Catch Up

Hard to post when there has been so much going on but here is a brief synopsis...

Transitions - Healthy and Resistant

In August we packed our cars, M.Bray and I, and along with CF drove M.Bray to college and moved her into her dorm room as she began a new chapter in her life. The first few weeks were emotional and taxing as she adjusted to being on her own in a new environment, first time in a formal classroom, and making friends when knowing practically no one. But now? She's doing fantastic! Great grades, making solid friends, and selected for a prestigious campus leadership program. What has touched this mommy heart the most is seeing her blossom, as I knew she would, and witnessing her faith grow deeper. Love that girl and miss her fiercely!

As for the impact of another unwanted transition for our little threesome, CF and I are taking it differently. He has closed himself off to his sister. Another loss in a laundry list of what he has experienced the last 18 months. Trusting the Lord will work it out. 

Me? Couldn't be prouder. Our relationship has matured and we've become more appreciative of each other, which I didn't think was possible because we are both pretty appreciative. Besties. 

Chaos - Yep! I just can't seem to escape it. 

My family of origin has tried to interject themselves back into our lives which I have ignored. They know about the divorce and like a preying lion, think they can take advantage of me in a weak position. I may be weak, but I am not stupid! The way in which they've gone about it, the guilt they've tried to sling at me, the triangulation, shows me nothing has changed. They have even tried to usurp me and get to M.Bray. She's been a witness and is not falling for it. 

And then there is AJ, the ex. Blah! Blah! Blah! Crazy makes you think you are the one who is crazy. Not falling for that one either. 'Nuff said. 

Growth - One Step Forward, Two Steps Back, and a Leap Frog

Sweet, sweet friend took an opportunity to swoop in for several days to spend time together and let M.Ann be M.Ann. I so very much needed that. It broke the mind funk I experience when my brain is idle (ex and his half century of shenanigans) which has allowed me to move beyond the fallout. Not just that, it was a taste of God to me, to be valued, treasured, cherished, and loved. Oh! And I was challenged too! I've lived inside a safe box, expecting following man-made Christian rules to keep me safe. It didn't. Chunking that man-made box and questioning my paradigm. 

Another "friend" who has barely been a friend in my hour of greatest need, set to make amends. We met, we talked, I was brutally honest, but I also shared a few personal things I asked not be shared. It was. I'd say I was disappointed, but I expected it. 

Also been stuck envisioning what life could and should be for a forty-something unexpected divorcee. I thought I'd caught sight of it and then, sadly, it all fell apart. Well, sad at the time, but grateful because I think I have come to realize the correct conclusion. There is no vision. Embrace how God sees me through Jesus Christ and the rest will fall into place, day by day and moment by moment. I think that's the closest I am going to come to a vision. :)

Independence Week

A near perfect week.

It began hanging out with a dear friend chatting about the unexpected twists and turns of life, good and bad, over a glass of wine on the first anniversary of my divorce.

What has been the good of the last year? As I gain greater distance from the quarter of a century relationship/marriage, I am discovering more fully who I am, no longer conforming in order to appease another.  It's a freeing place to be, happily content and comfortable with my life at present as mom, friend, and employee. I think I'll stay here for a good long while, perhaps even for the duration.

And for the end of the week? Vacation time with my kiddos enjoying the 4th of July and time away together.

It has been a week of celebrating independence, knowing and feeling He has blessed me and my life!

Brink of Despair

It's the middle of the night and hot tears are streaming down my face. Not happy tears. Tears of frustration. Tears of old pain. Tears of new pain. The familiar but forgotten feeling of being figuratively bound in a straight jacket, completely helpless, is back. And I want to scream at the top of my lungs, a blood curdling scream, and rip my clothes to shreds.

Go back about thirty years in my life. I was nearing the end of my high school years. I was also beginning to better understand the chaos and control I lived with in my family of origin. Not allowed to express a differing opinion or do anything other than what was expected of me (but what was expected was ever changing and never expressed), it wasn't long before I realized I had to play along or risk a cursing or a beating. So I sucked it up to keep peace. After high school graduation, I sucked it up to keep finances from being cut off from my college education and post college studies. Then I sucked it up to be a "good" daughter. No beatings, just the cursing. All of this was under the hand of my father, while my mother played Switzerland.

In 2006, I finally came undone.

There is one thing I wanted in having a family...for my children to never have to live with the insecurity and chaos I grew up in.

Fast forward to today. Without going into details, my life is repeating itself for MBray. It's a punch in the gut, gasping for air, stunning moment as I realize the correlations. The feelings of enduring Chaos for all those years take hold of me and shake me to the core. No! Not for my kids, Lord. You and I have worked too hard on renewing me and creating a safe, healthy home life for my kids. But yet I feel the same helplessness because it is not in my control. As the tears roll, despair tries to settle in. I can't believe this is happening again....

Then it comes to mind- but I am not Switzerland.

Revisiting Sovereignty

MBray is applying for a scholarship that requires the applicant to write an essay explaining why they have chosen their college major. I love her words. I love her heart. But there is also the pang of how completely we were deceived by her father. Here's the essay:

               College was never something I looked forward to. I believe learning is important and enjoy it if it’s a subject I see a need to learn about, but I did not know what I wanted to do with my life. Growing up, my ideas for the future ranged from veterinarian to chef to actress, all of which would have been fine professions, but not ones for which I felt passion. Much like my desire to learn things for a purpose, I want my life to have a purpose as well. I knew I wanted to uplift and encourage others, but I did not know how to turn that into my life’s endeavor. I was lost. What this essay will describe is how I found my purpose and passion, which in turn has compelled and excited me to further my education.

                This story begins when I was fifteen on a Sunday morning. My father and I had spent most of the night at the ER. Fortunately, it turned out to be nothing at all serious, but that didn’t change the fact that we were exhausted. One thing you should know about my father is that he was always looking for ways to get out of going to church. Whether he needed to plow through a larger than normal sports section in the paper or we all needed to watch this classic movie, at least once a month there was a less than viable excuse for not going. You can imagine my surprise then when my parents knocked on my bedroom door the next morning to tell me they were both headed off to church. When they got back, they were giddy. The sermon that morning had been on adoption and during that sermon both of them had felt called to act on it. In my mind, it was a no brainer. I always believed we had a wonderful family and we had plenty to go around. Why shouldn’t we offer our house and family to someone who needed them? Everyone was in agreement and so the process began.

We wanted to adopt from the U.S., someone younger than my brother who was ten at the time, and possibly a sibling group. That is very easy to say, but so much harder to do. My parents participated in all the classes, signed all the forms, completed all the home inspections, and basically played the game. A year passed and we still had not even gained an approval, much less a child. Our papers were lost numerous times. People retired or wouldn’t call back. Everything that could go wrong did. But somehow, about fifteen months in, we finally were approved. Excited that we might finally welcome a child into our home, the next few weeks after that were spent waiting for a call, placing inquiries about children on state and national adoption websites. Nothing happened.

I was sixteen now. There was a dinner for foster and adopting families in our area, hosted by the Department of Human Resources. Hoping to get noticed, my parents decided to go. The adults were going to dinner, while the children would stay at the DHR offices, cared for by the staff there. I knew it was necessary, but was hardly enthused. It’s hard to be when you’re left behind in a place you have never been with people you do not know. In the end, my brother and I confined ourselves to a corner, with our sticker name tags, nervously nibbling on cold pizza. As I stood uncomfortably, glancing out the window at the greying sky, wishing I could be anywhere else, I suddenly heard, “Look M., she has the same name!” I turned to see a little girl, about eight with long blonde hair pointing straight at my face. She was motioning to a tiny girl one sitting across from her. I looked down at my name tag confusedly. Yes, I was M. Apparently, the little wisp the blonde was talking to was also. The blonde girl, whose name was T., began a conversation and I eagerly responded. We played games with the salt and pepper shakers and talked about our love of cookies, like you do.

When the social workers shooed us away from the cookies to the playground, I tagged along after T. and M.. It was on that playground I began to know my namesake a bit better. She was pale to the point of sickly, with chopped off brown hair and unnaturally large eyes. It was plain she had not been well taken care of, yet she had a sweet, unmistakable joy emanating from her that both surprised and endeared me to her. Despite T.’s repeated insistence that she must “take care” of her sister, by this time she had entrusted M. completely to me. My evening could not have gotten better as I bused her to the kitchen and to the bathroom, her soft hand fitting so naturally into mine. I could see she acted younger than she was, though there seemed to be no mental issues. Along with the other factors, I began to realize these must be children placed in the foster system, possibly very recently. My mom had talked about the kids we might adopt and all the issues they may have. She bought scores of books on the subject. But now it was not just a theory. It was right in front of me and it was tragic—yet beautiful at the same time. How could something so brokenhearted be so kind and gentle? The question itself gave me hope. If they could bless others in such a way when they were hurt, imagine how they would blossom if they experienced healing.

It was the end of the night and all the children were sitting watching Alvin and the Chipmunks: Chipwrecked. I was sitting in the middle of T. and my brother. M. was trying to get a blanket from another child and generally being her friendly self, which annoyed T. as “their mother had told them never to talk to strangers.” I was just beginning to wonder why I was not considered a stranger, when T. decided to forcibly pick up M. and bring her across the room. Unfortunately, M. was far too big for this maneuver and T. dropped M. M.’s crying did not last long. T.’s tears were far worse. She blubbered about how she was letting her mother down—the mother I later found out she had been taken away from. I wanted to help her, but I felt confused and awkward. I could not imagine the responsibility and pain this girl must be dealing with every moment. She was not only coping with the estrangement from her mother, but must help her sister navigate living in an unfamiliar place with strange people. As one of the adults comforted her, my heart ached for her in a way I had never experienced before and I wished I knew how to help.

It took me hardly 24 hours to decide that this was where the Lord was calling me. I had always enjoyed being with kids, trying to figure out what made them tick, but I could use that interest for something greater. I was passionate about helping children be their best, both mentally and emotionally. Our dreams of adoption eventually fell through. I was never able to connect with T. or M. again, but that night God used them to allow me to see what I wanted to do with my life. I began working with children in any way I could, mostly through church activities, with the aim of gaining more knowledge about how children think and how I can better serve their needs. Through these activities I have gained not only experience, but friendships and assurance that this is what God wants me to do. When I attend Auburn University in the fall, I will be pursuing a degree in Human Development and Family Studies with the intent of going on to pursue a Master’s Degree in School Psychology. People find this rather funny since I’ve been homeschooled my entire life, but also think it will give me a unique perspective. Children excite me because of their innocence and potential. I see in them endless possibilities. I hope that in serving them I can be a nurturing and positive influence that will encourage them to be the person God created them to be.

As I've been rehashing how we got where we are, why life didn't turn out in ways I think would have been better, I am led to one conclusion...God's sovereignty. It's the only thing I can cling to about my ex and about other things in my life too. The quarter of a century of being deceived, the doors I wish were open but are not, the dreams unrealized. I keep breathing, I keep taking another step, I keep moving forward, not only because I must, but also because of my faith. The Lord has had this all along, for what purposes I am unsure of. I am banking on the promise, all things work together for good. Give me unshakable confidence in it, Lord!

Reclaim

Exhausted, but at rest within, I just spent two days attending non-stop meetings at my alma mater for freshmen orientation. MBray is officially enrolled as a college student, has her dream class schedule set for fall including a history class with a fabulous professor (I find it funny I can direct her to some of the professors I had when I was there, though this one just worked out), and is in full prep mode to move there. I smile just thinking about it. She'll do great and I am so excited for her!

Quite frankly though, I was anxious about being there before we left. Not because of the bittersweetness of anticipating my oldest leaving the nest and beginning a new chapter of her life. But because the bulk of my memories of there, both in college days and beyond, revolve around my ex, AJ. We met and began dating my sophomore year, got engaged my fifth year (changed my major during my fourth year), and went back for athletic events over these past two decades as a couple and a family.

Not only are there physical reminders, but there are the relationships. There was a high probability of running into my, his, or our college friends, especially those who don't know how our story played out. That thought put me on edge. It's so incredibly awkward, especially being as "fresh" as it is, and I know no other way to handle it other than tell the truth.

Instead of all I feared, it was a time of reclaiming. I knew no one associated with "us". There were hardly any alumni in this orientation group of hundreds of incoming freshmen. I didn't see a soul I knew from my student days. I spent my time enjoying the beauty of the campus and the love current faculty, staff, and students have for the university.

I hate to say I am living vicariously through my daughter, but in a way, I am. In this case, both healthy and healing, at least I think so. Thank you, Lord!

Oh! And by the way, WAR EAGLE!!!!

Bittersweet

One of my preschoolers crawled into my lap during Bible time this morning.  Her hair was poofed which made it brush up under my nose and across my chin the whole time. The smell of her hair cream still lingers as the day is coming to a close. It has me thinking of all of them.

There's the hugs from an adorable blonde, who is shy and timid with her peers, but lights up when I show up or she sees me in the hallways. And the little guy, not in my class, who also crawled up into my lap one day. He looked up at the end of our Bible story time, gave me an unsolicited, "I love you." and then as an added bonus, "Thanks for letting me snuggle with you." Then another, who unexpectedly gave me the Christmas card he made during children's church.

I've had the privilege to enjoy many sweet moments over this past school year of Sundays. Wouldn't have expected it. I've worked with children at various times over the years. Haven't felt the heart tug I've had this time around. But this age, there is a sweetness, an innocence, a purity, unlike any other. Feeling a bit verklempt today as it has come to an end. All part of life, a good part of life, as we all grow and move on to bigger things.

Thanks so much, S, for asking me to teach with you! What a blessing your encouragement and friendship has been to me! Love you bunches!!!!! :)

Life Lesson

Subject: Reasoning with an Unreasonable Person
Lesson: Just. Say. No.
Duration: EVERY. TIME.
Benefit: Personal Sanity. Lack of Regret.
Exceptions: A "talkative" baby