first scare

December 1998.   Living in North Jersey -- suburbs of New York City.  A scary place to be should something happen when the clock strikes midnight on December 31, 1999.  Hmmmm....maybe we should follow an old dream and move out west and plant all our own food and be self-sufficient; living off the land.  Far away where the chaos won't get to us.  Near a river so we'll have plenty of water once the entire country's water system shuts down.  Just you and me, simple and free.  Hmmmm.  


Nah. Too much work.  Besides, my husband's a city boy.  He has to shave when he camps.  Maybe we should just move somewhere less crowded.  Something to ponder.


More space.  We could sure use more room for our growing family than our tiny garage apartment provides.  Looking at local properties, we're shocked at the very high cost of living in our area.  We'll never be able to do buy a bigger place unless we drastically change our lifestyle, put the children in daycare, and me go back to my career.  Then we'll need another car, new clothes, etc. etc.  It just doesn't seem worth it.  We were committed to the children being at home while they were little.  I had worked full-time for over ten years and was ready and excited to raise my children and spend lots of time with them.

My sister calls me to chat.  She tells me about a house for sale next to hers.  What?!!  Are you SURE?  It can't be that affordable!  Things are so much less expensive down there... Hmmmm...back to the south.  That's something to ponder.

Back to the Y2K scare.  People start storing canned goods and bottled water.  I picture my first-born son with his ribs showing and sucked-in cheeks, like those poor children you see on the World News.  I imagine how it could very well be a reality if all that the media said was going to happen actually happened.

And then there were the in-laws.  Lots of problems with the in-laws, who vehemently rejected me in the beginning.  It was a little better, but not much hope seen.  Nothing had really changed much.  A wise counselor advised us the best thing we could do is put distance between them and us.  We needed that space to blossom and be free.  Just you and me, simple and free.  No more drama and chaos and hurt feelings and crying.

Warm, sunny south, here we come. 

Where is my little girl?

Lastnight, I got a meager three and a half hours of the yearned-for luxury called sleep.  Today I'm barely functioning, although I'm getting pretty good at pretending to be normal.  I hope sleep deprivation is not normal.

One of the things I can always do, no matter how exhausted, is to walk.  So I took a quick walk in the sunshine to clear my cloudy mind.  I started sorting through my brain clutter and pondered, as I have way too often, as to why I don't sleep normally.  The usual answers popped up:  hormones (a very real physical problem for me at present), stress (also very real with homeschooling four children), diet (too much sugar perhaps?), etc., etc.

Then like a bolt of lightening it came to me.  I am grieving and haven't dealt with it.  I had been noticing a heaviness in my chest lately and a low-grade depression.  But what am I grieving? 

I thought about the last few days.  I had been looking through some old photos on my husbands laptop, and came across some of my sweet little daughter, Pauline.  She looked so innocent and sweet and young.  She was dressed in her Mennonite dress and was playing in the snow, with a scarf draped around her head, the way Mennonites do.  Her eyes were big and happy and clear -- so wholesome.  Right then I felt a little twinge of pain in my heart.  Pain that that sweet little girl no longer exists.  I know that probably sounds horrible for a mother to say and I feel guilty for writing it.

 

I'm grieving over my old self and my old life. Even though I never want to go back, I don't think I'm done grieving over needed losses.  I think I'll write it out over the next few days and see where it takes me...

 

 

My Extraordinary Friday Moment

To see more "Friday Moments" visit here.

Purple Flowers Hurt

One day I was riding alongside someone in their car, going shopping together for a special occasion.  It was a BEAUTIFUL day -- the sun was shining, the birds were singing -- and I felt great!  My relationship with this person seemed to be healing and going in a positive direction finally.  I was grateful as I realized this that day in the car.

So we're going along the highway, and I kept spotting these delicate, bright purple flowers, peeping up all over the grassy areas beside the road.  I thought how wonderful that something so precious and fragile and beautiful grows beside a dirty, busy highway -- especially since we were in New Jersey.  :)

  
I mentioned to the person driving how delightful it was to see those bright purple little flowers everywhere!  It was a kind of spiritual moment for me -- a state I live in and indulge in quite often.  So after I mention my joy to this person, they totally burst my bubble and say, rather rashly, "Wow, I see you don't get out much!"  Ouch. The sarcasm (which is disguised anger) bit me like a viper.  I realize words typed on a screen are difficult to decipher at times, but when hearing words in person, you hear the tone, the intention, and see the body language.  The intention that day, over 15 years ago, still stings when I see purple flowers.

Careless words hurt, but really it's the motive and intention that hurt, especially when spoken by someone close -- someone that you're hoping cares about you.  Words spoken by a close one are so much more damaging than from an acquaintance or a stranger because you have a history and a future with them.

But I keep reminding myself of the truth that the words someone speaks reveals more about their inner life, than it does about the person spoken to.  Then I allow myself to heal as I return to my peaceful state of being.  Until I see purple flowers again.  I see them all the time anymore.  But each time I see them, I heal a little more, and they take me to a deeper, calmer place.

Just Me

Sometimes when I can't seem to figure something out in my mind, or when I keep having negative thoughts about something or someone over and over, I write.  I just write unhindered, not for others to see, but just whatever comes in my mind at that moment. Stream-of-consciousness writing.

 
I was doing some of this stream-of-consciousness writing the other day, trying to work through some troubling emotions.  It was concerning feelings of rejection for not "measuring up" to someone else's unforeseen standards.  As I was writing, after about a page and a half, the pen just wrote, seemingly by itself: "I am me and that is enough."  I thought, "There it is!  That's the answer I was looking for!"  I felt an instant peace come over me with this new realization.

I continued the thought and wrote a little poem thing:

I don't need you to understand me to make me whole.
I am me, and that is enough.
I don't need to perform in hopes of gaining your favor.
I am me, and that is enough.
I don't need to work to be deemed worthy by you.
I am me, and that is enough.
It is enough for God.
It is enough for me.
Just me.
I am enough.

That's it.  Coming to this realization somehow took away my anger and resentment toward this person, and also reminded me of the truth I read in a quote not long ago:

If you are your authentic self, there is no competition.

Beginning Again

I wanted a place to write and express myself where I wouldn't be judged.

So here it is -- my new blog.