It seems as of late that the posts have slowed, the year has taken a toll, and life has really thrown my family and my heart a few curve balls. As I reflect on this - often really- I think of the many adventures this year has brought. In the course of the past four months my youngest son graduated high school, my oldest son got married and will leave for the US Navy in a matter of days, my oldest daughter was/is faced with some scary health news while she continues to plan her wedding, and my youngest daughter moved in with her father (against my will and heart). To top it off, I turned forty in this time and was faced with the reality that life- the life I have known for over 22 years (yes, since I was 18 years old) was about to change drastically.
Here I sit- like I have many times in the past few months and days, and I ponder the reality of all changes. I wonder what lessons I have learned and taught, what differences I have made or not, and mostly- what's next. While I know that it is many years until the illusive retirement from teaching, I cannot help but think about the possibilities. Each night, I return to this big empty house, with these big empty bedrooms, and my big empty table that used to hold five hungry teens and their plethora of friends- and I am faced again with this reality. It's all different now.
SO- what is next? Do I continue teaching another twenty years and retire quietly? Do I chase a dream or open a coffee shop in a quiet village in Costa Rica? What is it? The clock ticks, the hands turn, and here I sit- immobile to the reality before me. How can I learn to cook for two or worse yet one? How can do laundry only once a week? How can I look back and know- know what? Did they learn? Did they grow? Do they need me? Would they tell me if they did? What is this new role, and how can I find it? I don't know. Is it merely empty nest syndrome, or is it a longing to be what responsibility has for so long kept from me? I wonder- am I brave enough or crazy enough to embark on a new adventure? Or- will I sit and miss them all so much that I wallow in self-pity and resentment that Time stole my children, my role, everything I lived for to this point? Maybe I can learn to forgive Time. Maybe I will forgive myself for not seeing this sooner. Maybe time will forgive me for not recognizing he was approaching. I suppose that's what I am left with now- time- forgiveness-forgiveness- time... Maybe.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Monday, June 7, 2010
Still More Successions
Have you ever stopped to think about the people who come in and out of your life? There are those who for reasons sometimes unexplained, we have a connection with for a time to fit the purpose for that moment, and then those people are gone only to be remembered years later with a smile and kind word or thought. Then, there are those with whom we seem to be thrown into interlocking soul bonds. Those are the people who even after years of separation, the conversation and connectedness picks up exactly where it left off - no time seems to have elapsed, and no walls seems to have been constructed. Each person adding a piece of the human you become in the time specified for the addition.
It seems that I reflect on these groups of people often lately.I have categorized them into groups of men; fathers, sons and brothers, and husbands/lovers... oops was husbands plural? Never-the-less, I will explain - or at least attempt an explanation. Sons and brothers are those who know you enough to do some damage if they ever let the skeletons out of the closet, but because they love and want to protect their sisters/mothers they observe and only use the skeletons to tease and taunt - wait is it protection? Or, is it a bribe for later in life? Hmmmm interesting thought. Interestingly enough these guys are also observers- they watch and tactfully intimidate those who could never be good enough for their sisters/mothers, and - if all goes as planned- they observe the poor fellows walking away. If not as planned, the watch them walk right into the lives of their sisters and mothers and these guys soon become husbands or lovers. The brothers and sons have fought a losing battle.
Husbands/lovers/ significant others- call them what you may, they are an interesting group. In some regard, they are like the sons and brothers, because they too are skilled in bribery. These men often find a means to coax what they want from their women even if all they want is a little time for pleasant conversation. Sadly, they lack the insight that sons and brothers have and must work harder than any group to get to the heart of a woman and find the mechanism that pushes and presses the woman to give back to these men. However, what they lack in insight and skeletal luggage, they make up for in product yield if they make the initial investment of time and true effort. Once they prove they can grow this unyielding product, they must nurture and cultivate it in order to continue benefiting from the yield.
Fathers-- of fathers- there is no group like that of fathers. They are the of all other men. As young girls we look at our daddies and say, "Daddy, I want to marry you when I grow up." How sad it is that we don't listen to our inner little girl and find a mate who loves, honors, and protects us like our daddy. His eyes see past us and into the little girl he helped create, the young women he molded, and the adults we grew into. He hands guided- though sometimes no so gently- as we took those first steps and then as we stepped into the world. His words reprimanded but also offered wisdom we sometimes didn't recognize until years past the time of disbursement. Most significantly- his arms... dad's arms provide a firm tug to steer us or a strong grasp to hold us. They offer protection and shelter. Again though, sometimes we act like silly females and don't realize all those arms offer.
If the brothers and sons are merely slightly younger and lesser experienced mirror images of fathers, why must the husbands/lovers be so far removed at times. Are they not also either brothers, sons, or fathers themselves? Of course, if we would cherish that protection and that purity in love from that original Knight in shining armor of our lives- if we would hold our fathers as a measuring stick that all other men must be compared, our hearts and minds would be more content and more fulfilled. Don't underestimate the power of the father. These men can set the precedents for almost all other relational skills a woman learns in life. Glean the knowledge and relish that love and the memories other men must slave to try and duplicate the heart of the girl who feels secure in her love.
It seems that I reflect on these groups of people often lately.I have categorized them into groups of men; fathers, sons and brothers, and husbands/lovers... oops was husbands plural? Never-the-less, I will explain - or at least attempt an explanation. Sons and brothers are those who know you enough to do some damage if they ever let the skeletons out of the closet, but because they love and want to protect their sisters/mothers they observe and only use the skeletons to tease and taunt - wait is it protection? Or, is it a bribe for later in life? Hmmmm interesting thought. Interestingly enough these guys are also observers- they watch and tactfully intimidate those who could never be good enough for their sisters/mothers, and - if all goes as planned- they observe the poor fellows walking away. If not as planned, the watch them walk right into the lives of their sisters and mothers and these guys soon become husbands or lovers. The brothers and sons have fought a losing battle.
Husbands/lovers/ significant others- call them what you may, they are an interesting group. In some regard, they are like the sons and brothers, because they too are skilled in bribery. These men often find a means to coax what they want from their women even if all they want is a little time for pleasant conversation. Sadly, they lack the insight that sons and brothers have and must work harder than any group to get to the heart of a woman and find the mechanism that pushes and presses the woman to give back to these men. However, what they lack in insight and skeletal luggage, they make up for in product yield if they make the initial investment of time and true effort. Once they prove they can grow this unyielding product, they must nurture and cultivate it in order to continue benefiting from the yield.
Fathers-- of fathers- there is no group like that of fathers. They are the of all other men. As young girls we look at our daddies and say, "Daddy, I want to marry you when I grow up." How sad it is that we don't listen to our inner little girl and find a mate who loves, honors, and protects us like our daddy. His eyes see past us and into the little girl he helped create, the young women he molded, and the adults we grew into. He hands guided- though sometimes no so gently- as we took those first steps and then as we stepped into the world. His words reprimanded but also offered wisdom we sometimes didn't recognize until years past the time of disbursement. Most significantly- his arms... dad's arms provide a firm tug to steer us or a strong grasp to hold us. They offer protection and shelter. Again though, sometimes we act like silly females and don't realize all those arms offer.
If the brothers and sons are merely slightly younger and lesser experienced mirror images of fathers, why must the husbands/lovers be so far removed at times. Are they not also either brothers, sons, or fathers themselves? Of course, if we would cherish that protection and that purity in love from that original Knight in shining armor of our lives- if we would hold our fathers as a measuring stick that all other men must be compared, our hearts and minds would be more content and more fulfilled. Don't underestimate the power of the father. These men can set the precedents for almost all other relational skills a woman learns in life. Glean the knowledge and relish that love and the memories other men must slave to try and duplicate the heart of the girl who feels secure in her love.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Just Successions...
It has been many months since I visited this blog to add my thoughts and Pearl's adventures. Successions of Somethings is being printed and will be available soon. I must admit, the wait is excruciating, but I am sure that "this too shall pass," and I will be stronger for the waiting. Like being patient with the printing and release of Successions, the latest new adventures have been overshadowed by life's many twists. Jason and Elli are still planning their nuptials, but my mind needed clearing of anything "nuptialistic" for a bit, so we will catch up with the marital adventure later this summer. For now, I will focus on simple blogging in it's truest form. No book, no chapter, no adventure of Pearl and her excursions into the past hurt while healing int he present will be posted for a few weeks. Instead, you will get the meandering thoughts of Mary's mind... hmmm scared yet?
It's difficult sometimes to figure out what needs to be blogged as fact or fiction, but in the end the past is the past, and somebody's fact is another body's fiction - isn't it? The truth is, we fight every day to make the "what if's" a reality - the fiction turns to fact, because the current present is not what we planned for our future. Sadly, yesterday only has a fifty-fifty chance of surviving as fact as well. Life- is it stranger than fiction? Or is it a step into fiction-and an avoidance of reality?
I chose this week to live in my fiction- or to play "what if" . Imagine a whole week of "what-if". I played in a creek with my youngest daughter, watched my youngest son hit a home run, hugged my oldest daughter before she walked down the aisle, and toasted my eldest son saying he was a super lucky man to have a bride as wonderful as his. I sat under a huge ancient oak with a friend while sipping tea and talking, and reminisced about my childhood with a fellow California native. I planned family vacations, and birthday presents for the kids. I planned get-a-ways and escapades in Italy. I rehearsed for an imaginary vocal exhibition, and I fell asleep on a boat on the river. I spent a fall in Michigan at the Great Pumpkin Festival with my mother, and I ate date nut bread with my dad. I wore wooden shoes and shared oliebolens with my brothers, and I slathered on my big sister's lipstick. What a week- a wonderfully interesting week of laughter and love. Does it have to end? Was it all fiction?
Funny how those moments from the memory become somewhat distorted and make their way into our minds as perfect factual bliss. If my smile has a chance to remain, I say let this fiction live. True successes are found when one accepts the reality of fiction and smiles through it while thanking God we have the escape.
It's difficult sometimes to figure out what needs to be blogged as fact or fiction, but in the end the past is the past, and somebody's fact is another body's fiction - isn't it? The truth is, we fight every day to make the "what if's" a reality - the fiction turns to fact, because the current present is not what we planned for our future. Sadly, yesterday only has a fifty-fifty chance of surviving as fact as well. Life- is it stranger than fiction? Or is it a step into fiction-and an avoidance of reality?
I chose this week to live in my fiction- or to play "what if" . Imagine a whole week of "what-if". I played in a creek with my youngest daughter, watched my youngest son hit a home run, hugged my oldest daughter before she walked down the aisle, and toasted my eldest son saying he was a super lucky man to have a bride as wonderful as his. I sat under a huge ancient oak with a friend while sipping tea and talking, and reminisced about my childhood with a fellow California native. I planned family vacations, and birthday presents for the kids. I planned get-a-ways and escapades in Italy. I rehearsed for an imaginary vocal exhibition, and I fell asleep on a boat on the river. I spent a fall in Michigan at the Great Pumpkin Festival with my mother, and I ate date nut bread with my dad. I wore wooden shoes and shared oliebolens with my brothers, and I slathered on my big sister's lipstick. What a week- a wonderfully interesting week of laughter and love. Does it have to end? Was it all fiction?
Funny how those moments from the memory become somewhat distorted and make their way into our minds as perfect factual bliss. If my smile has a chance to remain, I say let this fiction live. True successes are found when one accepts the reality of fiction and smiles through it while thanking God we have the escape.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Successions of Nuptials ~ Week Two
“A wise daughter [son] maketh a glad mother [father]…” Proverbs 10:1
The Week began with an odd but warm phone call from Jason’s grandparents. I knew immediately that the voice on the other end of the phone had to be a relative of this young man, because of the frank tenderness and courteous demeanor emanating from the phone; “Ms. Pearl Mackinac?”
“Yes, this is she. May I help you?”
“This is Wayne Steptreader, Jason’s grandpa.”
“Why hello. It’s nice to talk to you.”
“Yes, yes. Well, I am calling to tell you what an absolutely wonderful daughter you have and how very happy we are to have shared the past few days with her. We are very excited to get to invite her into our family.”
“Why thank you sir. That is kind. I know she is a blessing. Your grandson has also been a blessing. I know they will both be so happy together.”
The conversation continued a few more moments with Mrs. Steptreader also picking up a line and joining in the praises of their grandson and my daughter. It was a heartwarming conversation that added to the confirmation that these two kids were well-suited and richly blessed. After hanging up the phone, I texted Elli to tell her how very sweet her future grand-parents-in-law seem. She laughed and again repeated, “Mom I just can’t wait to unbox that dress and see what it looks like on me.”
There were those words again. “I can’t wait.” So strange really to think that in just a few days her anticipation would be quenched, and in a bit more than a year the real wait would be over. She would be Mrs. Jason Steptreader.
Saturday morning arrived like any other day. The bitter cold wind of the winter blew fiercely, while I rushed around the house tidying up before Elli’s arrival. When Elli pulled into the driveway, I knew her order of business would be hugs, coffee, then the dress. Sure enough, an hour passed, the coffee and hugs were devoured, and we were off to the bedroom with a box cutter and a camera. The giggles from my girls were funny and uplifting. Elli and Arynn looked at the puffy white satin and the archaic style of the 1980s while they asked how their mother could have worn that “thing”. She slipped the dress over her head and noted the differences in what she expected and what she saw. My breath completely gone and my mind slipped into reverie: Not so much of the dress itself, but of that first time I slipped the gown over my head and looked up into the long mirror in the bridal shop.
Twenty three years earlier, I stood in front of a room full of mirrors. My bony frame encased by this mountain of satin and lace. I stood- stupefied: No words, just a blank, pale stare. A few moments of staring and listening to the voices of my mother and Gwenn (my sister-in-law) and the others in the fitting room (although who the others were escapes me), I suddenly felt weak. Another few moments and I was no longer standing in front of the mirrors. Instead, I was seated on the floor in this room with a bag of M n M’s in my hand and Gwenn speaking to me in what seemed to be a strange language. She asked me over and over again if I knew where I was and how many fingers she was holding up in front of my face. All I remembered saying was, “Too many and too close.” She laughed and backed away then returned her hand to my head with a cold cloth.
The seamstress jabbered about how so many young girls felt weak and dizzy the first time they put their dresses on. It was perfectly normal for this to happen. I wanted to laugh. At no time in my life had events been “perfectly normal”. Why would I assume they would begin being normal now? That day, I looked into a mirror and stared at me. I realized that not only was I scared of being married, but I was petrified that when he got to know the real me- the me I tried so hard to hide- the little girl under the corner built-ins- he would leave, and I would again be alone. There I was looking at this empty girl in the white dress trying to fill a void and not knowing how to do that.
“Maybe we can find a way to change the bodice to where it doesn’t hit right on my hips. Or wait, I know- we could add a different fabric texture to make the dress modern and yet still keep its classic elegance. What do you think mom?” Elli asked.
“Huh- oh- yes. Elli that sounds like it will be perfect for you. I called a seamstress yesterday who wants to meet with you next month. She said to make all the notes and find a few pictures detailing what exactly you want her to do to the dress, and she will be glad to make the changes for you.” My answer was quick, but as I watched her peer at herself in the mirror with her younger sister fussing over the funny sleeves and the hilarious veil, I realized this young woman before me was the model bride. She looked into the mirror and saw her future self- her joint self with this young man who loved her with a depth I had never experienced, because I had never knew that depth of self and never let it be known to others.
Elli smiled in the reflection and asked, “Mom, what are you thinking?”
“Oh Elli, I am just thinking that every day you show me what waiting for peace looks like. You are so wonderful, and you two just make me smile.”
We took some pictures, put the dress on a hanger, and retired to the great room to watch television. She kept that grin on her face for hours, and so did I.
Monday, January 4, 2010
Successions of Nuptials ~ Week One
As many of you know, the first book is being published as I write. I will no longer be posting chapters of Successions of Somethings on the blogspot. However, I will occasionally give updates for the release of the book, so those who have been reading can find out what happened to Sonny, what secrets Pearl is still holding, and what becomes of Gwenn and Maddie. Look for it to make its début around the first of February at authorhouse.com and several other bookselling websites. In addition, I am going to be writing weekly posts about my new Succession. Although this new blog was not originally slated as one of the Succession books, it seems appropriate to share the progression of this new saga as it mirrors a new chapter in my life- one of the successions in motherhood and more importantly- an exciting time in my oldest daughter’s life.
So, here it goes- welcome to the next Succession book. It will be very different than the first, but still hopefully hold suspense. Let’s follow Pearl as she prepares to let go of her daughter. What lessons must she learn?
Successions of Nuptials
Week One
Today marks one week since my daughter’s boyfriend (Jason) texted to say he was engaged, he “finally talked her into marrying him”. Funny that his joke sent me into a reality check that emphasized the many emotions I didn’t really expect to deal with so very early in this process. Stepping back to Thanksgiving weekend and Jason’s request for my daughter’s hand, I snapped into this ageless whirlwind of letting go and holding on. Did I teach her well? Is she really ready for this next step? Did I teach her anything? Will she repeat my mistakes (God- please don’t let her repeat my mistakes)? Most of all; does he really love her enough to make it forever? A month later, an informing text, and a reassurance, wow- this is real, and they really are excited about their new adventure.
Last night, Arynn (my youngest daughter) and I looked at the potential wedding site, caterers, bakeries, and florists online. We clicked through bridal party gown pages on the web, and we giggled about pranks to pull at the rehearsal. We called Elli with questions, and received her calm, collected, but thoroughly excited replies. Then, “Mom, I am coming home next weekend to unbox the dress and try it on. I can’t wait.” She can’t wait- she can’t wait- wait--- where has the time gone? We all know it was time for them to make this next step. We have teased for months. They have been together for two years. She has planned her wedding since she was a girl. Wait- she is still a girl. She’s my little girl- woman- girl. Wait. She can’t wait. My little girl forever, his future wife and love of his life (better be anyhow- insert smile); wow what a journey we have begun. Will I lose it? Will I hold it together? Will she want my help, or will I be in the way? Will we be Bridezilla candidates, or will we savor this adventure as a mother/daughter relationship growing into maturity and experiencing the many joys the next 17 plus months can bring? I choose the latter—I sure hope she does too.
It’s odd that I can’t remember what it was like to plan my wedding to her father in detail. I remember days and some moments, but the process seems to escape my memory. It was somewhat an escape from Sonny, and after my divorce, there were so many memories I skewed to make the failed relationship seem less unfortunate. But, sadly, I don’t remember my mom and I relishing the memory and excitement of planning my wedding. I have made it a priority to remember special moments with my own children and try to make the relationships stronger than my familial relationships were. Sometimes, I think my kids are so close and that we are open with one another, at least a little open anyhow. I have tried to talk to them each step of the way about good and bad and tough decisions, but now- this change is bigger than life itself. She will begin her own family in just 17 months.
I need to make this a good memory. I don’t want her to forget like I have forgotten. I don’t want her to remember what I remember. She can’t wait- wait.
So, here it goes- welcome to the next Succession book. It will be very different than the first, but still hopefully hold suspense. Let’s follow Pearl as she prepares to let go of her daughter. What lessons must she learn?
Successions of Nuptials
Week One
"My son, hear the instruction of thy father, and forsake not the law of thy mother: For they shall be an ornament of grace unto thy head, and chains about thy neck."
Proverbs 1:8-9
Today marks one week since my daughter’s boyfriend (Jason) texted to say he was engaged, he “finally talked her into marrying him”. Funny that his joke sent me into a reality check that emphasized the many emotions I didn’t really expect to deal with so very early in this process. Stepping back to Thanksgiving weekend and Jason’s request for my daughter’s hand, I snapped into this ageless whirlwind of letting go and holding on. Did I teach her well? Is she really ready for this next step? Did I teach her anything? Will she repeat my mistakes (God- please don’t let her repeat my mistakes)? Most of all; does he really love her enough to make it forever? A month later, an informing text, and a reassurance, wow- this is real, and they really are excited about their new adventure.
Last night, Arynn (my youngest daughter) and I looked at the potential wedding site, caterers, bakeries, and florists online. We clicked through bridal party gown pages on the web, and we giggled about pranks to pull at the rehearsal. We called Elli with questions, and received her calm, collected, but thoroughly excited replies. Then, “Mom, I am coming home next weekend to unbox the dress and try it on. I can’t wait.” She can’t wait- she can’t wait- wait--- where has the time gone? We all know it was time for them to make this next step. We have teased for months. They have been together for two years. She has planned her wedding since she was a girl. Wait- she is still a girl. She’s my little girl- woman- girl. Wait. She can’t wait. My little girl forever, his future wife and love of his life (better be anyhow- insert smile); wow what a journey we have begun. Will I lose it? Will I hold it together? Will she want my help, or will I be in the way? Will we be Bridezilla candidates, or will we savor this adventure as a mother/daughter relationship growing into maturity and experiencing the many joys the next 17 plus months can bring? I choose the latter—I sure hope she does too.
It’s odd that I can’t remember what it was like to plan my wedding to her father in detail. I remember days and some moments, but the process seems to escape my memory. It was somewhat an escape from Sonny, and after my divorce, there were so many memories I skewed to make the failed relationship seem less unfortunate. But, sadly, I don’t remember my mom and I relishing the memory and excitement of planning my wedding. I have made it a priority to remember special moments with my own children and try to make the relationships stronger than my familial relationships were. Sometimes, I think my kids are so close and that we are open with one another, at least a little open anyhow. I have tried to talk to them each step of the way about good and bad and tough decisions, but now- this change is bigger than life itself. She will begin her own family in just 17 months.
I need to make this a good memory. I don’t want her to forget like I have forgotten. I don’t want her to remember what I remember. She can’t wait- wait.
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