. No one stepped down…not likely, anyway. No one apologized…and while you certainly wouldn’t expect the winner to apologize, I think that Mom would have liked for her son to apologize. (are you listening??!! Hee hee)

We all need to come to some sort of “end” in order to get over things, and I’m finding that most of the time, I have to find the end myself. It cannot be something that comes from others…because that usually doesn’t happen.

I’ve been working with a therapist to begin to think more effectively. I’ve had a lot of years of depressed thinking, and it’s hard to break that pattern. In this case, I have to decide what I can live with. I know that I cannot live with grudges, because they eat away at you, a little bit every day. You end up with an empty inside and it hurts no one but yourself.

I was recently feeling overwhelmed with sorrow about how people that I thought were my friends could treat me in the way that they had. My therapist pointed out that I may be misinterpreting what they had done. Maybe they stayed away from me because they didn’t know what to say…or they just got busy…or whatever reason that they had. I had to work at this way of thinking, because I know that if the roles were reversed, I would want to keep in touch with them.

And then she said something that put it all into perspective. She asked me if I still wanted to spend time with these people…did I want to be LIKE these people? The answer was clearly no, in my heart. Then, she asked, why does it matter if they still like you or not?

Good point.

My family loves me, and I still have friends … maybe not ones that I see every day, or even every week… maybe I don’t have someone calling me all of the time, but I have friends. Ones that really care, and when they do call or talk to me, they really want to know how I am. Ones that are good, truthful, with no ulterior motives. Ones that I want to be more like. I’ll surround myself with THESE people, and the people who don’t like me…well, that would be their baggage.

I’ve been blessed with a few friends who have been very caring and supportive during these times, you know who you are! Thank you…thank you. There are not words to express my appreciation for you. And for all of you who have been a good friend to anyone who is struggling. That is the measure of a true disciple of Christ, to help someone when there is no reward for doing so…except knowing that you have made a difference.

What are you holding on to that you might let go? What is really important, and what is not worth the energy that it takes to be offended? What can you decide that will help you to LET GO, and move on?

And Mom, you’ve always been Mother of the Year to me. Does that make it any better?