Growing Roots...

I've spent the past 2 years of living in our 'new' hometown growing roots.  Well at least I thought I was growing roots.  In actuality I was watching the world happen around me while expecting the roots to just latch in and grow grow grow!
  God has been placing the word "faithful" in my heart over and again.  I am great at new and shiny, aren't we all? I am fantastic at starting with gusto and great intent it's the follow through that gets muddled.  The day after day that gets boring and monotonous and life clouded and schedule cluttered that is hard.  So I am working on being faithful to the long term.
  While I was praying about my roots growing, an analogy I've used repeatedly through our times of transition, God was telling me to be faithful to the process. So here I sit waiting to see growing roots.
But wait!
Before you have roots you have to have a seed. 
And it has to be planted. 
And tended to. 
A lot.
  Roots don't just happen spontaneously, they are a process.  I had been a military spouse for so long that I was used to the chia pet version of roots.  You moved to a new duty station (or somebody else joined you at the station) and almost immediately you were developing roots.  You had so much in common it was easy. Your spouses worked for the same company, you endured much of the same stresses, you had been to places they'd been stationed or vice versa, you had friends in common through the family that was the military.  It was easy and your roots felt so strong that you didn't realize that while they were strong they were not deep.  They sustained you through the time you shared the same space.  Some people were deeper and the connection lasted beyond the place you met/shared but not most. 
Fast forward to being out and trying to find these insta-roots.  I am sure they exist in all places but it wasn't easy for me. Everything was new for us, new job, new town, new neighborhood, new church.  Nothing with the fluidity of the military.   Friendly sure, but friends? Not so much.  It's been years and I keep waiting for it to happen. And then it was a moment of clarity and a fact thunked into my heart with such a weight that it felt like God had just whispered it into my being.

PLANT A SEED! 

What? Plant a seed? But I am here Lord, isn't that planting a seed? I show up.  I smile, I nod, I laugh.  Isn't that planting?  No?  Planting requires getting dirty, making an effort.  I don't know any farmer that gets to harvest a crop that they didn't first plant and tend to.  But HOW do I plant in a forest full of trees with roots already deep.  How? What if there isn't room? What if I don't fit? "What if" is the death of roots for me.  My what if's had me standing waiting for spontaneous root growth complete with history and depth and belonging.  For years.  Then I decided to step out.  I went to a meeting (recently ya'll so this is a during post not an after) and then the next morning I went to another meeting.  Oh wait, there are not 12 step meetings for growing roots but these are 2 different places that I am involved in and am making an effort to plant seeds.  We've made friends here, don't get me wrong, great friends that we are starting to build a history with but I am still banking on chia roots. Not anymore, I am putting my what if's away and getting my hands dirty instead.  I will work on planting seeds and wait as roots develop.  I will be faithful to the process. 

Dude, growing stuff is hard yo!

Balloon Sky

Balloons signify birthdays in our house.  When you are 10 and younger you will find that number of balloons tied near the mantle during the week of your birthday.  As you grow older we use either side of the mantle to mark your birthday is balloons.  You're turning 12, that would be 1 balloon on the left and 2 balloons on the right.  We buy our balloons at the dollar tree and all but Jeremy and I turned 40 this year and ain't nobody got $$ for that!  Joshua used to love to go with me to pick out the balloons.  He would stand at the counter and agonize over the perfect choices.  Weighing the birthday persons likes vs the balloons available.  As we walked out of the store he would panic and worry that I would lose my grip on the balloons and they would be gone forever.  I assured him every time that I was holding on tightly but he still worried.  I would remind him that if one did manage to escape it could be replaced but that didn't quell his nervous chatter.  Eventually he started to walk away and get into the van as I wrangled the balloon herd into the back, it was easier for all involved. 

Yesterday was my momma's birthday.  I have such a struggle with what to do to celebrate/remember her.  I don't want it to be too much as to make it into some sort of shrine filled day but I also don't want to ignore it completely.  It's a fine line to navigate and in all fairness this is only the 3rd time I've had to figure it out.  The first year we had dinner on the deck (she had already put in her order for her birthday dinner that year, completely with the fact she wanted to eat it on the deck and what she wanted for dessert...she was crazy bossy yo!) and launched balloons that everybody had written on.  It felt good, it was a visual for the babies to be able to send birthday wishes to heaven.  Allowing them to purge and say goodbye.  We stood and watched them until we couldn't see them anymore.  The second year I honestly don't remember what we did.  We were in the new house and I'm sure that we had something that she liked to eat but we didn't launch balloons or anything as far as I can recall.  This year I wasn't even going to mention it to the schilldren.  I was simply going to let it pass quietly until both the kids came to me individually missing their Gramma the days leading up to her birthday.  In their little hearts they knew and I didn't want to ignore that.  I bought balloons and put them in my closet on Monday night after they were in bed.  I didn't really mention it to them but remembered one of them mentioning it to me.  I didn't want to let them down if they wanted to make it a tradition.  We made it through Tuesday with smiles and happy memories.  We didn't eat cake or sing happy birthday.  We had brats on the grill because it's something she would have enjoyed and left it at that. Until bedtime....

The boychild had been off all day, grumbly and short tempered.  A little more sass than usually and a little more harrumph in his attitude.  I thought he was missing his sister as she had homework after school and didn't have time to play with him.  I thought he was tired from a fun weekend and needed to get some sleep.  I thought he was contemplating contrary as a sport and was using a random Tuesday as his trial run.  Then it was bedtime and he finally settled into his room.  Since birth he's been my boomerang.  Put him down and he comes back, we toyed with calling him boomer but his nickname that was his own doing stuck instead.  He got up a few times and then I went into his room to tuck him in...again.  He looked at me with his big blue eyes shining with tears that threatened to spill over and barely got out "I miss Gramma" before his voice broke and the threat became reality.  Tears streamed down his cheeks and suddenly my big 9 year old became my little 9 year old. I realized the littleness of him and the bigness of his hurt.  We talked about happy memories, we talked about Heaven and Jesus and her faith.  We talked about how he had an entire lifetime of really great Gramma memories.  His sad breaks my heart.  He kept telling me he didn't want to cry because it made him feel bad.  His list was long:
If I cry for Gramma O'Day I feel like I'm being mean to my other Gramma because I love her too.
If I cry in front of TTSW I don't want to make her sad, it was her mom!
If I cry in front of you it will make you cry too and I don't want to make you cry Momma.
If I cry I don't know if I will be able to stop. 
If I cry it will be loud and I will wake people up, Kaity has school.

The list went on and on and I each objection he had to crying I corrected and told him why it was okay to let out the tears.  He still couldn't just let it go...he obviously didn't get as much from Frozen as the rest of us. 

I suddenly remembered my closet full of balloons.   I took his hand and led him into my bedroom, his face lit up when he saw them.  He felt like we were celebrating her birthday not just being sad that she was gone. We walked outside together holding the balloons between us, his chubby boy hand over mine to make sure I didn't lose them.  We didn't talk. At the end of the driveway he took a deep breath and I handed him 1 balloon.  We had 5.  He let it go and watched it disappear into the night sky.  The gold star balloon finding it's place among it's friends.  As soon as he couldn't follow it's path anymore he reached for another.  He released it and watched it duck and weave in the breeze.  He was mostly quiet and soft as he watched.  "Can we let the rest of them go together?"  I handed over the bundle and he reached as high as he could his arm fully extended and let go.  "I love you Gramma" and that was all it took his shoulders started to shake and the dam broke.  Gulping sobs and a broken wail that shouldn't be made by a child that young.  He cried himself to sleep.  I laid and listened and prayed. 

A year of Faithfulness

I turned 40 yesterday.  That sounds a lot more grown than I feel.  It sounds like maturity and adulthood tinged with a bit of sage advice giving ability.  It feels a whole lot like 39, which felt like 29.  I sat in church yesterday and feel like God gave me the word "Faithfulness" because I have turned from being faithful. Not in my faith but it my actions.  I am lax at reading & studying my bible, have laid my health to the side, neglected cultivating relationships beyond those easily navigated through social media.  Then I listened to a message that was about getting distracted by the nothing that fills our lives.  So much information that we get distracted by the white noise.  I thought about creating a new blog to chart my progress and then realized it was because I wanted the anonymity of a new place, which would sort of defeat the purpose of being accountable.  I don't think Faithfulness will be as easy and beautiful as it sounds.  I know it will be a struggle.  It's going to be a long year.  A year of navigating the emotions that come from being faithful.  That my friends is where the rub is.  Committing to denying the numb and welcoming the emotions that I've also not been faithful to acknowledge.  Ohhhh my stars what was I thinking?! Oh wait, I mean here we go bumpy road I'm coming for you and looking forward to seeing where I am in a year! 

13 and all grown up...

Last night as I was driving my girlchild to an appointment I asked her if she was special.  After reading/hearing a lot of chatter about the various ways we label children I wondered about her take on the whole thing.  After 13 years on this planet did she feel special? And if so, why?   :Here's her response:

Everybody is special.

me:  If everybody is special is anybody truly special? (just wanting to get her thinking)

Well, special comes in 2 ways.  You are special because you have a talent at a task, like you are good at a sport or at school.  And the second way you are special is because you have value.  Somebody puts worth or value on you so that makes you special.  The thing is we look at people to give us value or make us special or to take it away. People think they are not loved so they don't feel special or they think they are more special because they are better at something than somebody else.  We forget that the reason we have value or are special is because we are loved.  And we are ALL loved because God loves us, he loves all his children.  He loves them all the same, so while we are so busy trying to prove that we are special He already did.  If we would rest in His love then we wouldn't be so concerned about being special by anybody's standards.

me:  **crickets** (I mean come on how do you add to that??)

Inhale.  "I can't do this....It's so hard"  Exhale. "Smile and do it anyway"
I am broken.  I can do this for an hour, a day, a week, a year...but a lifetime? How do I do this for a lifetime?  An entire lifetime?
Looking at the milestones that are passing us by, marking our progress, and I feel myself growing numb.  It's a comfortable numb.  The kind that smiles and laughs but doesn't always ring true.  The kind that most people don't even notice because they are fooled by the smoke and mirrors.  It's easier....or is it?  I don't even know anymore.  I am lost in my own confusion basking in the familiarity of feeling nothing.  If I felt...if I allowed myself the luxury of processing the loss...how would I breathe? How?  Comforting myself with things that ultimately bring no comfort.  Missing the strength that my past held.  Deluding myself that I am no longer strong enough or maybe the delusion is that I am strong enough?
Every milestone we reach in joy is tinged with the sadness of being another milestone away from my momma.  It's not the firsts....it's the seconds and thirds, the forever and evers.  I don't want to change and grow and be different. I want to be the same as before. to hold on to the past in a way that makes it feel like the chasm isn't growing ever wider.  It's not depressed, though it sounds that way, it's not sad.  I don't know.  I guess that's the first step, I don't know.  How do I get to know? I need to go back to what was working.  It's been 2 years on hold....2 years waiting for the other shoe to drop.  A year of dealing with the firsts and then a year waiting to see if the seconds felt any different. Turns out they don't  It all sucks and is okay in one fell swoop.  I don't miss her more now but I also don't miss her less. I miss her differently.  She is still the one I want to call and text and talk to, the one who  want to tell me I'm doing okay. The one I want to make proud and the one who I know would delight in the mundane with me.

I guess the quest starts here, what it is I'm not sure yet. I just need to put one foot in front of the other and find the path that I long for and was successfully navigating before numb became normal.

I don't want to be *that* blogger

the one who jumps from peril to peril posting only the waah and the boohoo's.  I don't want to be the person who sees the thundercloud and neglects the rainbow.  I would pour this into a conversation with my Momma but I cannot.   This is the first time I've been at my in laws since my Mom died.  It's been purposeful.  I didn't think I could handle being here.  They are amazing people.  They are kind and thoughtful and gentle.  It wasn't that I don't like them, quite the opposite. I adore them. My love for them made me feel guilty.  Like I was already letting the family I have fill in the spaces that the absence of my Mom had left.  It made me feel betrayal was coming from my mouth when I called out "Mom" and it was answered by someone other than mine.  And then.  There have been a lot of "And then"s in my life lately.  I am conflicted and torn.   My heart has been so full today and so incredibly empty.  Tears have flown because I ache deeper than words can convey and then again because of the overwhelming joy that I feel at the efforts of my family to make this time positive.  My family went from 4 to 5 and that's how we roll.  All of us together.  This is the first time we've traveled to our in laws as a family of 5.  Worried is too strong of a word.  I was, however, concerned. Concerned for our newest family member.  Making sure that she felt loved and included.  Her presents piled up next to her like promises.  Promises and welcome.  My heart broke that she had to be here.  That the loss of the past year put us in this position.  Then in a breath it was swelling with pride.  Pride at this family that I have known for 1/2 my life.  These people that trusted me to love their brother & son.  The presents that were contained within the wrapping paper didn't lose their promise or their welcome as they were unwrapped.  Gifts for a girl they hadn't yet met but already knew they would love.  How can I not be joyful? How can I not feel the very grace of God? I have cried more than I thought I would.  Laughed more than I thought I would.  My breath has caught in my chest more than once.  My first choice would, of course, be to have my Mom here and not have to do any of this.  But I am so blessed in the midst of the sadness to be surrounded by people who love me and know how to show love. 
The gentle guidance of a grandma over an eager new embroiderer is beautiful and sad to watch.  Hearing my girlchild whispering excitedly over a newly acquired skill with her grandma and knowing that it will never again be my mom makes me sad in a way I've not felt before.  I didn't realize I would mourn that...or I guess I thought I already had. 
And so many more examples of moments that have brought me the greatest sadness and then in an instant I am overwhelmed by the blessing that is my life. The blessing of the people I am surrounded with.  The blessing of the gaping spaces in my life that are being filled by people who love us.  Sometimes without even knowing they are filling a gap.  My momma always bought my babies advent calendars. Every year they would look forward to picking it out with her. This year those calendars taunted me from well before Thanksgiving.  I would shop and they would be in the most obscure places.  I welled up with tears more than once after spotting a random display, knowing that this year it would be my job to them.  That from now on it wouldn't be a gramma thing. Today my mother in law called me into her bedroom after all the gifts were exchanged.  She handed me a bag.  Inside were reusable advent calendars.  boxes that can be used every year over and again. Never again will I have to buy the calendars that taunted me.  And it is still a grandma thing.  How can I not feel blessed? The best part? She didn't just get 2 no, our family of 5 now needs 3 and in her bag were 3 advent calendars. 

So basically it hurts and then...

I am sad and then...

I am so very very thankful for the and then!

Being My Own Glue

I have been stuck in this rut.  This place that is a lot like the waiting place a really smart Dr. once wrote about.  Being authentic is important to me.  Being the same person despite the company I am in.  Despite the circumstance.  Despite the occasion.  I've long called it being "real" and it's the one word I wanted people to use to describe me above all others.  But because I was so bent on being authentic I didn't realize that I was negating the validity of change.  Change doesn't mean I am inauthentic.  Things change.  Circumstances change. Relationships change.  I would never discount the renewed relationship between my brother and myself because I know that it is authentic and genuine and real but I wouldn't have rediscovered it if I hadn't been open to changing the way our relationship  was just a few short months ago. I didn't have a strong relationship with my extended family.  When I would see them I would enjoy the time we shared together but if it didn't happen I wasn't longing for it.  The change? The difference?  The glue that allowed me to be a passive participant in family relationships is gone.  If I want to be in touch with people *I* will have to be in touch with them.  It requires me going outside of my comfort zone to discover how to be my own glue.  I went outside of that comfort zone this evening.  I reached out and asked if I could "crash" their Friday night plans.  They said yes! I  felt awkward asking to spend a few hours and because of my terminology they thought I was spending the night, and they still welcomed me with open arms! So I spent a night laughing, ,crying and freezing with that extended family that I mentioned.  You know, the ones who I enjoy but don't long for? The difference this time? I left knowing that I will be creating an opportunity to see them again, not just waiting for it to happen.

When Jeremy retired we moved to a town knowing no one, not a super daunting task given our military background.  I had forgotten that it wasn't the moving that was the hard part.  The hard part of a new place is forging relationships.  I had discounted the glue of being military families.  We all knew what it felt like to be the new kid, so it was a title you wore for a very short period of time.  So here I sit in a 'new' town 4 months later and know as many people as I did when I arrived.  I keep waiting for the welcome committee, the new kid banishers to arrive and bring with them a gaggle of friends and a spot safely secured for me to plug in to and belong in. 

While my babies were little I found an amazing group of friends online, through a pregnancy centered website.  We talked and forged relationships and developed bonds.  I have met some of them over time and our families became great friends.  Consider some of them my close friends despite the fact that I've never laid eyes on them. After a decade of knowing these ladies I've seen their families grow and change.  Lifted them up through sadness and joy.

I've had a lot of glue in my life.  The glue of my mom being the anchor and the commentator on our family is no longer an option. It now requires effort on my part.  The glue of the military that bonded spouses together and allowed friendships to be forged quickly and deeply no longer exists in our new life.  Finding friends means going places and reaching out,again it basically means effort on my part.  The glue of my online family where somebody is always there to talk me through my current crazy or parental dilemma.   I didn't realize how letting somebody/something else be my glue had made me so lazy.  I  had never done things differently so I didn't think that I could because in my mind it would make me inauthentic.  It would make me less real.  It makes absolutely no sense when I walk through it.  So today I choice to reach out, to make awkward phone calls, to invite people in instead of just smiling and nodding.  Today I have decided that I will become my own glue.  If you get a phone call from me, be gentle.....this is new.