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.