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Patient Hope

Posted in FAMILY, The Kids, WONDER, tagged #dickinson, #janeausten, #theminiwheats, #wonder, Graduation, Hope, patience on May 6, 2016| Leave a Comment »

What a week our household ended April with! What a wonder-filled week!

The week began with our youngest daughter starting her final practicum, in her quest to complete her Special Education Teaching Assistant (SETA) course.

This time she is placed in a high school, even working with a couple of students who were actually born before her. Challenge is the key God uses, most often, to unlock our most hidden gifts. I pray she opens her door wide and shares her strength, building her character, and using it as a tool to open the locks on her the students she encounters.

Though she intends to continue her education, she will soon be unleashed from this program, certified to work with those students in the margins. Using what she has learned, and who God created her to be, to do her job. She will do her job so very well, for she has been gifted to see strengths in the weak.

I know she is eyeing freedom, desiring to share an apartment with friends, living her life independent from mom and dad.

Last Monday night I sat in a dark gymnasium, heart in my throat, as I anticipated the start of the high school play in which my son was acting.

The story, by George Orwell, called 1984, has been a time of stretching for my boy-man. My ‘baby boy’ traded in his sweet and affectionate nature for the pure evil of O’Brian. Each performance he had to get in touch with his carnal dark side … yelling, torturing, destroying.

A couple of weeks ago it was getting to him, greatly. The character of O’Brian was invading him, extinguishing the light with it’s smothering darkness. I prayed. I asked others to pray. Then, last week, the dark was being pushed out by the light.

The most heart-warming moment of the week was when, as I was chatting with a mom of another character, who I had not seen or spoken to in months. She asked how my son was, because, just days before, her daughter came home saying that they really needed to pray for him, because his character was getting to him. Is there any greater gift, for a parent, than to be told someone is praying for your child?

His efforts and the cost to him payed off in full, as he interpreted well Owell’s character. His (5) performances were believable and authentic. The entire cast depicted the evils of this story so well, and the entire cast, crew and director were as authentic in their support and care for each other.

He is now, once again, fully himself. O’Brien is gone, may his character be gone forever, may his lessons forever be remembered.

That week ended in an event centre, watching our eldest cross the stage, have her tassel moved from one side to another, receive a diploma, and pose for a picture.

That short walk was the culmination of six years of hard work … her hard work. I found myself hearing the song If it Hadn’t Been for You, from the musical, Anne of Green Gables, as her name was read to cross the stage.

It was she, who earned the double major (Sociology and Psychology) degree, by studying hard, writing mountains of papers, and working numerous jobs along the way, to pay for half of her schooling costs (the government of Canada helped with the rest … but this too falls in her lap).

As Miss Stacey said, “why she did it herself, with imagination and determination”

I hold on to a fair measure of parent guilt, for encouraging her to pursue education at such an expensive university, and having little to contribute to it’s costs. Though I do know she received a wonderful education, by the relationships she has made, and will continue to have with her profs, who educated, encouraged, challenged and cared for my girl.

The world is now an open book to her. She is well on her way, making plans for the future, her future. Her plans, though not solidified, are to move away. This makes my heart ache, and soar all at the same time. For “hope is the thing with feathers” (Dickinson).

These are the memories of that wonder-filled week. That week that was the culmination of much patience, for each of my children. The practise of patience will continue, throughout our lives. May my three have the patience to pursue what they hope for, all the days of their lives.

Romans-8.25

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Are you Brave?

Posted in GOD, life, The Hubby, WONDER, tagged #areyoubrave, #fearandanxiety, #isaiah42:16, #monstersunderthebed, Alone, Fear., Plato, yoda on May 18, 2015| 2 Comments »

When I was a child, I thought that to be brave was to go in my room and night, and actually look under my bed to see if there were monsters there.

When I was a teen, I thought that to be brave was walking home alone, in the quiet dark, after a night of babysitting.

When I was a young adult, I thought that to be brave was to stay home alone when my hubby went out of town.

Brave has many faces, but on each face a fear of something, known or unknown, is written. The fears of childhood are the foundation for the fears of the rest of our lives. If I re-read my own expressions of what it was to be brave when I was younger, they are all centered on two fears; fear of the dark, and fear of being alone.

I believe that they are universal fears, I believe they are innate fears. I believe the
two fears are really one fear, for to be afraid of the dark is always diminished by
being in the presence of another.

From when we are born, we experience times alone. From our earliest beginnings in our mother’s womb, we experience dark. Yet those two fears go with us, and in some, intensify as we get older.

There is something about nighttime that can cause doubts, discomfort and fears to arise more easily. Add to that being alone, and the night can seem endless and hopeless.

For a child, being taken to bed, being tucked in, being reassured by a loving person that they are safe and that the nighttime will not last forever, can lessen their fear of the dark. If that does not work, having someone to accompany them in the dark, until they fall off to sleep will eliminate any further cries of fear.

For myself, as an adult, I hear far fewer noises, I sleep far easier, when hubby is in the house with me. His presence assures me that I am not alone, and the dark no longer has power over me.

If we are to be brave, we need to understand that the presence of another can be the light that takes away our fear of the dark, because their presence itself is like a light.

God’s message to us all in Isaiah 42:16 is “I will turn the darkness into light before them and make the rough places smooth. These are the things I will do; I will not forsake them.” Whenever we think that we are alone, we need to remember that the One who never breaks His promises to us, is with us. Him in our lives means we are never fully alone, and the darkness is eliminated by the light of his presence.

Plato said, “we can easily forgive a child who is afraid of the dark; the real tragedy of life is when men are afraid of the light.” The light of the world has come to illuminate our steps, he is like that parent by the bed of a fearful child, the friend walking you home in the dark, the person on the other side of the bed (snoring like a band saw), but He never leaves those who choose to brave and trust the presence of his light.

“Fear is the path to the dark side.”
Yoda

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Good Mother

Posted in FAMILY, Love, WONDER, tagged Love, Mother's Day on May 10, 2015| Leave a Comment »

Mother’s Day is so … daunting, if you are a child.

Mother’s Day is so … stressful, if you are a husband of a mother (so my hubby says).

Mother’s Day is so … lonely, if you are a mom, whose child is not longer on this earth.

Mother’s Day is so … full of hurt, if motherhood has not happened for you.

Mother’s Day is so … beautiful, if you are blessed to be a mom (so, I say … no gifts required, but time together is always appreciated).

But for this blog, I write, not as a mom (as if that is possible), but as a daughter. And, this is a daunting thing to do.

When I think of my mom, I think of the words of a Jane Arden song, “Good Mother”:

“I’ve got money in my pocket,

I like the color of my hair 😉 ,

I’ve got a friend who loves me,

I’ve got a house, got a car,

I’ve got a good mother,

and her voice is what keeps me here”

But, what does ‘good mother’ mean to me, as I think about my mom?

She didn’t do it all right. She didn’t wear pearls, like June Cleaver. She didn’t have warm baked cookies for us when we came home from school. She didn’t read to us at bedtime every night. She didn’t keep her cool at all times. She didn’t drop what she was doing, every time I wanted her attention. She doesn’t always have wisdom to share (advice, though, … always). She didn’t work into the night sewing, and cleaning and whatever else that Proverbs 31 chick was supposed to do.

She is not perfect! Which is okay to me, because I am a mother, and I am so aware that ‘perfect’ and ‘mother’ do not go together (and surely, I was not perfect, as a daughter either).

But here is what she did right, in my mind:

She, despite being single and poor, chose to give birth to me.

She chose to marry, not just a man who would love her, but one who would be the best father to me, and to my brothers, that they would have in the years that followed.

She chose to do what she could, by caring for others children, to contribute financially to our family during the years when interest rates soared to near 20%.

She encouraged relationships with the parents of herself and our dad.

She celebrated … everything! If there was reason, there was cake!

She made birthdays special for my brothers and I.

She worked hard, with our dad, to maintain a marriage that has survived just over 40 years.

She loves us, all.

It would be so easy, too easy, to pick apart the problems, the mistakes, the weaknesses … the sins of our mother. But that does nothing to benefit anyone … that does nothing for her, that does nothing for us, for me.

She taught me to be honest, trustworthy, kind, sensitive and good to others, to be myself, and that it is a good thing to love God. I am, flaws and all, who I am because of my upbringing, because of my good mother. I believe my own children will only love me, in proportion to how I have modeled my love for my own mother. The jury is still out on how that is going to go.

But I know that I love her. I know that I respect her. I know that I could never know what it was to walk in her shoes, because I have been blessed to have grown up in a different time, with different parents, and different circumstances.

I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she did the best she could, with the resources that were available to her. And I know that, one thing is for sure, she has loved me from my earliest beginnings and will until we part on this earth.

“I’ve got a good mother, and her voice is what keeps me here,

Feet on ground, heart in hand, facing forward,

Be yourself”

* this is a re-post from four years ago … but still so true.

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Love = Pussy Willows

Posted in FAMILY, life, Love, Marriage, tagged #givingandreceiving, #pussywillows, #wonder, Dad, gifts, Mom on April 20, 2015| 3 Comments »

This is a re-post from about four years ago … but the memories shared here are remembered every spring.

I lost it, and I don’t know where …

I lost it, and I don’t know why …

I lost it, and I’ll never get it back …

It was my creation, my gift, and there is no way to ever fully re-create it 😦

Now, if you know me, you might think I am talking about my losing my marbles … and … you are probably right. But the loss I am talking about is my original post called “Love = Pussy Willows.”

I wrote it, as a gift for my parents, who DID both read the original… before it got lost in cyberspace. But, I wanted to keep it … for me, for my kids. So that when my mom and dad are no longer on this earth, we could be reminded of the legacy of thoughtful, kind and even romantic love, that they shared for each other, and left for us to duplicate in our own lives.

And so, here I go, trying to re-create that which I’ve already created, and is now gone. I feel a bit like I am one of the scientists who created/cloned Dolly the sheep. I am consulting my sieve-like brain cells for what I can recall (not much hope there). I am mixing memories, words and thoughts with the hopes of a carbon copy result. I even consulted others who also read my post, for what stood out to them. The problem is, that as a writer/creator I cannot duplicate my creation perfectly – I may have all of my childhood memories, phrases I remember writing and the help of others, but I can not go back in time.

I cannot duplicate the humidity or temperature of weather on the day I wrote it. I cannot duplicate the food I ate, the exercise I did or didn’t do, or my hormonal levels of that day. I cannot perfectly replicate the motivation I had for writing it.

So, all that said … just like Dolly the sheep, I might have all the exact pieces to clone my post … but, me, as the creator, will never, ever feel it is possible to look on the clone as anything but a cheap imitation of the real thing.

But, all that said, her I go … again.

My parents will celebrate their 40th anniversary on July 24 of this summer. I am so proud of them … (I’ve been married about half that, and I know that each day provides a new opportunity to re-choose my hubby … and he to re-choose me … and lets get real, there are many days we would like to return the other for a refund).

Mom and Dad are a fairly average married couple. They have loved, fought, struggled, and survived each other.

I was blessed to know romantic, but true, deep love and affection through them … and pussy willows.

My memories of pussy willows are so vivid, so clear, and they go as far back as when I was four or five … but they happened for many years!

In the spring my dad would be driving down a country road, usually taking out weekly trash to the ‘Dump’, or driving to my grandmothers house. And, all of a sudden he would pull over to the side of the road and get our out of the car.

Then he would be in the ditch, unaware of the presence of water, or spiders or snakes (yuck!). And he would reach out for what he was after … pussy willows.

Now this was the spring time ritual for my dad, And, as an adult, I have to say he has the eye for the perfectly developed (not too soon, not too late) pussy willows. I always seem to find them as they are just opening, or once they have gone to seed!

But the ritual didn’t end with a bouquet in his thorn punctured hands, and soggy wet feet. No, mom had her part to play as well.

When dad arrived home, with his freshly cut bouquet, he would beckon mom to the door.

And, every year her response was the same, “Oh Denny, pussy willows.” and then that ever-embarrassing (for any child who has hoped and prayed that the stork truly was responsible for the reproduction of humans) hug and kiss … and gaze into each others eyes (I can hear the adolescent within me say “blech”).

Then mom would scurry to the ‘special’ golden-yellow vase, where last years bouquet of pussy willows (cob webs and all), would still be. She would discard the old, and arrange the new bouquet to perfection. Then, the special golden-yellow vase would be set out on display.

The whole experience of the the pussy willows sticks in my head because of how they were GIVEN, and how they were RECEIVED, by each of my parents. If my mom had pestered my dad to go get her a new bouquet … the receiving wouldn’t have been as a gift, but a duty. And if my mom stuck the bouquet in just any old vase, and discarded them after a ‘respectable’ amount of time … the giving wouldn’t have been received in the manner they were given.

I love this way that my parents, unaware, taught me about giving and receiving. And I hope they can receive this post in the spirit it was intended … that of a gift to show my love.

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Depression

Posted in GOD, life, The Kids, WONDER, tagged Depression, GOD, Ink Stains, Pain, Redemption, Revelations, Sadness, Sorrow on August 13, 2014| Leave a Comment »

“Depression is an ink that stains everything it touches
A black hole that swallows all that comes near”
-The Beaver (movie)

I do not personally know the truth or fallacy in the quote above. I do know that as I look back at times when I was sad, when I was feeling downcast those words are so true. Looking back on those periods in my life, I can see the stains that were left on those around me, even today.

It is easy to forget, or not even be aware, that we are part of a bigger world than just ourselves, and that things that happen to us, affect those around us. It is the relational evidence of the scientific fact that every action has an equal and opposite reaction. So when we are overwhelmed with pain or sorrow or frustrations, we are not the only ones to feel the effects … all those closest to us feel our reactions, and then they, in turn, also respond.

As a mom (I cannot speak for dads) I am naturally predisposed to guilt. I can look over the well-intended mothering that I have done, and see errors that I made that will surely result in therapy for my kids in years to come. Yes, I have forced them to clean their plates, at times. Yes, I yelled at them more than once (a day). Yes, I sent them to their rooms to await discipline … and forgot them. Yes, I made them clean their rooms. Yes, they are all aware that that their not at all skinny parents have skinny dipped (that one may send them to therapy for longer and sooner than any other, if their faces turning green when they discovered this is any indicator).

There are certain periods in our life together, when I thought I was hiding my own disappointments and sadness with life’s circumstances so well, and as I look back, and look at changes in their lives, I am aware that too were stained by my sadness. It is such a guilt-ridden thing when I see those stains that they wear, because of me. My inability, at times, to manage and deal with events in my life better, have permanently stained my children …

I am coming full circle now, though. And I am looking to see purpose in suffering, I am looking to see good from bad. I am looking to see that something positive, not just negative, can come from those stains. And I am beginning to see it.

I see a daughter’s sensitivity to a friend who is being stained by sadness and illness in her home. I see a son’s expression of his friends need of God. I see a daughter’s desire to go to those in desperate pain and need, in a place I would not want to go, to show love and mercy. Those times of sorrow for me, that were permanently etched into the beings of my children, have altered their hearts. They have been able to take the stains that I have caused, and are wearing them as certificates of accomplishment and experience. And these stains are being used to reach out to others, more desperate than their mother ever was.

The redemptive way that God can take our pain, and mold it into something beautiful for others is something I do not expect to ever understand this side of heaven. But, I am thankful that the stains I may have caused, have not swallowed the futures of my children.

“God Himself will be among them, and He will wipe away every tear from their eyes;

and there will no longer be any death; there will no longer be any mourning, or crying, or pain;

the first things have passed away.”

And He who sits on the throne said, “Behold, I am making all things new.”

And He said, “Write, for these words are faithful and true.”

Then He said to me, “It is done. I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end.

I will give to the one who thirsts from the spring of the water of life without cost.

He who overcomes will inherit these things, and I will be his God and he will be My son (daughter).

Revelation 21:4-7

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Speak My Language

Posted in FAMILY, WONDER, tagged #speakmylanguage, #tobeknown, #walkinmymoccasins, Daughter, Encouragement, Understanding on August 8, 2014| 2 Comments »

English is my first language … okay it is my only language. Except that I am female … so there is an ‘other’ language … it is non-verbal, and sometimes believed to be a transcendent language. It is the language of how we feel.

(This is where my hubby will skip down to the bottom of the page to see if there is anything really worth reading in my post today 😉 He loves that fact that we females think with our feelings. That poor man, he has to live with three, highly hormonal, estrogen-filled, instinctual, gut-feeling, eye-leaking, heart leaning ladies! Imagine if we were to all be PMS’ing at the same time? But what is worse … and far more common, is that when one of us finishes PMS’ing, another starts … three weeks running. That poor man has only one week a month to live peacefully in his own home. But, I digress …)

I know that I am ‘normal’ as a female, in how I think with my head as well as my feelings. I am also using enough brain cells when I am thinking with my head, to know that how I ‘feel’ is not always an accurate representation of reality. There are so many times that I have met a new person, and ‘felt’ a certain way about that person (negatively), only to be (happily) proved wrong later on.

All that said, is it not the most delicious experience in the world when you come across that person who speaks your language? When they ‘know’ you, get you, understand your heart? To me, it is like a piece of heaven on Earth when that happens. And, it happened just last night!

I fell into bed late one night, knowing that sleep had already started to fall on me. But, because I was, at that time, a slave to work-related emails, I picked up my phone to see if there are any responses to emails I had sent. And, like good, ol’ fashioned ‘snail mail’ I saw in my ‘in’ box, not a work-related response, not an account summary (aka BILL), not an ad from a store, but a note from one of my daughters! It was the equivalent of receiving a letter from a loved one in the mailbox (which, of course, it is).

The following, was what I opened …

"Is there any way I can help you in the next few days?
Your helping me so much & are already so busy so I was just wondering.:)"

The words I read made my heart skip a beat! And it wasn’t just that her email reminded me of how bad grammar can be passed down from generation to generation! It was how her email spoke to me of how she understood where I am was, at that very moment … she got me … she was not just speaking my language, but she was ‘hearing’ my language too.

My response to her was that she already did help me, just by asking if she could … she blessed my heart, and my soul and my mind … because I knew when I read that short but sweet note, that she saw, that she heard, that she ‘felt’ where I was at, and was willing to offer assistance.

Woohoo! I rested peacefully that night! I went to bed with the confidence that someone else under my roof understood where my moccasins were at, and she was willing to walk in them for and with me. And, it was good!

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Momma Guilt

Posted in FAMILY, life, The Kids, women, WONDER, tagged #mommaguilt, #todolists, Life, Mothering, Parenting, Regrets on July 24, 2014| 5 Comments »

*Though written three years ago, Momma Guilt continues for this Momma … I bet it does for us all … and continues to the end of our Earthly lives.

Once upon a time, there was a girl who was growing up. And this little girl had dreams, aspirations, hopes and goals for her future. She dreamed of one day getting married, having babies, and doing it all just like she has seen on TV.

Unfortunately, she was born in 1969, and the TV moms who she had modeled for her … were perfect!

There was June Cleaver, who, other than the obscure name her son Beaver had … was perfect.

Then there was Marion Cunnigham, who was ALWAYS making homemade goodies, not only for HER kids, but for all their friends!

Then there was Clair Huxtable, she made the concept of working mom look so easy! And she even had her, always loving, obstetrician hubby, who did most of the cleaning and cooking!

Ah, and then Caroline Ingalls … that woman could fix a fence, mend a sock, and chase Laura all over the prairies, and still get an enormous homemade dinner on the table, with enough to feed the weary traveler!

And, finally, Jane Jetson … even in space-time animation June Cleaver lives … and in size 8 (I have worn size 8, by the way … it just had a ‘1’ in front of the ‘8’).

All of these women had the same things in common …

– they were all slim … I am green with envy

– they were all pretty … so much to aim for

– they all were perfectly accessorized … this is where my love of my (faux) pearls originated

– they always made their hubbys happy … sigh

– their kids always loved and appreciated them … momma guilt!

The other day, I found myself deep in the mires of MOMMA GUILT … ever been there, ladies?

It had been a busy week, with another busy week to come (and so on, and so on, and so on …). So, Saturday was full with a To Do list that had no hope of getting done.

While hubby was finishing up his sermon (because he had spent the week dealing with ‘immediate’ stuff), and hoping to get some yard work done, I was to take our son to a birthday party, and get a few errands completed.

I got very few of those errands done, as I decided to throw in ‘dress shopping’ … grrr! I had hoped that the few ounces I’ve lost would make that a more enjoyable process … NOT! I think what I would need to lose is the whole, freaking, left side of my body! But, I digress!

Then it was time to pick my son up from the party … and I was scrambling … because I was late … again!

When I got there I was pounced upon by son … ‘mom can so-and-so and I get together today?’ Now, I admit, I hate lack of planning, on a good day, but, when my To Do list is long, my brain cells cannot even begin to think about adding more to it! So, I said … ‘NO.’

And this is where momma guilt began … Not really, of course, because that is with me ALL the time! You see, I have this dream in my mind of getting the ‘Mom of the Year’ award … and I have had that annual award … on January 1, until 12:01am, when I blow it. But, I digress … again.

Lets just say the ride home was very quiet … and I felt it! When I did try to converse and soothe, I was met with ‘but Mom …’ And, my momma guilt let me feel the full weight of his sorrow. Not because his present sorrow was so valid, but because my momma guilt is so close to the surface for me when it comes to my son.

– I was home fully with my daughters … I started back to work before my son entered kindergarten.

– I taught my daughters how to cook, to sew, to read … my son, not so much.

– He is eleven, and I still haven’t taught him how to ride a bike 😦

– I have rarely gone on school field trips with him … his sisters … many!

– I rarely play any ball sports with him.

Wow! Can I wallow, or what? Suffice it to say, that on this particular day, EVERY violation, every failure, every fault I have ever made, in the life of my son, I remembered and felt. Also, suffice it to say, I threw my own pity party, lasting most of the entire day! And, my To Do list … not so much got done.

Once I had shed my guilt-ridden tears, went out on my own (that is the key … on my own) to get groceries, had a good dinner (thanks to the grocery store providing fresh bread and roast chicken), talked to my mom on the phone (I don’t need to tell her whats happening … just hearing her voice makes me feel better), and played a very neck-and-neck game of chess with my son … the day was seeming brighter.

It’s amazing how taking the time to see how his video game system works, and playing a game with him seems to help us to reconnect once again.

I know I will never get that elusive ‘Mom of the Year’ award, but the good night hug (that just about asphyxiated me), along with an eye to eye, ‘Mom, I love you so much,’ from my boy made my momma guilt fade …

Take that June Cleaver, Marion Cunningham, Caroline Ingalls, Clair Huxtable and yes, even you Jane Jetson!

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Entertaining an Angel

Posted in canada, FAMILY, GOD, life, The Hubby, The Kids, women, WONDER, tagged #angelsunaware, #entertaininganangel, #pregnancyloss, Angels, Comfort, Life on July 22, 2014| 5 Comments »

Sometimes … the past comes back to haunt, and once in a while … it comes back to soothe and reassure.

It was a sunny, warm spring day. Hubby and I had packed our modern picnic lunch (also known as fast food, picked up en route to the park), and were heading to a local park with our 20’ish month old daughter.

We drove until we found a park that we had not been to before (and I do not remember ever returning to again). The park was large, with a soccer field and baseball diamond towards the back. Parking was at the front, near the street. Also, towards the front was a small playground area with swings, and a sandbox. And near the playground were just a few picnic tables and benches.

Our daughter was very eager to get to the sandbox … we were very eager to eat our fast food picnic lunch, before the hot and crisp fries became cold and flopsy. And so, she played, and we ate … all of us enjoying the respite that a park provides.

And then, there she was …

A little girl had arrived at the sandbox, seemingly out of nowhere. She was a blond pre-schooler, who seemed older than her years. As quickly as she appeared, she befriended our daughter, and the two of them played, in the sandbox and on the swings, as though they had known each other all of their lives.

As we enjoyed watching their play with each other, we finally realized that this delightful little girl did not seem to have an adult with her. When we asked her who she was there with she pointed to the baseball game, happening towards the back of the park, and said, “they’re over there.” Although we thought it odd for her parents to allow her to be so far from them, at such a young age, we felt we had no alternative, but to believe her.

The two girls sat on the swings, and we responded to their requests to push them. As hubby and I pushed, we marveled at how the two looked so similarly, they could be sisters. Their blond hair swaying in the breeze, and their blue eyes shining with delight, their contagious giggles. Why, they could be … sisters …

And it hit us both … they could be sisters. They looked so much alike, their age difference … why that delightful little girl could be the same age as our first baby, who had never made it to live with us.

It had happened over three years before. At four months into our first pregnancy … the baby, our first baby, died (this wasn’t to be our first such loss, as over the years it was to happen four more times). We never knew the gender of that child, but we had named it, to provide for ourselves some bit of identity. We had decided on the name Alison, because it could be a boy, or a girl’s name. The name is an old one, meaning noble or truth.

The two girls continued to play happily, until it was time for us to leave.

Then we asked the little girl her name … and she smiled at us, and replied, “Alison.”

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What Women Want … the Finale

Posted in life, Love, The Hubby, WONDER, tagged #whatwomenwant, Life, Marriage, Men, Women on July 15, 2014| 2 Comments »

Well this has been more difficult than I had counted on, when I first embarked on a five part series called ‘what women want’. So … if I, as a woman, struggle to know what it is that women desire most, maybe it is unfair to expect that mere men would know what we want.

To recap my five part series, what women want is …

– to be known

– to be pursued

– to be loved … and told so

– walk in my shoes … to be understood

– forever … happily ever after

Really aren’t all of those things desired, yearned for, wanted by men as well? Although it might be easy to write off all males in the stereotype of all they want is sex (and there are a few who fit that box … as there are women, who also fit into that box). I believe that the majority of men do want what women want.

For anyone, to be known (as in knowing HIS most desired success, or knowing HER greatest fear) is something that can only come from being a student of that person. To be truly known does not happen because a person ‘advertises’ his or her deepest desires, it is instead, the one person studying the other so consciously that they can know intimacy with the other.

To be pursued, although I do believe that men are more naturally the ‘pursuer’, is something that both sexes respond positively to. Ladies, send your guy a suggestive text message, one day he is out (at work, at ‘the game’, at a meeting, with the guys), and just see how well he responds to being pursued … just sayin’!

I love you is a non-gender-specific phrase! It can be said by both women AND men. Now, I expect it might be ‘easier’ for women to say (maybe because we often ‘give’ to others what we desire to receive) … but guys, we need to hear it! And ladies, you are so not on easy street yet … try a new variation of ‘I love you’ to your sweetie … try saying ‘I so respect you when/for/because …’ For a man to hear that he is respected, is probably the equivalent to a women hearing ‘I love you when/for/because …’

So her shoes have pointy toes, and high heels (which you guys so love I’ve heard, because of how it makes the female leg look) … walk in those pretty babies … So his shoes … STINK … ladies, you will never fully understand why they are in the shape they are, if you don’t get to know how your own feet feel in them! Really ladies, that sullen, wordless, grumpy, male that walks in your door tonight might have had struggles and problems (or maybe he’s happy … TOO HAPPY for you at that moment … maybe he’s experienced the greatest successes, passed the greatest tests) that he will never open up and tell you like YOUR girlfriend would. If you don’t know the details (and oh, how we women love the details) of why he is the way he is, try to understand how you might want to be received if you’ve had ‘a day’. Put those over-sized, smelly shoes on your feet, and start sharing his burdens and joys.

Happily ever after … nope, I’ve never heard a male EVER say, hint or insinuate that he desired that! But the security of a mutually beneficial, mutually loving, mutually cared for relationship … where HE can be the HERO, the STUD MUFFIN, the MAN … now that is something a man could want. But for him to be all of that means that … we (gulp) women need to make sure he is feeling like ‘the MAN’ … and that responsibility, ladies, is on our shoulders. Sure we appreciate what our guys do for us … but do we tell them? Do we sing their praises? Do we pump up their egos? Ladies, if we want happily ever after, we need to communicate that forever with us is not a life sentence, but a lifetime achievement award … and that winning it requires the concerted efforts of two!

And that is really what it comes down to … two very different (often very opposite) individuals, who express themselves, and their needs in very different languages trying to find a place, somewhere in the middle, where both persons needs and wants and desires can all be met. It is a juggling act … and one that (from my pointy-toed shoes) seems to be an awful lot of effort, with no guarantees of success. But, I am confident that when the efforts are coming from both side, eventually they meet somewhere in the middle. And a brand new (often far better than ever dreamed or imagined) entity is formed … and it is good!

And that is what women AND men want …

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There’s not One of Them I’d Swap (most of the time)

Posted in FAMILY, WONDER, tagged FAMILY, Life, Wonder on July 2, 2014| Leave a Comment »

My favorite song from Sesame Street is playing in my head …

When I was a kid (and an avid Sesame Street show watcher), I was convinced that it was about my family. We, too, had a sister (that’s me), and two brothers, and a mother and a pop.

And now, as an adult, and mom, we have five people in our family. We have TWO sisters, and a brother, and a mother (that’s me), and a pop. And there’s not one of them I’d swap (most of the time … lets face it, we are all so very human)!

It will be an interesting summer, with our daughter working at a camp for kids with cancer, our son spending most of his summer at a camp on work crew and our other daughter traveling, as well as volunteering for a week at a camp. It will be a rare thing this summer for all five of us to be all together.

All together is a beautiful place to be. I love all of the members in our family (not always do we ‘like’ each other, but we do ‘love’ each other).

But then there are times like … oh, maybe when all five of us are in a hot car without air conditioning (for almost three bloody hours), on a day when the temperature is well over 40 degrees … then I think of swapping (or at least opening the door and pushing someone out) … not that we have experienced that … just sayin’.

There’s about four and a half years between our first two, and one would think that there are too many years between them to have anything to argue about … not true. Then we had our son two years after daughter number two, and one would think being opposite genders would make it easier for them to live together … not true. Then hubby and I, well we chose each other, couldn’t wait to get married (vowed to love, and honor, and blah, blah, blah), surely we could co-habitate peacefully … no comment!

Whatever the number, whatever the make-up of ones family, the presence of conflict, and pressure, and frustrations, along with a need for individual ‘space’ (and I’m not talking the final frontier) are going to live along within that family unit.

Sometimes, I think pre-arranged marriages are a brilliant idea … at least then we could have someone to blame (other than ourselves) for the frustrations one might have with their spouse … not that I have any frustrations with mine, of course. Heck, what am I saying we do blame our inlaws for the flaws in our spouses anyway … not that I would, of course.

But flaws abound in every relationship, in every individual, in every family. We all have those times when we are riding the ship of smooth sailing, and then, like a bowl full of bad clams, the nasties come back up.

And, that’s just life.

But spending the time working through those nasties, together

… that’s just family.

And,

“there are five people in my family,

and there’s not one of them I’d swap”

(most of the time 😉 )

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