A Christmas Wish

A Christmas Wish

 

It’s that time of year again. The leaves change color, then they fall; the warm air turns cooler,  then turns cold. It’s the season of thanks, of giving, of family.

 

The holiday season felt and meant something very different to me when I was younger, than it does to me now. When I was a child, it seemed like the family gatherings were much larger. The whole family came together, everyone made the effort to celebrate as a family. Over the years as our world and society changed, grew, and evolved, our efforts dissolved.

 

We’ve all heard the reasons, the excuses. We’ve all given them. We grow up, start our own families, our own lives. We become husbands and wives, mothers and fathers. We struggle to juggle our family, work, life, and responsibilities. There never seems to be enough hours in the day to do everything that needs to be done. So trying to find the time to spend with family, is never an easy thing to do. We all know that, we all understand it.

 

But, this time of year I find myself questioning just how hard it really is. When a family member mentions a possible gathering, a hopeful visit, or a desire to see me, my kids; I often give those same worn and tired reasons as to why I can’t. I often give those excuses with genuine intentions, completely certain that they are the truth.

 

Christmas is a time when families– no matter how close, or how distant they are– come together. From the wish lists, to the gift buying, to the planning of the family’s Christmas celebration, the holiday brings us together. It is in this time, during this holiday, that somehow, my mind finds the time to think about things; I’m able to see things differently. All those excuses that I’ve given my family, and myself, as to why I don’t spend more time with them, suddenly seem so weak. And it makes me realize that I’m not being fair to either one of us.

 

Thinking about those excuses, I can’t help but feel guilty. Remembering all the times I’d felt sad about the separation of family, of the dwindling involvement, makes me realize my own failure. Because I, too, am guilty. The majority of my family, live little more than thirty minutes from me; the rest, less than five. And I might see them a couple of times a month, if that much. It is easy for me to say that it’s because I’m busy, because I work almost every day, take care of the responsibilities of my home, my husband, and my children. It’s even easy for me to believe it when I say it.

 

But it isn’t an excuse, when it comes down to it, there is no excuse. That television show I want to watch every evening lasts an hour, that book I’m eager to read is so good that I end up reading it for two hours. That story idea I have is so enthralling that I spend three hours writing the outline, so I don’t forget a thing. Those thirty minute workouts everyday, total nearly four hours a week. All those hours, doing all those insignificant, unimportant things, are hours that I’ve spent all year convincing myself and those I love most in the world, that I did not have. That I could not spare, not even for them.

 

At the end of the day, nothing is more important than family. And with the fast-paced world we live in, along with all the distractions, technology, and social networking offers us, it is so easy to forget just how important they are. It’s easy to mistake our interaction with them on social media, as family time. But what happens when we suddenly lose one of them? We are left to live with the guilt that the majority of what we knew about them, their lives lately, we learned from their social media posts.

 

Family is what we make it. It doesn’t have to be perfect, it doesn’t have to be filled with people that shine, people that give it value. We just have to remember that there is nothing in this world more valuable than love. And no one, no one in this world, will ever love and accept us, like our family does. And we shouldn’t wait until we need them, to be thankful for them.

 

If I had one Christmas wish, it would be that we could slow down long enough, to be the kind of families that we used to be. That we could find the time, use those hours, the ones we think and say we don’t have, to spend and strengthen our family. For us not to wait until Christmas, until you open those gifts from them, to be thankful for them. Once they’re gone, they are gone.

 

I know exactly what it’s like to lose someone that I love, someone that meant the world to me. I know what it’s like to live with the pain, the guilt, every single minute, of every single day, that I didn’t put them first, didn’t take the time to make them a bigger part of my life. I know how all-consuming the regret is. So I have no excuse at all for not making the family members that I still have, a more important, more significant, part of my life. My question to you is: do you?

 

If not, I can promise that someday, you will. Don’t wait until it’s too late to love and appreciate your family.

 

The Empty Desk

With all the hustle and bustle of the last few weeks with school starting back, it’s easy to forget what isn’t directly impacting our own lives. But there’s one thing I’d like us to remember.

For the last 17 years, my life has been all about my children, my children’s lives. I wish that I could tell you that I cherished every minute of my children’s childhood. That I made the most of every second that I was given. That I hugged them, kissed them, and loved them every chance I got. That I tried my hardest to be the best person I could possibly be for them.

That I showed them, rather than told them, what kind of person they should be, and what kind of person they could be. I wish I could tell you that I was never selfish, that I always put them, their needs, wants and desires ahead of my own. That I protected their curious, innocent, fragile eyes from things that would scare them, hurt them, haunt them, scar them or blind them. That I took a scary, cruel, sometimes ugly world and painted it for them with all things safe, sweet and beautiful, until I was sure they were strong enough to see it for what it is.

I wish I could tell you that I have no regrets, that I wouldn’t change a thing. That I wouldn’t want anything any other way. That I didn’t take one second, didn’t take one single thing, for granted. I wish I could tell you that I know in my heart that I did my job and that my job was done to the best of my ability.

But I can’t.

What I can tell you is that I did the best that I could, with what I had, and who I was, at the time. I don’t think any parent can look back and say with certainty that they have no regrets. I know I can’t. I’ve made more mistakes than anything else over the years.

But this past summer has taught me something; it’s not supposed to be about perfection. In the end, it’s not about the credit we earn or the failures we’ve made. It’s about the blessing of being a parent.

And as we settle into our routines and before we start complaining about the insignificant things that annoy us — the policies and choices of the school, the teachers and the government that we may not agree with — I’d like to remind everyone to remember those parents in our community who lost their child this summer, to remember the students who would have occupied those now-empty desks.

To remember them every time we feel sorry for ourselves, every time we feel irritated, stressed or angry. Because those parents would trade and give up anything to be in our shoes. Those lost student’s would give anything to be in those now-empty desks.

In the end, it’s about making the best of every minute we have left, and learning that the one’s in which have passed, are in the past. It’s what we do to make certain the next one won’t be wasted, that we should worry about instead.

**Photo courtesy of Gary Hanner @ The St. Clair Times**

Time for us Moms to let go

Yesterday was my son’s last day of his junior year in high school. This summer will be one of the hardest of my life, as I prepare for his last first day of school. I hope to use the time as sort of a buffer to the inevitable reality that he is almost an adult. That my job as his parent now is to hope that I raised him with the skills and knowledge he’ll need to survive this world on his own.

Because senior year is happening, whether I’m ready or not, and it only ends with my baby leaving. As I walk through the house, I can’t imagine a time when his bedroom will be empty, devoid of his messy, smelly clothes scattered across the floor. I know that, no matter how weak I may feel on the inside, it’s my duty to at least appear strong for him.
I must try hard not to “spread the dread.” But I think he feels the transition on the horizon. Just as he did the day I dropped him off at his first day of kindergarten. After being as close as my own shadow the first five years of his life, I thought – or maybe it was hoped – that he’d feel as empty without me as I felt without him. But it didn’t happen that way.

For the past 17 years I have been teaching him how to be ready for the day he’ll have to let go of my hand, funny that now I find that I’m the one struggling with it, not him. But I know that it’s his time now. To figure out who he is, who he wants to be.

And to the others out there going through this, you’re not alone. We moms just have to be there for one another, to remind each other no matter how far our children get from us, we will always be their mother, and that’s something no one, not even time, can take away from us.

Dear Graduate

Dear Graduate

There is change in the air, can you feel it? It lies subtle and thick above us, pressing on our shoulders and on our hearts, leaving us with a dread and a nostalgic anticipation. It’s the graduation of our seniors, the day our babies will say goodbye to high school and say hello to life. The day us parents must reluctantly give up our spot in the driver’s seat and turn it over to them.

I don’t know about you, but I’m not ready. I’ve been preparing myself for this day for seventeen years, and now that it’s here, I find myself completely unprepared. I find that, no matter how ready my child may be, no matter how prepared he thinks he is; I’m not. I’m not ready to let him go, I’m not confident that he is as ready as he thinks he is. And I find myself questioning every decision I’ve made, every lesson I taught him, and how ready he really is to face this cruel and unforgiving world.

I know that at seventeen, I thought I was. And I also know now, that I wasn’t. The one thing I remember about being that age, is that I used my ability to hear very selectively, I heard I wanted to. And even though I have spoken all the words that I want my graduate to know, I want to repeat the most important ones to him here, so should he forget later and should I be unable to remind him, he can read these words and remember:

“It is my greatest hope that you find everything you seek in your life. That you never stop making your dreams higher, stop reaching for them. I pray that you take every second that God has given you and make it the best second of your life. I pray that as you run through this fast and hurried world, that once in awhile, you stop to dance. To take a look at who and what is around you, and be thankful for it, for them.

I hope that you find that you are okay without me, even if I find that I’m not doing so good without you. I hope that you take every test you encounter in your life, and turn them into testimonies.

I want to thank you for accepting and understanding all the things about me, that I thought I had hidden from you, protected you from. All the things about me that I’m not so proud of, that I wish I could change, wish I could be. And I hope that you can always try and understand and accept those things in everyone you encounter in your new life. That you can do the same for your own. We all make mistakes; we all have faults. We are all made differently because God wanted it that way, he needed it to be that way so that he could test us, so that he can see who acts on his word, and who simply repeats his word.

I want you to know that there will come a time in your life where nothing will go your way, where you’ll feel like every door is locked and every window is closed. There will come a time when you will reach out your hand for something and find nothing. There will come a time where you just can’t seem to find your place; a time when all your hope is gone, when you feel like you can’t go on.

And I want you to always remember that you can, that you will. That as long as the good Lord let’s me, I’ll be here. I’ll be here to remind you that those times are presented to us all, to make us stronger and wiser. That if we let them teach us and not deter us, they bring us our greatest lessons. I want you to know that you will always have a place with me, that I’ll always do my best to be your hope, to push you through every challenge and chapter in your life.

And I want you to know how very proud I am of you, how much I love you. How honored I am to have been your mom, your friend. How blessed you have made my life. And how much I pray that you will always let it be me, let me be the mom you need, the friend you want, and the shoulder you desire.

Your wings are now free, so fly. Just don’t fly too far away from me.”

What the Birth of my Daughter, Taught me about the Death of my Mother

For me, this time of year is always bittersweet. Celebrating the birth of my children, the blessings that were, and will always be, my children, is all that’s sweet to me in this sour world. The bitter part for me this time of year, is the reminder that I lost my mother on the very night that my daughter was conceived. And celebrating her birthday, always comes with a shadow of sadness.

My mom had been sick for awhile, she was diagnosed with cancer in 2002. And at 5 o’clock on the morning of September 30, 2004, a knock at the door turned my world upside down. My 45 year old mother, had passed away a little after midnight. That night, God made my mom an angel in heaven, and he sent me an angel on earth.

He knew what I needed, because until the day that I lost her, I hadn’t realized how wonderful she was, or how blessed I’d been to have her as my mom. My parents divorced when I was 4 years old, and my brothers and I had stayed with our dad. My mother had a lot of issues back in those days and the memories I have of the times we were with her, are not the greatest, some left scars. Scars that, after she decided to leave us, were left to fester over time. By the time she returned, 5 years later, those scars had left behind anger, heartache, and blame.

It was a struggle from the beginning, for both of us, to try and rebuild the relationship. Throughout my teenage years, it became a routine for us; her trying to earn my trust, my love, and my forgiveness. And me, keeping her out, denying her everything she sought.

You see, I was a horrible daughter. I held on to all the bad things, bad memories, bad times; because remembering the good things, good times, hurt a lot more than the bad. If I remembered the good, it made me question myself, why I wasn’t good enough. If I could be mad, I wouldn’t have to, anger made it her fault, not mine. I can understand so much more now that I’m older, now that I’m a mom. That’s the way of the world, the way it goes. But unfortunately, I lost my mother before I could understand. Before I realized that she wasn’t supposed to be perfect, that she was human, that she made mistakes and she had her faults, but she was still my mother.

So, when I found out I was having a daughter, I was terrified. I thought for sure that a daughter would be my karma, that I’d have to pay the price for the mistakes I’d made, for the heartache and pain I’d given my mother. But, my baby girl was precious from the start. She didn’t bring the lesson I’d feared or probably deserved. She brought me, taught me, what forgiveness really is. She’s shown me what kind of relationship I could have had– should have had– with mine. I no longer have to live with anger, with blame; I live with love, forgiveness, and joy. The regret I feel may never go away, but if regret is the price I have to pay, to have this amazing bond with my daughter, then I’ll pay it every day with interest, for as long as I live.

My advice to everyone who still has their mother, is love her; thank her, respect her, and cherish her. Try and understand that she does what she does, and says what she says, because she loves you, because she wants to protect you. The world feels so much bigger, lonelier when she is no longer in it, so don’t take her for granted. Remember that she loved you first, and she’ll always love you most of all.

I thought I had to have a daughter, to understand my mother. But I had to lose my mother, to understand my daughter.

The Heartache Epidemic

The Heartache Epidemic:

There is this image in my head that randomly finds it way back in my mind. It comes and goes like the tide, but returns only when it wants to. I used to refer to it as a memory, like all other memories, it plays out for me like a movie, as I watch in nostalgic wonder. But lately, I’ve come to think of it as a taunt, as a reminder of something lost, something I couldn’t save. It’s a picture of children running through a field of corn, laughing as they pretend they are lost in a maze, having so much fun that the fear of getting caught breaking the rules, didn’t even enter their minds. In the picture of these children, there is no pain, no evil, no darkness, and no drugs to tempt them. Just joy, just laughter, just love.

That memory, that taunting thought, used to be seldom, it used to come to me only in conversations of the past. In times of memory travel with those who shared it with me. As the years passed, and those children became more distant; it began to visit my thoughts more often. Those happy, carefree kids, who ran through that cornfield, having the time of their lives, were fearless of punishment and consequence, because they knew they would not face them alone, they knew they had each other. For that moment in their young, innocent lives, knowing that was all that mattered.

But not all of them would make it out of adolescence– out of that crucial time in every person’s life, where the choices you make, and the paths you take, determine the strength of the foundation for which your future stands upon — without forgetting how much that feeling meant to them.

I often wonder what memory it is that others have, that one memory that won’t go away, that comes and goes as it pleases. Does it make them happy? Sad? Do they welcome it when it shows up, uninvited and unexpected? Or do they feel ashamed when it comes, as I do? Ashamed that they would someday fail someone in that memory, someone they loved so much, held so close? There are days where it seems like I’m the only one who feels that way. That I’m the only one who is forced to love someone who no longer loves themselves. And then there are days when I feel like such a failure, when the guilt of my weakness is so strong that the only thing that gets me through the day, is to convince myself that this nightmare is just a dream. It’s easy to judge the situation, the people trapped inside that situation, when you don’t understand it. When you are one of the lucky ones, who have never had to watch someone you know, someone you love, slowly become someone you don’t. To watch them reach for the thing that is killing them.

There is an epidemic in our society, one so chaotic and unpredictable that no one wants to talk about it, not even the ones who have been affected by it. Some of my earliest memories are of watching someone I love, become the next victim of an evil far more potent than any other. An evil that sinks its greedy, unforgiving claws in any and everyone it can find. An evil that calls itself drugs. It promises its victims an escape, a way to numb, to take away, all the things that they don’t want to know, to remember, to feel. But in reality, that escape is really just a prison. That numbness, it’s really just a cover. Once the victims find themselves a prisoner of that prison, it is too late. The evil has already convinced them that they can’t live without it, that the outside world doesn’t want them, doesn’t need them. The weakness that had brought them to the doorstep of that prison, was the only thing that evil needed to invite them in.

If you have never had to look at someone you love, through the bars of a cell inside of that prison, you should hit your knee’s right now, and pray. You should thank the Lord for the blessing, because you don’t know heartache until you find yourself a victim of drugs, simply because you love a victim of drugs. You don’t know what failure feels like, until you realize that you weren’t strong enough, that your love wasn’t good enough, to save someone you would have given your life to save. Until the day you realize that the person who had always protected you, always made you feel safe, needed you to protect them, to make them feel safe, and you couldn’t do it. When the time came for you to save them, you failed. It has taken me a long time to come to terms with that failure, with all the heartache that has come with it.

I do have days where I can see things for what they are. Where I can step back and not feel so personally about things, not feel so important that I make everything about me. Because, that is the reason I feel that guilt, that shame. I don’t believe I will ever know the answers to the questions I’ve sought, I don’t think I will ever truly understand everything I’ve tried so hard to understand. I don’t know if I’m even suppose to, if any of us are supposed to. But I do believe there comes a time, when the only thing those of us that are in this situation can do, is forgive ourselves for all the things we couldn’t do. And for us to realize that it isn’t about us, that it isn’t our fault. I know how it feels to stand on that shoreline, helpless, and hopeless as you watch someone you love, drift farther and farther out to sea, knowing you cannot save them. But I don’t know how it feels to be the person who is adrift, to be the one who must feel like the vastness of the unknown is better than safeness of known. We just have to learn that the journey they are on, is not our journey.

The best thing we can do, is stand on that shore and hope that someday they will drift back to us. And to pray that they know that just because they can no longer see us there, it doesn’t mean we walked away. It just means that they drifted too far away from us, in an ocean that we cannot swim in.

If you are someone who understands, if you are someone that’s had to stand on that shore, someone who has that memory of the one you love, the one you cannot save; hold onto it as hard as you can, even if it is taunting, because sometimes in life, it’s all we have.

Divided we Stand, United we Fall

Divided we Stand, United we Fall

 There was a time when Americans, Democrat, Republican, or otherwise, were more than anything else, just proud to be an American. It didn’t matter who the President was, or what political party he belonged to. The enemy didn’t live inside these borders, they lived in other nations, other monarchs, but not among the people of the United States of America. There were fools, and there were debates, but at the end of the day, they were all proud Americans. There was an understanding then, an acceptance, a certain respect, that the world lacks today. Every year that passed after those times, we lost a little understanding, a little respect; we lost a little of our morals, our values, and our American pride. The political parties of our great country, seemed to have lost more than the rest of us. The loyalties for their parties, seemed to turn to treachery towards the opposing parties. The position created control, which in turn, created power.

 

 After those kind of seeds are planted, it is next to impossible to get rid of them. I am not an omniscient wise person, I’m no expert on what’s happening in our political world. It has gotten to the point where I cannot spend more than five minutes watching, reading, or listening to political news and debates. There is no understanding, no admission to fact, to responsibility, to right and wrong. There is no respect, everyone talking over everyone else, so convinced that they know more than the other, that they can’t wait until the other has stated his opinion to give the only one they believe matters: their own. To me, it’s too full of hate, too degrading and disrespectful. My family has always been Republican, but I was never made to believe I had to be one or the other. I don’t recall ever having heard my parents bash, disrespect, or disdain any member, of any party, in front of their children. They  wanted us to have a choice, to someday have our own opinion, form our own assumptions.

 As I got older, I started to see a pattern. It didn’t matter who the man was that was running for president, where he came from, what he believed, or what morals he had. All that mattered was what party he was running for. Good, bad, decent, deceitful, it didn’t matter. The thing that really disturbed me, was that I never heard any member, of any party, say one good or positive word about any member, in any other party, but their own. I am 37 years old, and I still don’t know what party I want to support. I’ve been waiting all these years for one side or the other, to show me any amount of class, any amount of understanding, of morals. I do not vote for a candidate because of the party he represents, I vote for whom I feel is the better of the two, who I feel is better for the job. I vote for the man, not the party. It truly breaks my heart that the commercials of the political candidates who are running for office, are no longer about themselves. They aren’t about letting us get to know them better, or about what they plan to do to better the country. They are about accusations and insults about the person running against them. It saddens me that this is what we are teaching our children.

 The Pledge of Allegiance says that we, Americans, pledge our allegiance to the United States of America. We pledge our loyalty and commitment to our republic. A synonym for the word allegiance is the word homage, which means a special honor or respect shown publicly. There are those out there, that continue to honor that pledge, but they are few and far between these days. The political system feels like nothing more than a race for power and domination. It’s not about the person anymore, it’s about proving that one is better than the other. I don’t know when we went from being “one nation under God” to being a split nation under distress. I’m not sure when we stopped being on each other’s side, and started being against each other. All because we want to be able to say that one side knows all, one side thinks that they are right, and everyone else is wrong. I yearn to be one nation again, to live for what is right, not what benefits and solidifies our own beliefs. I yearn for understanding, acceptance, and respect. And I yearn for love above all else, and for hate to become the rarity, not the standard.

 It was once ‘United we Stand’, but if something doesn’t change, if someone doesn’t start that change, it will be United we Fall. All those years fighting, all of our ancestors and loved ones risking and losing their lives to protect this country. Only for us, us fellow Americans, to be responsible for our own destruction. Be the one to start the change.