Shadows and Gravity

Relationships are very important to me, both personal and professional. I'm someone who truly values my relationships with others, and works hard to always remind myself of the value and importance of the connections I have with those I love. I have had my share of friends, best friends, frenemies, and fair-weather friends, relationships which have all changed over the years, some of which have grown and matured, and others which have withered away into nothingness.
Over the years, I have come to the conclusion that "Fair-Weather" friends are the worst of all.  Like a shadow, a fair-weather friend is present when the conditions are favorable. You can only see them when the sun is shining and things are great. They follow your every move, do the things that you do, go where you go, act as you might act; they will even have the same friends that you do. It's almost hard to shake them sometimes. That is, until things get dark and dreary. When the sunny times are gone, when the bright happy glow of your friendship (or life) has faded and things are gloomy, suddenly that shadow-of-a-friend is nowhere to be found. In an instant, they've disappeared, and when you need them the most they just aren't there. "Fair-Weather" friends are the worst, because you never know how long your relationship will last and you're always waiting for that unexpected, un-forcasted storm to arrive. It is during these storms when it seems as though they've completely abandoned you, leaving you all alone to fend for yourself, to find your way in the dark when it's pouring out and you feel like you're drowning.
I've experienced several of these "seasonal" changes in my relationships which has been difficult. Ultimately, we become quite attached to our "shadows." They become a part of us, a reflection of ourselves and to lose that means losing part of who we are, or who we think we should be. It's hard to loose that person that's so close to you, so connected to you, that you feel no one else will know you quite as well.
Stormy weather doesn't have to be the end. Like any storm, the sun shines again and often results in something beautiful. Whether or not your shadow has left you, it never rains for too long. The darkness fades and the light returns, only to bring new things into your life. I've realized that friends, true lifelong friends last through the best and worst times. They, like Gravity, are a constant and ever-present force in our lives, no matter what the weather. They are there to smile with you when it's sunny, cry with you when it's raining, keep you warm when it's snowing, keep you calm when it's storming, and although they may fade slightly when it's cloudy, they're always there when you need them.
 True friends are priceless to me and I've been blessed to have several in my life. Like a favorite sweater, they are comforting, and reliable, keeping me warm and helping me feel safe. Like Gravity, they keep us grounded and true to ourselves. The funny thing is, your best friends aren't the ones who look like you, talk, or even dress like you, or who do the same things you do. They aren't attached to your every move like the dark and unreliable shadow, but are a separate and independent presence. In my case, my closest friends are all very different  people, but share one very special thing in common: acceptance. They are the friends that love you for who you are no matter what, no matter how stormy the weather. They are the life vest during your darkest hour, and in the most turbulent waters, helping you keep your head above water. The stormiest and most uncertain times in life can sometimes be the most insightful, helping us to realize what's most important, and to realize how blessed we really are.
And so, I've decided to release my shadows, to free myself of those "Fair-Weather Friends." To them, I must say sorry, to the true friends, I say thank you. Because in the sunniest of days and most turbulent storms, I'd much rather have gravity than a fickle shadow...

"Full Hands"

My first born, Avery is almost three. In fact, she more often than not, seems as though she's almost three, going on ten or some other much older age. She's always saying funny things, and seems wise beyond her mere twenty-two months of age.
Being a single parent means being able to juggle absolutely everything at once. I'm like a circus clown, clumsily balancing and tossing around the responsibilities of work, childcare, church, grocery shopping, winterizing the house, getting gas, paying bills, doing the banking, getting the oil changed, and planning my juggling routine for the next day...and being the lone ranger means I dare not drop anything.
Any mom will know that having kids means constantly picking up the trail of disaster, the perpetual mess that follows them anywhere they go. I am always picking up something, just in time for another thing to hit the ground; the tidiness never lasts long, believe me. Sometimes, it's just one other thing you have to stop juggling with, and allow to drop to the ground. Otherwise, you just might exhaust yourself.
Avery often asks me for something, or to hold her in the midst of this tidying-up, to which I reply, "Avery, I can't right now, my hands are full." Being an almost-three-year-old, she tends to rephrase things, stating them in her own new way. I asked her to pick up her toys the other day only to find her shaking her head from side-to-side. Holding a few toys in her hands, she emphatically declared, "No mommy, I can't! I have FULL HANDS!"
 I stopped, realizing suddenly that she had learned this from me, had watched me, and heard me say this to her. What I really mean to say of course, is that I can't at that moment, but might in a few once I'm done with what I'm doing. I realized that I don't want to make her feel as though I don't have time for her, but that once I'm done with my juggling act, I'm all hers. At this point, hardly anyone is here to see our mess, so I'm choosing to drop the ball, so to speak, and allow the mess to be for the time being. After all, it will be there tomorrow. For now, I'll continue my precarious juggling act alone and hope to keep the rest of the balls in the air...and if I fail, if I drop a few, it's no big deal....I'll just pick them back up again, and get back to juggling another day.

Where the Heart Is...

Having just returned from seeing Nate in Mississippi, I have a newfound appreciation and understanding of the term, "Home is where the heart is." It seems so cliche, but I've discovered that it is so very true...
My trip started out on a small plane heading for Memphis, from where I had a connecting flight to Mississippi to see Nate for a few days before he leaves this week for "the place we shall not name." I've done my fair share of traveling over the years, but rarely on my own. I found myself fidgeting in my seat, restless at the anticipation of flying without anyone accompanying me on my journey. After about an hour of this, I desperately wanted to find a way to entertain myself, and ended up singing (silently of course) "99 bottles of beer on the wall" in time for our descent.
Looking out the window nervously, I noticed how beautiful everything looked. Like an enormous patchwork quilt of fields and forests, it was blocked in varying shades of brown and  green with ribbons of dark grey blue streams snaking through it. I sat back and sighed, realizing just how small I am in this vast and beautiful country and how very alone I felt. After my connecting flight delivered me to my final destination, I picked up my rental car and headed for the Naval base to meet Nate.
We spent the next three days enjoying our time together, exploring the sights, and talking more than we had in years. We encountered a multitude of amazingly kind and generous people during those few days, who talked to us, asked us where we were from (our accents must have stood out ) and showed their appreciation for Nate's service. It's incredibly humbling when someone thanks both of us, shakes both our hands, and says they'll pray for Nate and our family.
One person in particular, I will never forget. We visited Keesler Air Force Base to do some shopping and when we were about to leave, Nate noticed a small booth where an elderly woman had tables set up, selling handmade fabric books. There were two in particular that we really liked, and after a few moments, we decided only to purchase one (on a budget, you know). After talking to her for a few minutes and explaining where we were from, and sharing about Nate's deployment, she asked us which other book we had liked and weren't able to decide on. I sheepishly pointed it out, saying that they were indeed all very beautiful. The woman reached over, picked up the book, rolled it up, and placed it in the zip-lock bag with the one we had purchased. Shocked and incredibly embarrassed, I said, "you don't have to do that" to which she replied, "You know what, don't worry about it. I didn't sacrifice much to make these, and you are sacrificing so much." Tears instantly welled up in both our eyes, and I started crying, hugging the woman tightly, feeling overwhelmed with emotion. She then hugged Nate tightly, tearing up herself, and said she would pray for us.
Visiting Nate and sharing these experiences with him has been bittersweet. I arrived back at the house tonight, noticing it's feeling of emptiness and that it doesn't quite feel like home without him. Home is where the heart is, where the people you love reside. It doesn't matter where you are, but that you're together. For now, home is here with the girls even though Nate is gone. Although it feels incomplete, I know that upon his return, this house will feel like home again. Until then, I will piece together my very own patchwork of memories and stories to share with him, quilting them together for his return home.

Arrivals and Departures

Every day is a journey, or so they say. Life is filled with constant changes in travel, in phases of our existence. I like to think of it as a constant flow of arrivals and departures. We arrive at the completion of one life experience, and race through the terminal in time to depart on the next.
My life before marriage and children was one of those phases, a journey of self discovery and hopes of an exciting future. After leaving home for college, I embarked on that journey, departed for parts unknown and hoped for a safe and eventful arrival in my imagined future life. The funny thing about life is that we really don't have as much control as we'd like to think we do. We think we have it all figured out, and then there's a change in the itinerary, and the real driver behind that wheel takes us to parts unknown, to a future we never imagined.
After arriving (or so I thought) to the college experience I had dreamed of, I spent three years wandering aimlessly through classes, parties, and other nonsense, only to depart for home.
I left school on a new journey, one meant for recovery and healing, something unexpected and not exactly what I had planned for. What I found when I arrived home was just that: safety, familiarity, security, and ultimately happiness. That journey brought me to my family, my friends, and ultimately my husband, and now two beautiful little girls. That departure from what I thought I wanted, only helped me to arrive to where I am now, where I know I'm meant to be.
And so, we depart again, on a new excursion, a trip to parts unknown, as Nate is deployed. I can surely say that it's not one I'm looking forward to, but one I know we have to make. As with everything else in life, we'll face it head on, take it as it comes, deal with it the best we can, and try to survive through it. Because at this point, that's all we can do. Through it all, I hope to become a stronger person, a better mom for my girls, and an even better wife for my husband who is sacrificing it all. Life is a journey no matter what the destination, how we get there, or when we arrive. It may not be pretty, people, but I know I will have survived through it one way or another; I will have arrived.

Through Her Eyes

Avery, my oldest will be turning three in January, although you'd never know it based on her stature. She's a petite little thing and is just now wearing 24 month/2T sizes, although I'm willing her into wearing 3T clothing. She is the funniest little kid, and always does such humorous things! Although funny, she has a surprisingly sweet side as well, which comes out of nowhere and shocks me at at times.
Being a "single mom" has truly been an adjustment. Just trying to go for walks with the girls is a challenge, and usually takes about 30 minutes just to get out of the house. The other day, I was horribly unkept and in desperate need of a shower, but decided to put on a hat and head out for a walk anyway (motivation is rare lately). Avery, looking up at me, smiled sweetly and said, "You look pretty mommy!" This was the first time she had said this to me, and I instantly melted. I knelt down and hugged her tightly, trying not to tear up at her kind words.
It's amazing that no matter how bad we think we look, or how bad we feel about ourselves, our children see the best in us and think we're "pretty" or tell us they love us. They don't notice whether we have our makeup on, if our clothing is ironed, or if we even coordinate our shoes with our handbags. They love us for who we are and how we love them, and tell us how beautiful we are when we ourselves can rarely see it. They see us purely, it would seem, and without judgement. I only wish I had the ability to see through her eyes, to view the world as beautiful and safe, to not notice the danger and sadness out there. Her sweetness that day really touched me and made me feel good about myself, even though I know my appearance was far from pretty. The funny thing is, it doesn't really matter what I think:  it's what she thinks that really matters. Her view might be rosy, but I'll take it.

Frenemies

Social networking sites are the "IT" thing these days and it seems that nearly everyone has a Facebook page. I myself am on Facebook and love being able to keep in touch with all of my "friends." It's hard to remember just how anyone in this world kept in touch before.

I enjoy being on Facebook as much as anyone else, but something about it bothers me too. I've found that I've obtained "friends" who really never were my friends in the first place. Some are people from high school who in the past hated me, people from work who barely talk to me, and others who merely know me from somewhere way back when. All of these people have one thing in common, that being that they are most likely "socially stalking" my life, rather than really being my friends. I don't think that the label "friend" should be used to classify someone who you allow access to view your life (because isn't it rude to deny them?) but maybe instead, another title far more appropriate (although I have no recommendations as to what that might be yet...I'll keep you posted :). One idea might be to categorize these "connections" into groups such as Acquaintances, Co-workers, True-friends, Family, and Frenemies. 

Frenemies is a funny word you hear a lot. I kind of like the sound of it, actually. In truth, anyone can be a "Frenemy:" an individual who is a friend and enemy all rolled into one. I actually have many of these it seems. Of course, I am guilty first and foremost of allowing them to BE my "friend", but who can say no? I apparently cannot. I hesitate briefly, then click accept, letting them gain access to my life, my pictures, and everything I am up to even though I'd rather they not know. Why should they? If I were to pass these individuals on the street, they'd probably not even talk to me, and I can honestly say that I would never allow them to watch my children. And so, like spring cleaning, I've decided to clean out my closet of old, purging it of that which I do not want, and no longer need. Frenemies beware!

Relationships are pretty tricky. I have several really close friends whom I love dearly, and who all happen to live far away from me. It's funny though, that no matter what, we still maintain those relationships regardless of how often we all see each other. Relationships change as we go through life and as we ourselves change. Friendships I had in the past which I thought would exist into old age have since withered and died, even though the ghost of that relationship still stalks and haunts my Facebook page. Some people unknowingly admit to it when they say, "I saw your pictures!" but they never actually send you a message or comment on anything. Newsflash: that's stalking. 

To my true friends who are reading this, you know who you are, and I cherish my relationship with each of you. You are my dear friends because you care about me and my life out of love, not curiosity. And so I choose to love you all back and thank each of you for being my true FRIENDS.

Driving without Directions

Any of my close friends who know me well can attest to the fact that I am someone who is extremely loyal, anally organized, a  perfectionist, a control freak and someone who has a great sense of direction: I work hard to keep in touch, keep things in their place, do my best at everything, work hard at my job, and get where I need to go.
About a year or so ago, Nate decided that we needed a Tom Tom. I agreed although, in the back of my mind, I knew I didn't need it. I've always been someone who could find my way anywhere, noting the landmarks along the way...as long as I had driven it once, I could figure it out. I even have a road atlas, but never really use it. Who needs a Tom Tom??
Being the control freak that I am, I also hate being in the passenger seat. I enjoy driving and maintaining control over my journey, knowing I can head home when I need to. I decided to use the silly thing once after convincing myself that it might actually be useful, only to find that I was more confused than without it. Even though I KNEW the way, I found myself constantly checking it and second guessing myself and the route I was taking: I felt lost. This little electronic contraption caused me to doubt myself, to not trust in what I knew to be true. I have since refused to use it, citing irreconcilable differences.
This journey I am currently on is surely one without a road map, Tom Tom, or guiding light. There was no dress-rehearsal, no way to prepare, no itinerary provided. It's like driving blind in the dark without headlights, really. The sheer terror of not knowing what's out there is quite paralyzing. As a control freak, you can understand why this might be hard for me. I want to KNOW what to expect, what is heading my way, and how many rest-stops are along my route.
As with my Tom Tom experience, I'm realizing that I not only have to trust in myself, but to trust that things will work out. I have to let go of my obsessive need to control my circumstances, and allow myself the luxury of letting go and letting someone, or something else drive for once. This journey may be new, foreign, or even somewhat scary, but the landmarks are the same and I believe I'll get there eventually.  I'm accepting the fact that it's okay to be more of a passenger, to see more of my surroundings and appreciate the journey, rather than always driving, focusing on the road ahead, and missing out on everything there is to see. And I'm okay with that....for now.

Peace like a River...

I've often heard the phrase, "Peace like a river" and wondered about it's meaning. I guess for me, I picture a river as being white-capped and turbulent, full of risk and peril. A River is something that you need a boat and life vest for, more like life. Life to me is turbulent: full of risks, dangers, turmoil, and uncertainty. You get up each day, don your life jacket, grab your paddles, and hope for the best. You may not know what lies ahead, but you sure hope that you find your way through it safely and in one piece.
In my mind, I imagine Peace to be like a desert. Although I've never been in a desert, I imagine it to be a vast empty land with nothing around: no distractions, no stress, nothing to do. Sometimes I'd like to having nothing to do, no responsibilities or duties, no rules or regulations. Sometimes I'd like to just walk for days to find water and not be on any kind of schedule. Maybe in this imaginary desert I could stumble across an oasis and have everything I need: solitude, water, clean air, and rest. It's at this oasis that I imagine napping and dreaming and achieving that peace that we all hope for.
Nate will soon be in a desert of his own, although far more real than my imaginary one. His will in fact be far more dangerous, more like a turbulent white-capped river. And so, while I imagine my peaceful desert, I pray for his perilous one and hope that he is embraced in safety and comfort, in strength and ultimately peace-of-mind in knowing that we are here at home, patiently waiting, loving him from afar, and anxiously awaiting his return home.

Changes

Life is full of constant changes. My biggest change is of course, the absence of my husband Nate. With change comes adaptation as well. When something changes we adapt to continue functioning as we otherwise would. Those responsibilities and tasks that he fulfilled while home are now mine (in addition to my already existing ones:) Let's just say that the trash doesn't put itself out. Being ultimately responsible for things can be overwhelming, but there's also comfort knowing that you'll know things will get done....and if not, it can wait until tomorrow.
My two little girls are constantly changing. Avery, who is two is the "big sis" and always has something to say...Ainsley is nine months old and started crawling the day Nate left. Both girls are really happy little kids who bring me lots of joy, a little frustration, and lots of laughs. My biggest fear when Nate left was how this would affect Avery who is a "daddy's girl." I worried that she would cry frequently, asking where he was. So far she has amazed me: she asks where he is sometimes and when I tell her, she simply says, "okay." We did of course come up with a few tool to help the girls deal with his absence. I purchased a Hallmark recordable book and Avery gained a new friend in the form of a Build-a-Bear dog named "Sailor" which both have Nate's voice recorded.
 I personally keep busy with work and my tasks at home. You see, I am a "list person." I love being able to mark off the things I accomplish and in a sense, don't have to worry about any longer. The list however, only helps to keep me busy, distracting me from the underlying loneliness that I feel when I am by myself or experiencing a moment of desperation when the girls are in "hooligan mode" and I am unable to say, "here, you take the kids." I am realizing though, that it's important to not let my lists run my life. I am learning to accept that I cannot change my circumstances, and that I should enjoy the moment and let the laundry and the dishes wait until tomorrow.
 In the midst of change, it seems as though it's those things that are familiar which help to keep us grounded: a routine, a task, a list of things to do, or a familiar voice in a storybook at bedtime. I know the year ahead may be rough but I have high hopes for the three of us and know that yes, change really can be a good thing.

Welcome to my...blog

So, I've never really been keen on the whole BLOG thing. I always thought it was a bit odd how people could just pour out their heart and soul and share it with everyone. I recently had a change of heart...
As a wife and mother of two I am constantly busy with the daily challenges that fall in my lap, the current one (and biggest) being the deployment of my husband, who is in the Navy. Our daughters, who are 2 1/2 and 9months keep me on my toes when I'm not at my full time job as an RN. Being suddenly thrust into a life of single parenthood, I realized that I really needed an outlet for my thoughts and feelings, since my husband isn't around to hear me. So, over the next year (and, maybe beyond that) I am going to be blogging with the rest of 'em, and hopefully find some comfort in being able to express myself a little. To those of you following this, I thank you and  hope you enjoy it :)
Emily