I am unsure what's happening, but I've been feeling this great divide from my family. Being that I'm experiencing only what I can best describe as an alone-on-my-own-island feeling, I'm not sure what to do to get back home.
I think this is why I'm haven't been blogging.
While I'm having a hard but so very good school year, I am feeling disconnected from so much of what used to be my world.
Friendships are good. Marriage is good. Mac is away, but we're good. But my siblings are shadows; niece and nephews seem far from me. How did this happen? Why do I feel so far from so much of my family?
The only person to blame is me.
A number of years ago, one of my aunts was upset with me (understandably), and she pretty much cut off all communication with me. She promised me she wouldn't let anyone in the family know, but in time, since she's the matriarch, I lost touch with all my cousins, aunts and uncles. I know my becoming a Christ Follower was an issue too. I come from a mostly Catholic or non-practicing family, and I like to question and talk about faith, and this was not popular. So I became unpopular.
All my fault.
About that aunt, one of my friends asked, "Would you be friends with her if you weren't related?" As good of a person as she is--kind, thoughtful, and giving, I had to answer no. We didn't have anything in common besides our blood. Some would say that was enough, but apparently it's not. I have only seen her three times in six years--and those times were duty calls, things I believe she did because she felt she was representing my mom. I love her, and always will, but it doesn't seem she'll ever be part of my life again.
Still, I had my brothers, my sister-in-law, and, on occasion when she allowed a portion, my sister.
Then sister's problems deepened. For a while, the rest of us would band together as our concern and our inability to help her drew us closer. But that didn't last, and I the last time I sat with my family, I felt lonely. I didn't fit. My language was different. I felt great anxiety. I experienced growing pains that caused a slamming awareness of a profound loss. When I made an attempt to describe what I was experiencing to them, I did so inadequately and I was not understood.
I deepened a divide I alone created.
Again, all my fault.
I love my brothers and sister-in-law with such a big part of my heart. I miss my creative, annoying, always late, prettier than me sister. I hate the illness that has removed her from our lives--the only part of this story that I can not take responsibility for.
I know this is a rambling post; I could continue in this vein but I won't. I just don't know what to do. As I typed that statement, that want for action, I realize that I haven't prayed--not once--about this. There is my do. If anything comes from me putting this "out there," it's the reminder, God's voice as I type telling me, to bring it to Him.
"Hello God. Help me change. Deepen the hurt if it leads me to a place where connections are strengthened and all is forgiven. I need you here, I cannot do this alone. Amen."
Showing posts with label Family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Family. Show all posts
Saturday, February 16, 2013
Thursday, January 17, 2013
How I Feel in This Empty Nest
The first word that came to mind as I typed this post's title is blessed. I feel blessed.
But I have to back up.
After days of sorting, donating items to Goodwill, listing things on eBay, packing and being celebrated and then sent off by friends, Mac left for Baton Rouge on Saturday morning.
It was a tearful good-bye for both of us. We had a good hug before he climbed in the cab of that ramshackle (truth, it broke down three times and he was stranded in Arkansas for nearly 48 hours...) truck and drove off.
It was definitely time for Mac to move out. To be fair to him, he'd only been back "in" for six months while he looked for a job locally then decided to move back south. He's 26, and needs to be independent. So now he is, but it's just farther away than I like.
I don't think that will ever change.
However, I carry with me this ridiculously awful perspective stick, and I smack myself with it from time to time. On Saturday, as I cried (and laughed) while helping him with some last minute tasks, the sting of that stick made me aware: he was meant to stop to stay at Brandon's parents' home in Tennessee that night, I needed to take my vitamin that morning, and of my blue ribbon friend Jack.
You see, Brandon was Mac's "like the older brother he never had" friend who died in 2007. While he's with Jesus--no doubt about that--I'm certain all who love him, especially his mom, would like Brandon only a few states away.
The vitamin, well it's laced with iron because I'm scheduled to give blood soon at a memorial blood drive for my friend Helen's daughter Vicki who died in 2010. Vicki accepted Christ only hours before her death, and while that was an amazing comfort, those close to her feel a great ache. Helen would treasure a text message or an instagram post from Vicki.
Jack. It's "his" blue bow magnet I adorn my car with, his youthful wisdom that reminds me and any who drive behind me, "Nothing is impossible with God." I had been instant messaging with his mom Anna earlier that week. She had "liked" some of more weepy facebook posts about this move. What grace she showed me while still greatly mourning her son.
So I find these moments in my life to be a walk of a blessed balance. I must allow myself to feel my pain. Mac is my only child and he is far away. I miss him. My pain is real. But he is a text, a facebook message, a phone call, a 2.5 hour flight, and/or a 15 hour car ride away. What great choices I have to still show love and be shown love by my son.
I have typed this entry without a tear, and those that threatened didn't pool while I wrote about the distance between here and LA, but did collect when I consider the distance between here and Heaven.
I am blessed.
But I have to back up.
After days of sorting, donating items to Goodwill, listing things on eBay, packing and being celebrated and then sent off by friends, Mac left for Baton Rouge on Saturday morning.
It was a tearful good-bye for both of us. We had a good hug before he climbed in the cab of that ramshackle (truth, it broke down three times and he was stranded in Arkansas for nearly 48 hours...) truck and drove off.
It was definitely time for Mac to move out. To be fair to him, he'd only been back "in" for six months while he looked for a job locally then decided to move back south. He's 26, and needs to be independent. So now he is, but it's just farther away than I like.
I don't think that will ever change.
However, I carry with me this ridiculously awful perspective stick, and I smack myself with it from time to time. On Saturday, as I cried (and laughed) while helping him with some last minute tasks, the sting of that stick made me aware: he was meant to stop to stay at Brandon's parents' home in Tennessee that night, I needed to take my vitamin that morning, and of my blue ribbon friend Jack.
You see, Brandon was Mac's "like the older brother he never had" friend who died in 2007. While he's with Jesus--no doubt about that--I'm certain all who love him, especially his mom, would like Brandon only a few states away.
The vitamin, well it's laced with iron because I'm scheduled to give blood soon at a memorial blood drive for my friend Helen's daughter Vicki who died in 2010. Vicki accepted Christ only hours before her death, and while that was an amazing comfort, those close to her feel a great ache. Helen would treasure a text message or an instagram post from Vicki.
Jack. It's "his" blue bow magnet I adorn my car with, his youthful wisdom that reminds me and any who drive behind me, "Nothing is impossible with God." I had been instant messaging with his mom Anna earlier that week. She had "liked" some of more weepy facebook posts about this move. What grace she showed me while still greatly mourning her son.
So I find these moments in my life to be a walk of a blessed balance. I must allow myself to feel my pain. Mac is my only child and he is far away. I miss him. My pain is real. But he is a text, a facebook message, a phone call, a 2.5 hour flight, and/or a 15 hour car ride away. What great choices I have to still show love and be shown love by my son.
I have typed this entry without a tear, and those that threatened didn't pool while I wrote about the distance between here and LA, but did collect when I consider the distance between here and Heaven.
I am blessed.
Tuesday, January 8, 2013
A Table Story Nearly Finished
I just copied this post from my old blog to this one. I wrote it in July. Please, humor me, read all the way through to the very bottom. There is an addition.
Last night, I spent about an hour going through family photos in order to find a picture of...a table.
I came close dozens of times, but for all the decades--six--this particular table has been in our family, it has managed to elude my camera pretty well.
In the 60s, counter space was at a premium in my parents' little ranch home. One day, my father brought home a counter height butcher block table for my mom. Brand new, he spent all of $5 on it.
In May of 1969, our family moved across town, and that table was cut down and used in our family room, first in that house and then in our Naperville house. Purpose served from 1969 to 2001, family room end table. In all the years our dog Schnapps was around, he hid under it during every thunderstorm and 4th of July. In 1988 though, my car loving boy took over that table, and while it still held a lamp and magazines, it also became his "carsandtrucks" table. He played on it for hours a day.
When
my father died and we sold the house, Mac and I got the table which we
used as an end table in our condo. See it there at the end of the
couch? (This photo was snapped only weeks after moving in because those
blinds went soon after! I can't help but dig the treadmill in the
living room...eek!)
I
married Brad in 2007, and the table was then used in Mac's ISU rental
house and NIU apartment. It resided as a coffee table for three grad
students in Baton Rouge for two years, and just this month it returned
to Illinois in a stinky rental truck. Water stained and marred, I was
itching to glue the top, which had been split for about ten years, and
then refinish it.
Needing some big clamps, We took it to our friend Walt's house, put it up on his workshop bench and saw much more damage and some flaws we'd missed. Since it now belongs to Mac, he has opted to shed its mismatched and falling apart legs and frame.
With Walt's help, and a little of mine, he has
decided to salvage the top and find a table redesign for it. They
biscuited the top back together, then they sanded, and sanded some more.
(I helped a bit.)
Not an after, but a "so far" picture.
Once a design is chosen, supplies are purchased, and time is set aside to work, it will become a table again.
As I composed this post, I was reminded of Shel Silverstein's The Giving Tree. This table has served us--from my mom through Mac--well, and it remains important, even in its yet to be repurposed form. Mac might not like the expression of this, but it is my hope another child races cars across it. In time.
January 8, 2013
Mac leaves to return to Baton Rouge, a real move, this Saturday. He will be taking the table with him. Walt, worked with him a lot, and Mac learned a bit, but they ran out of time to stain it. I know July to January should have been rife with opportunities, but they had totally conflicting schedules until the past week.
Here's the almost finished product:
Last night, I spent about an hour going through family photos in order to find a picture of...a table.
I came close dozens of times, but for all the decades--six--this particular table has been in our family, it has managed to elude my camera pretty well.
In the 60s, counter space was at a premium in my parents' little ranch home. One day, my father brought home a counter height butcher block table for my mom. Brand new, he spent all of $5 on it.
In May of 1969, our family moved across town, and that table was cut down and used in our family room, first in that house and then in our Naperville house. Purpose served from 1969 to 2001, family room end table. In all the years our dog Schnapps was around, he hid under it during every thunderstorm and 4th of July. In 1988 though, my car loving boy took over that table, and while it still held a lamp and magazines, it also became his "carsandtrucks" table. He played on it for hours a day.
Needing some big clamps, We took it to our friend Walt's house, put it up on his workshop bench and saw much more damage and some flaws we'd missed. Since it now belongs to Mac, he has opted to shed its mismatched and falling apart legs and frame.
 |
| Leg--a mystery wood when compared with the top. |
As I composed this post, I was reminded of Shel Silverstein's The Giving Tree. This table has served us--from my mom through Mac--well, and it remains important, even in its yet to be repurposed form. Mac might not like the expression of this, but it is my hope another child races cars across it. In time.
January 8, 2013
Mac leaves to return to Baton Rouge, a real move, this Saturday. He will be taking the table with him. Walt, worked with him a lot, and Mac learned a bit, but they ran out of time to stain it. I know July to January should have been rife with opportunities, but they had totally conflicting schedules until the past week.
Here's the almost finished product:
I like that he's taking some long time home with him. You know?
Thursday, November 29, 2012
Our Advent Door
For his 60th birthday, I collected cards and letters from people who love Brad and I tucked each one in an envelope, one for each of the 24 days of April leading up to and including his birthday. He truly rushed downstairs each morning to open each day's gift, and the folks who sent them would check, "Has he opened mine yet?"
It made his special season wonderful and personal.
I wrote in my last post about our Advent wreath tradition, and this year I've incorporated a card a day into Advent too. Using 25 days of Bible verses I located here after a google search, I've made an Advent calendar door. During a quick trip to Michael's I found these gold envelopes and little gift stickers.
I cut card stock of red and green alternating for each envelope, and on each card I wrote the subject on one side and the corresponding verses on the other side.
As much as I wanted to pre-read some of the verses, I did not. Day one, Saturday, holds a card that reads "Sharing" on the front and John 3:1-21 on the other. You can go ahead and read that if you'd like, just don't tell me what it says. Yet.
From a design standpoint, I was thrilled with the gold envelopes when I came across them, but I may spend 2013 looking for something with more oomph. Regardless, I am excited at the prospect of sharing time in the Word with Brad each evening, and for that the wrapper matters not.
It will make this special time of year wonderful and personal.
May you usher in Advent well.
P.S. Brad decided we should turn all the cards to make the door more colorful, so after our first reading tonight (Christmas is for Sharing, John 3:1-31), we did just that.
It made his special season wonderful and personal.
I wrote in my last post about our Advent wreath tradition, and this year I've incorporated a card a day into Advent too. Using 25 days of Bible verses I located here after a google search, I've made an Advent calendar door. During a quick trip to Michael's I found these gold envelopes and little gift stickers.
Sorry for the blur, school nights don't allow for pictures perfect.
As much as I wanted to pre-read some of the verses, I did not. Day one, Saturday, holds a card that reads "Sharing" on the front and John 3:1-21 on the other. You can go ahead and read that if you'd like, just don't tell me what it says. Yet.
Really, they're gold.
It's kind of bland now but as cards are read, the red and green will peek.
It will make this special time of year wonderful and personal.
May you usher in Advent well.
P.S. Brad decided we should turn all the cards to make the door more colorful, so after our first reading tonight (Christmas is for Sharing, John 3:1-31), we did just that.
Saturday, November 24, 2012
Shopping for Chicks On Line
For many reasons, I ask my students to work on service projects with me or on their own at the holidays in lieu of giving me gifts. Parents seem to like this idea, the kids get into it, but still, some present me with presents. Last year I received some truly meaningful gifts--most notably two donations to local food pantries, and a gift of ducks through World Vision.
From my Nick and his family came this gift that helped others and warmed my heart. What a memory that gift made. I like to think it continues to make an impact on those who received the ducks--eggs for food, ducklings for more eggs, eggs shared with neighbors, families growing stronger and seeing God at work in their lives all because of a thoughtful gesture.
This year, Brad and I received the World Vision gift catalog, and we decided he would "give" his grandkids chicks for Christmas. Living so far away from them, it's hard to know what they're into, and like most kids, they are generously gifted at Christmas from all sides.
I don't know that his giving chicks to his grandkids will be something they value this year, but I'm hoping it makes an imprint on their hearts. Seasons from now, I hope they'll remember and maybe one day willingly pay it forward, just as Nicholas' gift caused me to.
Check out the catalog. Perhaps a goat, cow, duck or chick is in your loved one's future? There is such a great variety of things to choose from: food for family, soccer balls for school, a bike for a girl to get to school, school supplies for American children, meals...
From my Nick and his family came this gift that helped others and warmed my heart. What a memory that gift made. I like to think it continues to make an impact on those who received the ducks--eggs for food, ducklings for more eggs, eggs shared with neighbors, families growing stronger and seeing God at work in their lives all because of a thoughtful gesture.
This year, Brad and I received the World Vision gift catalog, and we decided he would "give" his grandkids chicks for Christmas. Living so far away from them, it's hard to know what they're into, and like most kids, they are generously gifted at Christmas from all sides.
I don't know that his giving chicks to his grandkids will be something they value this year, but I'm hoping it makes an imprint on their hearts. Seasons from now, I hope they'll remember and maybe one day willingly pay it forward, just as Nicholas' gift caused me to.
A note though, the website can be finicky. Be patient with it!
Saturday, October 27, 2012
"The Boy" is Going Back to LA
My son has decided to move back to Louisiana come January.
Bearing in mind I have three important people in my life who have lost their children to death, I am trying to process this turn of events with perspective while still allowing myself to be sad. It's been a less than smooth week.
Yes, I know my son is still alive, and I can and will reach out to him often.
But I am still grieving. I'm upset that he's moving far enough away that I couldn't drive to see him in one day. (Unless I suddenly develop the ability to drive for 17 hours without falling asleep.) I'm sort of--and yes this is ridiculously petty--bummed about going on vacation to the same state each year, or even twice a year. But mostly, and this is cart before the horse truth, I am already missing the idea of being the kind of gramma I hoped to be.
He is not married, not even engaged. We know though time flies, he's 26--when did that happen? Perhaps one day he will be a daddy. (I mean, he had me save his Lego, there has to be a reason.)
He will be there. They will be there.
I will be here.
That doesn't fit in with the image of me frequently baby-sitting, reading to, rocking, wagonging, swinging, painting with, chocolate sharing with, and reading to (I know, that's a repeat--I hoped to do it often) my someday grandchild(ren).
Admittedly, I'm sad that automatically I'd take a second and distant seat to the local grandmother. Yes, I know this is petty, but it's how I feel. I'm working through it, all the ugly of me.
For a number of years, it was just Mac and me. He has been welcoming to Brad. I was and still am looking forward to having a daughter-in-law one day. I've always been open to sharing Mac around the holidays. I have lived without seeing him on Thanksgiving a few years. I never wanted to be controlling of his time. But this one, this move, makes me want to duct tape him to the couch and say no.
I know that's extreme, and of course, I'd never do it. Convicted felons aren't allowed to be teachers. I just don't know how else to process all this other than to feel it and name it. I lack the graciousness to just say I hope for the best and mean it because my heart's imagination is running rampant.
Bearing in mind I have three important people in my life who have lost their children to death, I am trying to process this turn of events with perspective while still allowing myself to be sad. It's been a less than smooth week.
Yes, I know my son is still alive, and I can and will reach out to him often.
But I am still grieving. I'm upset that he's moving far enough away that I couldn't drive to see him in one day. (Unless I suddenly develop the ability to drive for 17 hours without falling asleep.) I'm sort of--and yes this is ridiculously petty--bummed about going on vacation to the same state each year, or even twice a year. But mostly, and this is cart before the horse truth, I am already missing the idea of being the kind of gramma I hoped to be.
He is not married, not even engaged. We know though time flies, he's 26--when did that happen? Perhaps one day he will be a daddy. (I mean, he had me save his Lego, there has to be a reason.)
He will be there. They will be there.
I will be here.
That doesn't fit in with the image of me frequently baby-sitting, reading to, rocking, wagonging, swinging, painting with, chocolate sharing with, and reading to (I know, that's a repeat--I hoped to do it often) my someday grandchild(ren).
Admittedly, I'm sad that automatically I'd take a second and distant seat to the local grandmother. Yes, I know this is petty, but it's how I feel. I'm working through it, all the ugly of me.
For a number of years, it was just Mac and me. He has been welcoming to Brad. I was and still am looking forward to having a daughter-in-law one day. I've always been open to sharing Mac around the holidays. I have lived without seeing him on Thanksgiving a few years. I never wanted to be controlling of his time. But this one, this move, makes me want to duct tape him to the couch and say no.
I know that's extreme, and of course, I'd never do it. Convicted felons aren't allowed to be teachers. I just don't know how else to process all this other than to feel it and name it. I lack the graciousness to just say I hope for the best and mean it because my heart's imagination is running rampant.
Saturday, September 22, 2012
They Wed
Psalm 37:4
Take delight in the Lord,
and he will give you the desires of your heart.
and he will give you the desires of your heart.
Last night my dear friend/sister/daughter married the man of her heart. I was asked to read at their wedding, and through tears and trifocals I did. It was a beautiful ceremony, and mine weren't the only tears shed.
Sister and Maid of Honor Lauren's speech was beautiful. She spoke of their dad who was very much missed that day, and she imagined what he would say if he was there.
Brad was asked to pray before the meal, and he spoke of Jesus' love for weddings and the Great Banquet we would all one day partake in.
After dinner, I did dance quite a bit, but I didn't get a blister. My feet are happy today, but I can't fully cross that off my list! I like to "fast" dance, and Brad likes to slow dance. We decided we'd be practicing in the living room before our next wedding (on NYE), either that or I'm going to kick off my shoes and stand on his feet!
Brad danced with his "adopted" daughter, the bride, whom we call Art. I chose "Cinderella" for them. Brad tells me they had a good talk while they danced.
While they danced, groom Jon danced with him mom. I'm so glad I caught this...
Wonderful memories with which I start my fall.
1 John 4:7-12
7 Dear friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God. Everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God. 8 Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love. 9 This is how God showed his love among us: He sent his one and only Son into the world that we might live through him. 10 This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins. 11 Dear friends, since God so loved us, we also ought to love one another. 12 No one has ever seen God; but if we love one another, God lives in us and his love is made complete in us.
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