Bringing Home Baby

I remember it like it was yesterday...bringing home our firstborn and walking through the door of our home, the place of comfort and familiarity.
But everything felt different. Everything looked different. The atmosphere was odd and the world was a foreign place. I wanted my Mommy. I needed direction, instructions, reassurance. It was a lonely island of you-and him-and her...Anna Marie.

I was a parent and nothing, ever, would be the same.

Seventeen years later, here I am once again, standing in the doorway with my firstborn, not knowing what to do or what the hell I've gotten myself into.
This time though, I'm standing on the inside of the threshold, about to watch my firstborn walk out of our life, and into her own. I need reassurance. The atmosphere is odd and everything feels different.

Senior year is about to start and I'm already drowning in my own tears, surprised by how hard it's hit me. I've started making a mental checklist, making sure we've taught her absolutely everything she needs to know to survive out there. Then I laugh at the absurdity for a split second until the worry hits that spot in my stomach again, and I'm gasping for air. Warm tears cannot be dammed behind the eyelashes. This is not like me, I think. 'What is wrong with you?!?' An imaginary wind chills any confidence I have had in my parenting skills. All seems wrong and lost on this island. This freaking mother-island.

I replay in my head a memory that pops up from way back in my sub-conscious, of the day Gerald left for college...
Gerald's Mom standing at the kitchen sink, shoulders slumped and shaking, trying to stifle the sobs and peel potatoes for dinner. I watched her from behind not knowing what to do or say (I was a slight mess myself). Now I know what she knew. I feel what she felt. I can only imagine my Mom doing the same when I left a year later.

Is this part of the curse? That the labor pains never really end? You feel a longing in your womb, your breast, your every fiber for that little bundle of warmth that scared the living crap out of you; that pulled you out of narcissism and into sacrifice; that made you realize just how short life is; that makes you brave and a complete mess at the same time; that makes you long for that child even when they're right next to you still.

In my mind's eye, I see the famous Sistine Chapel painting of Adam reaching out to touch just the tip of God's finger. I focus on the hands, everything else a blur. I'm reaching for one small touch so I can hang on one more minute. I'm rooting for myself, 'Reeeach! you can do it!' And yet, I know I cannot, because she has wings, the wings I've groomed everyday for the past seventeen years. 

Do You Hear What I Hear?

Mary, the Holy Mother. I'm sure she would scoff at that title. I have all kinds of questions for her when I get to heaven. We're gonna sit down at Starbucks Heaven and talk about our children, specifically sons. Wow, I so wish she would have written a book. She could have wowed us all with the tale of the perfect child, huh? Imagine that.

When Jesus told His parents he was leaving town - getting the heck out of Dodge - to answer His Call - hang with a bunch of traveling fisherman, do some tent revivals, heal some lepers and have some free, heavy-duty therapy sessions with prostitutes and the like - what do you think dinner was like that evening?

Parents: "Jesus, please, you've been studying in the Temple for
years; you've almost got your GED, you've got it made, kid. Why not
stay? The whole family lives here. Everybody in town knows you; you've got connections. You've been a little quirky your whole life and we've given you your space but now it's getting old. Don't be ridiculous. You're gonna be a priest."

Jesus: "But, Dad, this is my Call in life. It's my passion. It's what I
was born to do. I'm gonna change the world, give people a reason to live, a purpose."

Parents: "That's great, Jesus. It's a noble thing, really, but
you need to finish your education first; you need something to fall back
on. What if this whole passion-thing of yours doesn't work out, then
what? You need a steady job, insurance, retirement, a family."

Mary: "We just want YOU to be happy, Jesus. Find you a nice
girl, get betrothed, buy a nice camel, maybe a coat with many
colors."

Joseph: "We won't allow it. No. That's it, you're not
going. End of discussion."

Jesus: "Just try and stop me."

I don't know. Who knows how that family discussion went down. "Mary, did you know?" That's the question.

Do YOU know? Do you know your child's Call? How will the discussion go when it's your child's time to answer their Call?

For years, from about Kindergarten until Freshman year, Anna always claimed that her future was to be a missionary. I don't know where that came from but I always knew God was going to change her mind; she just didn't seem the missionary type, I thought. No, God, there's something more, isn't there?

Gerald and I never discussed with her much about her future. We never pushed her into this or that; never talked about a certain college, or college at all for that matter. Some people aren't called to college. We tried to leave the door wide open. I guess we just always had an understanding that she would know, she would figure it out, it was her life/her future to sort through. Whatever it was, He would make it known. Our job was to make sure that she new to listen and had ears open to hear the Call. We would get out of her way when she needed; help her when she asked. We put her through a Student Leadership program that would guide her and give her wisdom to make wise choices about her future. Teach her what we didn't know, and some of which she wouldn't want to hear from her parents. We offered her a big headstart and it took.

For a couple of years now, Anna has been bent on becoming a Lawyer. At first I was excited for her but lately, I haven't said much about it to encourage her, crossing my fingers she'd get her wits about her and then figure out her REAL Calling. I don't know what my hesitation was. Lawyer just didn't ring in my ear. I just knew she was going to change her mind. I had this butterfly in the pit of my stomach.

So I waited. Here we are now, Junior year, starting to get into all the college planning. Lord, what ARE you waiting for? What are you doing? Talk to her, PLEASE. She's confused.

Today, it hit me - Amy, what are YOU doing?

How many times have I sat and listened to a student tell me their heartache about having to go to the college mom and dad picked out b/c mom and dad would pay for nothing but. How may times have I heard parents talk and talk and talk, nag and nag and nag about having a "fallback", until finally the child gives up on their Passion, to do the will of their parents instead? I've watched passion-called missionaries become parent-called dentists instead; i've watched passion-called teachers become parent-called engineers instead. I've even watched a woman stubbornly allow her family's life to continue to deteriorate for the sake of financial comfort and a good reputation, by not allowing her spouse out of a career that was killing him and their marriage; instead of seeing their marriage possibly reborn within the joy, strength and confidence of a man, doing what he was created to do.

And the thing is, I always swore I'd never be that parent. Well, as it is, I can't judge, lest I be judged.

I have refused to step off the ladder so that she can climb the top on her own. It's not that I don't like the roof she's going to step out on, rather I'd like to see her take a different ladder, you know one that I have deemed, "safer," even though I myself have been injured on this ladder many times. Explanation forthcoming.

Today, I will go talk with my daughter. I've never verbally rejoiced with her, in her Calling; I've always held back, thinking it would change. I've not interested myself with the college she wants to attend because, frankly, it scares me a little that she wants to attend a college in D.C. that's not a private, Christian college. Truthfully, I guess I thought she would always want to stay in a Christian (i.e. safer) environment even though we've always reared our kids otherwise; and it's embarrassing to admit because I know better. Christian is certainly NOT a synonym for safe; it's anything but. We've purposely educated our children in a way so that they can go anywhere. They have to know what they believe, why they believe it and be strong enough to stand up for their beliefs, in all areas of life. And here I stand, purposely holding back from my daughter the joy deserved, and during what should be a celebratory event in her life, simply because I refuse to be an active participant in my own discomfort. What a hypocrite.

I don't know what I thought Anna would do in life. I know that I should have been able to see it. She's always been very stubborn and eerily but logically, persuasive. Too smart for her own good sometimes.

I know she's instinctively felt my qualms about her decision and I think our relationship has silently suffered for that. I cannot afford that right now. Only so many marbles left in that jar until she's gone.

I've never heard what my daughter has heard, directly from her God, about the Call on her life. What I have heard is my daughter, HER voice, trusting in her God. Yep, she has a voice, we reared her that way - if only we'd known =). Only she can hear what the Lord is saying to her about her life. I can only hear what the Lord is saying to me about mine - He's been fairly loud and clear this week. Sure, I can help, dole out some advice but she has the power of the decision. For the power I have, I have to trust in the Lord and trust that I have helped rear my child to hear the voice of God, loud and clear. And then I pray, constantly reciting my children's names in His ear. It's a circle that's unbroken.

So now, I must let.....go. Oh, it's so much harder than I thought it would be. This labor pain is going to last awhile, I'm afraid.

Where To Begin...

Haha. Trying to decide where to begin blogging after having been off Blogger for over a year now, my mind reached waaay back and pulled out the line from a famous children's song, "Finnegan, begin again..." and then I hear from my earphones, "you're so 2000 and late..." Haha, that's so me, I agree.


Well, we're off and moving once more. Columbia, South Carolina, here we come, ready or not. Having been there previously for just a few days to look for housing and get acquainted, and now sitting back here all comfy at my desk, in our home we've lived in for four years; in a city where you can drive to anything in 15 minutes; in a neighborhood that has such a low crime rate, it's unusual for us to LOCK our doors, I can't say that I'm overly thrilled at moving back into a big city.


Columbia is about the size of Kansas City Moe, where I spent the first 24 years of my life before we entered the life of school administration and started moving further, and further, south (yes, we did live in Florida first and while geographically it is further south, it's certainly not "Suthun").


South Carolina is definitely Southern - the accents give creedence to that label. Hoping to quickly learn the eccentricities of the SC accent before making a fool of myself as I did in AL the first couple of weeks we were there, confounded by a hairstylist saying, "length" when I thought he was saying, "lint". You could imagine.

YO! Where My Honey Bees At?

Funny story...

(btw, right now I SHOULD BE doing laundry)

About a month ago, I was doing some shopping for a trip and being that I have a thing for pj's, I was in the pj aisle. Another lady and I were looking at the same pair of pj's which just happened to have honey bees and all-things-honey-bee on them. They were cute, girl!

So, we get to talking because we were both slightly uncomfortable at the fact that another adult knew we were interested in these bright, predominately yellow and black pj's for ADULTS. We each explained to each other why we appreciated this particular theme of pajamas so.

My explanation we won't get into but hers was valid -her hubby was a bee-keeper. One thing led to another in this interesting conversation, in the middle of the day, at Target. I proceeded to ask her if her hubby happened to sell bee pollen (our family eats bee pollen when allergies start to bother us - it works even though it seems weird). None of the health food stores in the area were able to tell us why they couldn't find any to buy this year (you have to buy new each year b/c each year, apparently, your allergies are slightly different; you also have to buy LOCAL bee pollen since your allergies are local).

So, she told me that no, her hubby did not sell bee pollen, at least THIS YEAR. She continued to inform me that all the bee farmers in the area were losing their honey bees. She said it's an epidemic and nobody can figure out why they are dying off and that the honey bee industry is in trouble. My first thought was not, "poor honey bees; what can I do?" I admit it was, "Shoot, I'd better go stockup on honey before the price goes sky-high!"

So, summer got busy, I forgot to go buy honey until today when, somehow, I got to this link: http://www.helpthehoneybees.com/ (click on the "featured video")

Who knew that honey bees could dance, let alone krunk

A N D do the disco (seriously, they DO dance, a 'bee' dance, when they find nectar).

So, this is my contribution to the plight of the honey bee. PLANT, PLANT, PLANT some wildflower gardens along your fencelines, people! and pass this info along. Oh yeah, and go rent The Bee Movie, it'll tell you much you didn't know about bees.

Did I buy the pj's? Nobody cares about my choice in pj's! Go help the honeybees. =)

I'm Alive

I'm here. I'm busy.

Thanks for caring.

I see that nobody's even asked about me in weeks.

Fine.

Hello?

So, what have you been up to this summer?

Here's a sampling of our summer so far but much, much more to come.

Hope you enjoy; you just never know with family videos.

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Meet Sally Pecan (or Sally Beanpod or Sally Chipmunk - whatever her menu choice is at the time), she was Number Two's birthday present way back in February and a GREAT Humane Society find. She's definitely a lady, as evidenced in her debut video. She likes to spend her days reclining by the pool, chasing chipmunks and digging gargantuan holes and directing traffic..

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This next one is for my sister who tried to threaten me into not posting it on my Blog. There is a small shot of her derriere, which I just noticed, *oops*, how did that HAPPEN? Well, now I have to post it. That's Sibling Rivalry 101, right? Ignoring that sacred code could send the Earth catapulting through the Milky Way toward the Black Hole.

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Next, a spring video that teaches a lesson about life: It's not always about what you see, sometimes, it's about what you hear. Or, you should always watch what you're saying because you never know who is listening in.

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