Meredith Did You Know?

When I followed my sister (note older sister) to UVA. Okay that's a lie, I was going to do anything BUT follow my sister to UVA and I even told the Dean of Admissions that in no uncertain terms. I made a detour freshmen year, but the pull of The University was too much, and I transferred for my second year.  (A brief but important aside--my father received my call telling him I wanted to transfer and to this day has not said a word about the scholarship I scoffed at in the Dean's office....)

Back to the story.....

Even though Meredith only had 1 year left when I got there, she stayed for an extra 2 for graduate school, so we got three years together in our little bit of heaven on earth. We decided we would take a class together each semester so we could make sure we saw each other a couple of times a week and could keep up with what each was doing. (Remember this was the stone age--no cell phones or social media--thanks be to God.)

During the first semester I was there, we took History of American Catholicism. (I will confess every class we took we took pass/fail which was good because another class we took History of Virginia was taught by the same man who taught our father and he (DA Williams) made sure we knew Daddy got an A. Meredith announced to him and to the entire class we were fine because we were taking it pass/fail.) UVA is on the honor system, and we were allowed to take exams any time we wanted.

It was late in December, Meredith and I had been studying all day. Around 5 pm we said, "Let's just go get the exam and go ahead and take it so we can leave early in the morning." We trotted over to the basement in Cabell Hall, picked up the exam, set our alarms for 2 hours, took the exams and turned them in. The Grounds were dark and most students had already left for the Christmas break. As we were walking back to the Chi O house (don't tell, I wasn't supposed to be there...I wasn't a sister yet), we looked at each other and almost simultaneously said, "Let's just go now."

We packed quickly, loaded the car and hit the road. (We did not tell our parents our plan....)

That year, The Waitresses "Christmas Wrapping" was a Christmas hit--or maybe it was just a hit for the Kanto girls. Meredith's boyfriend had made us (I like to say us--let's be honest her) a mixed tape of Christmas music for our 8 hour drive home. We drove and listened to it over and over and over--no not the whole tape, that particular song with a few others thrown in occasionally. (for your listening pleasure--Wrapping Paper)

It was dark and as we drove down 29 the night sky was lit with bright stars and the Christmas lights festively hung. It was magical. We turned the volume way up and sang at the top of our lungs. I remember feeling happier than I had in months. I remember the joy of having found my place, being with my sister, and going home. I remember wishing the drive would never end (well I wished that for the first 6 1/2 hours).

Yesterday as I was driving to church the song came on and all those feelings returned. For a few moments I was back in that car and I could feel the warmth, the love, the joy and the peace I felt then. I sang at the top of my lungs again.

When I got to church I texted my sister. She sort of remembered it (God bless her, she is older than me. She did remember the speeding ticket I got--the one she told the police officer "I told her not to speed." He, for the record, was not amused.)

All day yesterday I carried that feeling of joy, unconditional love, and the magic of that car ride.

I've been thinking--I'm glad I told my sister about my memory. I'm glad she knows how much that car ride, and I hope she can translate it to how much our relationship means to me. Transferring is hard, and as much as I loved my first semester, knowing my sister had my back and was there with me was a true Christmas miracle. I don't say that lightly.

The gift of Christmas the miracle of Christmas is love--unconditional love. And I felt that in the car that night.

This Christmas give someone the gift of unconditional love, or let someone know how they have given it to you. One encounter, one relationship at a time--it matters. You never know how it will impact another.

Merry Christmas.

The Monster Under the Bed--My Planner

Before I became one of them--them, the empty nesters, I heard a lot of "what to expect" statements. I will say, people give you the "good news" without the counter bad news, but hey, when you're talking a soon to be empty nest mama off the ledge, you go with what you got.

"Your grocery bill will go down significantly" But your housing and allowance for the new college students, far exceeds that....

"You won't have to pick up shoes, books, dirty clothes (fill in the blank)" But now you can see all the dust because it's not covered by the above....

"You can have whatever you want for dinner and at whatever time you want." But you do have to learn how to cook for two--still working on that...oh, and significant other now wants to help which adds a whole other level...yes, I'm also a control freak, might as well admit everything today.

"You won't have to sit in the cold night after night at sporting events or on uncomfortable bleachers in either too hot or too cold gyms." But for us it just means we have to drive 7 hours each way to sit in the cold or on uncomfortable bleachers. Not as often as before, but we still do....and we don't get to know their friends in the same way, and we might think unpleasant things about the parents who live close enough to be at everything....

"You won't have to stay up late waiting for them to come home." But you will wake up several times through the night for other reasons, because now you are OLD!

I heard these and other statements, and I'll say it, empty nest isn't all bad. In fact, there are times we rather enjoy it. And it did help to have friends who walked this road before us to help us prepare. But no one prepared me for this....

HAVING TO FIND A NEW PLANNER!!!

I'm not kidding--this is where the tears have really fallen over the past 2 weeks....I'm just going to admit it right here. I am a planner, office supply, colored pen junkie. I LOVE searching for and finding just the right one. We could probably send another child to college with all the money I've spent over the years in my search.

And I found some really good ones that were perfect for the time. The MomAgenda, Erin Condren, Happy planner, wall calendars from Shutterfly, daytimers, and several others. They all had their place, and they worked for our busy, color coded, chaotic life.

  

In October someone stole my briefcase and in it was my planner. I'm going to be honest here, I don't remember which one that was only that it had my WHOLE life in it, and it was working. I also learned it is very hard to find a planner in October you can use immediately. So I went to a friend who is also a neurotic color coding, paper planner and asked what she was using. She gave me all the details, the exact specs of what she was using, and I bought one just like hers! (well not the cover). I used it, or tried to use it for a couple months. Here's the deal, my wonderful friend still has two children at home--two young children whose schedules she has to manage (and drive them to). I tried and tried to fill this planner up and make it work, instead it just made me sad. And as crazy as it sounds, I have spent time actually crying as I look at and try to use this planner.

So last Saturday I spent 4 1/2 hours going down the rabbit hole of youtube videos on "the best planners" and how to organize them. I kid you not, I took notes, made charts, and diligently considered all the options. And if you think that makes me seem a little cuckoo, google it yourself and check out the HUNDREDS of people who make these videos and websites. I HAVE FOUND MY PEOPLE!!!

After much searching, I have found what I think will work this year (I do have to return 2 I bought just to compare.....). I'm even going to try to use fun stickers, something I've always wanted to do, and in theory seemed like a great idea, but 4 children, a job and a husband didn't leave a lot of time for me to sit around and be creative! But that's not the important thing I  learned. I learned more about grief--a classroom I'd like to leave and never come back to. Grief that comes in many forms, the loss of a loved one, the loss of a relationship, the loss of what was, the loss.... I thought I understood it, but I realize none of us ever completely understands it.

Grief is the monster under your bed from your childhood. You "know" it's lurking there, but you don't see it. Some nights you head up to bed, have your bedtime story, say your prayers and settle in for a night of peaceful sleep. But sometimes you head up to bed, have your bedtime story, say your prayers, and out of nowhere it springs. The small nightlight you've begged for casts larger than life shadows you are sure are the fangs or claws of your monster. You can "hear" it breathing and "feel" it squirming. Grief is the under the bed monster with an insidious hold on people. You can't control it, or predict it, instead you have to endure the nights when it comes and give thanks for the ones when it doesn't. And you don't know from day to day which it will be or what may unleash its fury, for me this fall, it was a dang blasted planner that didn't work.

The other thing I know about the monster under the bed, over time it loses its power. As a child I was terrified of going upstairs or downstairs by myself, and lying in bed was often complete terror for me. (It didn't help my lovely little brother whom I adore, took great pleasure in jumping out from behind doors....) I now go months, maybe even a year, without thinking once about what is "under the bed" or what danger may lurk, but sometimes, especially when I'm alone in the house, it suddenly hits me and I am again shaking, possibly crying, and scared.

I know there are many people right now full of grief that seems to be overpowering them--many people I know and love, and many I do not. This season of holiday joy and the planning for the New Year, for many is a monster under the bed. I pray you know and can feel that you are not alone. You are loved.

And I pray there is someone who will sit with you and hold you on that bed until the monster is deeply slumbering and temporarily forgotten.

In the meantime, I am praying for and with you. It seems dark and scary right now, because it is, but I know this to be true. The light shines, even the smallest of lights, but it shines in the darkness and the darkness has not and will not overcome it. (paraphrased John 1:5).

I see you.

I Quit the I Would Never Camp

I get it. I know by being so out there on social media (and in life) I

leave myself wide open to judgement--to criticism either spoken directly to me or spoken about me (or maybe people just say it to themselves). This morning the world of me being over the top transparent and the world of me being super sensitive collided, but I learned something--or maybe was just reminded of something.

I thought back on the year I taught a parenting class. I was 24; I wasn't married; and I had no children.  I'm pretty sure I owe a lot of people a refund. The truth is, however, I'm not sure even now at 51, married with 4 just about grown children I am qualified to teach a parenting class; I certainly don't know what the "right" way to parent all children is because, well because, children are people--uniquely and wonderfully made in the image of God--uniquely. I truly believe there is no one way fits all. I also believe what may be right today may not be tomorrow, so that be consistent 100% of the time stuff doesn't really work. (Yep that was my go to about why parents were struggling with rearing children....)

But I haven't always seen it this way....

I've been, and still can be, that person. I've changed over the years. I've become a little less neurotic. My dear friend Gillian can attest to the fact, SK never left the house without her smocked dress, hair bow, and panty covers completely coordinated, ruffled socks and keds to match the outfit or saddle oxfords.. My good friend Karin can tell you not four years later we stood together as my fourth and her fifth child walked into preschool with mixed match clothes, wearing rain boots on a particularly bright and sunny day. Caroline's bow was askew, and I'm pretty sure her hair wasn't completely brushed. We were well aware we were being judged, but we didn't care--we were late to the tennis courts!

With the birth of each child I would think, "I've finally got this figured out." It usually took less than 48 hours to realize, "Nope. This new child is different than the others." I did and do, however, think a lot about parenting. I did and do think about trying my hardest to be a "good" parent. I guess I'm just not sure what that is.

I used to think I knew, and I'm realizing there's lots of people who belong to the same club. The club of "I would never."

"I would never let my child wear that in public."
"I would never let my child speak to me that way."
"I would never buy my child/let my child drive a car if he/she totaled one."
"I would never know my child was doing something wrong and ignore it."
"I would never accept mediocre grades when I knew my child wasn't trying."
"I would never let an adult child move home."
"I would never give money when I didn't know how it was being spent."
"I would never.." fill in the blank.

Looking back over the 24+ years I've been a parent I can tell you this. I have done some things I swore I would never do, and I have not done some things I swore I would do. I have let my child wear things I didn't particularly love or think were entirely appropriate; I have ignored words and tones. I have allowed one child to get away with something I came down hard on another about. Our children have totaled more cars than I can count, and they still drive cars we are funding. I have yelled, cried, coddled, begged, bribed, over compensated, under compensated, ignored, and helicoptered. I have made many, many mistakes, and I have had a few wins.

And I have become sensitive....

Because here's the thing I remembered today. We have NO IDEA what goes on in someone else's family or life. We have no idea why a parent is choosing one "battle" over another. We have no idea what a child is going through, a parent is going through, a family is going through. We have no idea if someone is just trying to get through the day or even the hour.

I do know, nonetheless, what it feels like to be judged. I do know what it feels like to want to defend myself and my choices. I do know what it feels like to hurt for my child. And I do know what it feels like to believe I'm getting everything wrong.

My four children who came from the same parents and were reared in the same home, are so incredibly different. They're different because they are uniquely made, because they are individuals, and because they are not clay to be formed by my hands. We are all the work of God's hands.

I know one other thing...

I know on most days I'm doing my best. That's what I remembered today--to give grace to others because most days we're all just doing our best. And those days when we're not? Well those days let's just love one another, forgive one another and move on.

I'm resigning from the "I Would Never Club."

I Lost Part of Me This Year

Yesterday driving home in the dark, cold, rain from an incredible Thanksgiving weekend, I leaned my head against the window and thought, "I've lost a lot this year. But what I haven't allowed myself to think about is, I've lost part of me." 

I wasn't sure what that thought was totally about, but I knew it was true. I am different today than I was a year ago; this year has changed me; this year has taken a part of me, and I can feel it deep in my bones.

Throughout the night as I woke up during a fitful sleep, the words, but more the truth of it, continued to taunt me. I am still trying to make it make total sense, but this I know.

I am not the same. There is more quiet in my heart and my mind--an introspective quiet. I want to be alone more than I ever have before. I crave solitude. I often can't find the words to express what I want to say, and I have lost some of the energy of trying to figure it out. I ache for quiet. I don't immediately find the positive in every situation, and I have lost the ardor to do so. I allow darkness to permeate for longer periods of time before I move forward. And I feel more deeply than I ever have before, and that is often painful. I would more often than not consider myself in a state of melancholy.

Last year at this time I thought I had the world by the tail. I believed all four of my children were in healthy places and were on the straight and arrow path towards adulthood. I was entering my fourth year as priest-in-charge/rector of St. Thomas and my fifth year as coordinator of youth and young adult ministries for the Diocese of Kentucky, and I believed I knew exactly what God was calling me to do and be. Chris and I were enjoying empty nest; I had just officiated at the wedding of a young couple, and I felt that powerful love in our marriage.  My extended family all seemed to be doing well, and our relationships were solid. I had amazing friends and believed this would be the year I would reconnect with many.

Last year on Advent 1 I was full of giggles and excitement. I thought I understood and was fully embracing the theme of the day. As the first candle, the candle of hope was lit by a sweet family with a small child,  I beamed and my heart was full to bursting.

Then 2019 came.

I've talked to many people about this year. I'll be honest, I have yet to talk to anyone for whom this was the best year. If you're out there, I'd love to hear it. Really I would. It just doesn't hold true for me or for most people I know.

Now a whole year later, I am looking back at the person I was then, and I know part of that person is gone, and I'm almost 100% certain it's a permanent loss.

Some may not notice. I am still pretty out there; I am still loud and "extra"; I still say and do outrageous things. But I am less sure of what the "right" things to say and do are; I am less confident I know how to relate to people. (Just an aside, I am confident and even recently for the first time in probably forever able to verbalize what I know I do well. He was as surprised as I was to hear me do it!) But I am less confident I can handle anything. But this I do know.

I can show up.

I can show up in hospital rooms and funeral homes. I can show up in rehab centers and in the woods. I can show up in phone calls and texts and letters. I can show up in grieving homes and in homes full of joy. I can show up when I am full of energy, and I can show up when doing so takes every ounce of strength I have. I can show up for old friends and new friends and people I can't categorize. I can show up for myself. I can show up even if I have nothing to say.

This morning as a family with grown children lit the candle of hope, I felt tears in my eyes threatening to coarse down my face. This year I lost part of who I was, but I am filled with hope. It is not the hope I thought I understood last year. It is not optimism or exuberance. It is a hope that strengthens me to stay connected to myself, others and God. It is a hope that says through the darkness of the world, there is light. It is a hope that has walked with me through the valley of the shadow of death, and it is a hope that knows to my very core that God was and is there. It is a quiet hope that envelopes me because I know I can't fix everything; I can't stop pain; I don't have the right words; I don't know what is to come, but I can show up.