Category Archives: Forgiveness

Strength in numbers and my personal #metoo

18 Wednesday Oct 2017

Posted by in Forgiveness, Memories, Past, Peace, Personal Challenges, Personal health, Sexual Harassment/Abuse, Stress & Anxiety, Suffering, Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , , , , ,

“Beauty provokes harassment, the law says, but it looks through men’s eyes when deciding what provokes it.” ~ Naomi Wolf, The Beauty Myth

 
My father was a traveling salesman for a book publishing company. Part of his compensation package included a leased company vehicle that he would sign for every few years. We had recently moved from Hopkinton, MA to a rural Central Ohio town in the summer of 1986, and I remember the day he picked up his new van like it happened only moments ago. Inside the car dealership, the lights were so bright it hurt my eyes and the air smelled of stale doughnuts, burnt coffee and chemical-laden air freshener. While my father signed paperwork and smoked a few Marlboro Reds with the representative, outside, my siblings and I were restless for being there so long and stayed with my mom waiting in the parking lot for our father to return with the keys and drive the new ride home.

As if they’d know one another their entire lives, my father and the sales representative sauntered outside in the afternoon sun, smiling and laughing, probably sharing stories of the sales trade. My father introduced each one of us and the salesman kept his sideways glance fixed directly on me, when out of his mouth came the words I will never forget, about being a knockout of a redhead, those long legs of mine, advising my father he better watch out with me and the boys that would no doubt be hanging around, and maybe he’d bring me back in a few years for a test drive with him and my own car?

I was ten-years-old when this inappropriate salesman thought it was funny and completely allowable to take note of my young-girl looks and dream of my future physical stature, giving no regard to my blushing face, nor my father beside him. His lingering gaze bore holes of shame through me and his unflinching smile was sinister sweet. Back then, I was too young to understand the implications and innuendos spoken that day. After all, I was only in the fifth grade. Yet, the entire presence of that tasteless salesman–including the outfit he was wearing, his moustached and confident face, smug demeanor, and crushingly detrimental words–have haunted me for over thirty years.

My late father was a good and decent man–absolutely not perfect–but, good, decent, and protective of his children and he handled the embarrassing situation with dignity. And you can be assured that we never saw that salesman again. Though, a few years later, when it was time to exchange company cars, I begged to stay at home and read my book, to which my father did not argue, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

Fueled by the news in Hollywood of harassment and abuse that too many women have sustained, I’m sure you’re aware by now of the hashtag #metoo that’s swirling around social media and inviting women to share their personal stories of sexual harassment and abuse. Within my own circle of friends and family, it is disheartening to learn how much pain has been inflicted and endured in the name of sex. I would be remiss if I didn’t mention, in solidarity with my sister-friends, that at ten-years-old, that sleazy car salesman without filter nor decency nor couth, was not the first male to assert his sexual advances or desires over me, nor would he be the last. Though, there are some stories I am not willing to share, and this is my prerogative, while willingly choosing to not let their egotistical, sick, dominating power clutch hold of me forever. I have forgiven, but it’s difficult to forget.

As a caveat to my story, I feel compelled to write and say to all of my readers, that despite my personal stories, devastating experiences, and real struggles with the type of boys and men that harass and abuse, I have known more boys and men in my lifetime that are good, kind, decent, loving, protective, and respectful. Let’s not forget that for as many abusers there are in the world, there is still abounding love, light, and hope around us, and boys and men who will work with us to fight against the social and moral injustices of sexual harassment and abuse.

If you are struggling with your own story of sexual harassment, abuse, or violence and are in need of help, please contact a local therapist specially trained in this type of trauma. You may also contact RAINN or call the National Sexual Assault Hotline at 800.656.HOPE.

 

“You are stronger than you know.” ~ Lori Osterman

 

Advertisements

Don’t let the suffering break you

06 Friday Oct 2017

Posted by in Forgiveness, Peace, Personal Challenges, Perspective, Prayer, Suffering, Tough days

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

, , , , , , , , ,

“If you want a love message to be heard, it has got to be sent out. To keep a lamp burning, we have to keep putting oil in it.” ~ St. Teresa of Calcutta

 

Needless, senseless, unbelievably gut-wrenching, horrific suffering defines the week we’ve had in America. I think we can all agree on that point. Closer to home, closer to my own heart, it has been a week for terrible and tragic news, as well. A dear friend of The Girl’s was admitted to ICU with pneumonia related to her chronic illness. A family member went into premature labor, just shy of 21 weeks pregnant, knowing her daughter would die in her arms. A child of mine is having seizures, and so a litany of tests loom on the horizon for us at Children’s Hospital, and my resolve is weakening. More suffering, that I’m not at liberty to share, has occurred to others I love, and it’s becoming increasingly difficult to make sense of it all; to endure, to persevere in hope.

Certainly, I cannot be the only person feeling like I have been trudging through a deep, glutinous mud, fighting my way to get beyond this week, reaching out for someone, something to pull me up and out of the mire? So, I pray. I walk. I write. I read. I get outside. I find extra moments of solitude. I pour love into my family. I eat chocolate. I seek joy. Winding myself back down to remember the simple pleasures of life, I can reign in my rising anxiety, and keep calm for the time being.

Though, when enormous, life-shattering events, like Sunday’s massacre happens, how do we keep moving, one foot in front of the other, when our legs are shaking, bodies tense with stress, minds weary with anxiety, and hearts so heavy with anguish for ourselves and our fellow Americans? We question and fear—that’s what we do. We become irate and upset, rightfully so. We recognize the fear we feel for our children and the future of our country. All of these reactions are justifiable and necessary, absolutely so. We must allow ourselves to grieve these great losses, sorrows and sufferings and then find a way, even when innocent lives are taken so dreadfully, to move forward on in love and peace. Or, the lives lost to such an epic crime will have been taken in vain, and moments for healing and forgiveness will be missed. And we can never, ever let Evil break us down, take hold, nor win.

Although heartbreak may linger for quite some time, the cracks can’t define us. It would be easy to lose heart completely, give into despair, and forget all hope that remains. Whether the sufferings we witness are felt near or far, we must try to commit ourselves to the greater good, be a light, offer prayers and assistance, move forward in love and hope, do better for each other, and reach out in sincere kindness. At least, that’s my goal– to continue moving forward knowing that we make our own choices: between hope or fear, light or darkness, evil or love. I know which road I’m constantly seeking and plan to plant my own two feet there, with courage. Please, won’t you join me on the right path?

“Do not wait for leaders; do it alone, person to person.” ~ St. Teresa of Calcutta

Steadfast Simplicity

08 Tuesday Nov 2016

Posted by in 30 Days of Thanks, 30 Days of Thanksgiving, Blessings, Change, Chasing Dreams, Forgiveness, Glorifying God, Inspiration, Intentional Living, New Year New You, New Year's Resolutions, Past, Peace, Perspective, Simple Living, Simplicity, Striving toward Minimalism

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , ,

The sculptor produces the beautiful statue by chipping away such parts of the marble block as are not needed — it is a process of elimination. ~Elbert Hubbard

Striving toward minimalism is finally letting go of everything, and looking forward in anticipation toward all that will be gained in choosing to live and embody a simpler lifestyle. And the choice to become a minimalist is as easy as declaring, “Today is the day!”  Stating, “Enough is enough!” Realizing, “All of this stuff is weighing me down and dragging my health and happiness along with it.” Then you begin. First, by grabbing a trash bag and choosing to conquer one room at a time, or even just the junk drawer for now.

Your life will never feel or look the same once you pledge to make the positive change once and for all. And that’s the beauty in simplified, minimalistic, conscious-living. No longer living this life of yours on auto-pilot, but discerning with purpose, and redefining success, wealth, happiness, and joy—on your own terms.

Gifting—not just giving—yourself the permission to live the life you’ve always dreamed of, answering that call to be your authentic self, being counter-cultural in so many facets, and essentially, finding your own groove will be just a handful of positive outcomes of choosing to simplify your life while you strive toward minimalism. There is freedom in stating a firm “no” to the world, and shouting a resounding, “yes!” to your heart. You’ll wonder why you didn’t start sooner!

I have learned there is joy in making sound, rightful choices that stem from a place of peacefulness. That you’ll breed contentment in making these calm, conscious choices without a senseless environment to distract you, or the mind-clutter and unfounded fear within you obstructing the view. Note, there is humility in taking less for yourself and sharing that excess with others. You will walk, talk, and feel lighter with each new step on this minimalism journey. Simplifying is a satisfying soul cleanser, to say the least.

Take pride in how you define living a simpler life. Own what striving toward minimalism signifies to you in your own way. Don’t lose hope of what you’re starting. Work diligently, but gently and deliberately in all acts of simplifying and de-cluttering. Remind yourself that it’s all about balance—finding what works best for your life and heart. Choose now to live without all those things holding you back so that you can live the life you were meant to enjoy.

Looking ahead toward a New Year, don’t despair if this year’s attempts to redefine your lifestyle look completely different from the steps you plan to make on the journey toward minimalism in 2017. That’s the beauty in the pursuit of simplicity. Go at your own pace and don’t rush the process. It’s all about being intentional, after all. You’ll find your purposeful groove, and one day you’ll realize you’re living a minimalist, simpler way without giving much thought to how you got there.

Live your life simply, let go, follow your calling, forgive trespasses, and be set free. Regard yourself less and think of others more. Live your life in peace so that the light of love shines from within and reaches out to others.  Make your path to minimalism your own, but not without sharing that steadfast joy with others, and being grateful for the chance you’ve been gifted to change for the better.

Will you be striving toward minimalism in 2017? What small acts of simplifying and de-cluttering have yielded great, positive changes in your life?

 

From Darkness to Light

07 Monday Sep 2015

Posted by in Adoption, Attachment parenting, Catholic Parenting, Change, Childhood Mood Disorders, Fetal Alcohol Spectrum Disorder (FASD), Forgiveness, Parenting, Parenting a Child with Special Needs, Writing Goals

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

, , , , , , , , , , ,

“In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer.” 
― Albert Camus

When tragedy falls upon us, how do we respond? When tremendous joy is off-set by excruciating trials, which wins over your heart? When your faith in God is tested daily and you feel your mind darkening and your heart hardening, how do you bring yourself back to a place of light and peace?

Lake Michigan's rocky shore.

Lake Michigan’s rocky shore.


These are the challenges of my current days. This year has been filled with the joy of welcoming a newborn son—the most joyful, sweet boy, and the pain of The Girl’s myriad of disorders, special needs, and past traumas affecting her ability to function in a normal place—one far away from our loving reach. My silence on this blog is time spent away caring for my family in a way I never imagined I would have to do, facing enormous decisions that debilitate me on my strongest days, and inviting forgiveness and healing into my heart and home, often, on a moment-to-moment basis.

Always in the back of my mind is my  commitment to writing and what’s pulling me away from my writing goals. So, I’m figuring out a way I can continue to write about this whole mess of a year–wading in the murk and turmoil, despite the incredible challenges, changes, and triumphs, amidst the melancholic tragedies–and trying to not forget or dismiss the golden moments, too. My hope is that I can discover a new way to write it all down in order that my words will count for something and resonate with a kindred spirit living a similar dichotomy of joy and pain; that my wordy reflections bring about peace and hope, shedding light and love back into the world.

Sunset on Lake Michigan

Sunset on Lake Michigan

Choosing Love in the Tough Times

25 Saturday Oct 2014

Posted by in Change, Forgiveness, Inspiration, Love, Marriage, Motherhood, Mothers & Daughters, Mothers & Sons, Parenting, Peace, Personal health, Perspective, Tough days

≈ 10 Comments

Tags

, , , , , , , ,

“Be content with what you have;
rejoice in the way things are.
When you realize there is nothing lacking,
the whole world belongs to you.”
― Lao Tzu

 

I’ve been working on being content with what I have. Trying to fall in love again with my home. Trying to be happy with what I own, and being fine living without accumulating much more than what we already have. It’s a tough war going on inside of me. I see friends with bigger homes, houses cleaner than mine, their kids better dressed and well-mannered, enrolled in the greatest of sports opportunities, their lives seemingly soaring with perfection when my own seems a jumbled puzzle of trying times. I struggle with the balance of being fine with what has been given to me and what we work hard to maintain; what is being asked of me and what I feel I can manage with grace and balance, and it isn’t much.

I’ll admit my tendency toward selfishness gets the best of me many days. In realizing this awful truth about myself, I try to combat the inner-greed by turning my attention toward the practice of giving thanks daily. Over the years, I’ve retrained my brain in a way to instill a sense of gratitude, not loss. At first, I thought my efforts fraudulent; now I know that’s farther from the truth. What contemplation of blessings brings is a perception of will and a renewed mind, body, and spirit. A peaceful place of heart and a contentedness of spirit grows with practice. Amazing what a simple, “thank you for my good health, thank you for the kids I finally have, thank you for the husband I can’t even believe is mine, thank you for the goodness all around me” can do for one’s overall emotional and physical health.

What I’ve garnered from the practicing of minding grace is that my environment is affected by my natural discontented spirit. My home is a large source of contention, in this game, I’m afraid. Too often, I’m nervous when new friends are invited over for the first time, when family gather, even. My inner-critic feels fear of being judged for our ancient couch covered in a decade-old, faded Pottery Barn slipcover, the discount pillows strategically arranged to camouflage red marker and juice stains, all of the bargain Craigslist finds. Years ago, I used to be proud of my frugal nature, the knack I possessed for scoring the hidden gems at consignment shops and Goodwill. Deep down, I know I have nothing to be ashamed of, for this is who I really am—a delightfully frugal, sort of crunchy-kind of woman concerned with too much excess. Honestly, I’d be a nervous wreck having much nicer things than we own since my kids are still in that exploring stage, hard players, not too careful with a red marker in hand. They don’t care if our things don’t impress. So, I shouldn’t either.

“We need much less than we think we need.” 
― Maya Angelou

If I’m completely honest with myself and you, my patient readers, I’m not—at all—that unhappy with our place of residence. There have been countless wonderful memories made here, certainly some major heartbreak, but mostly the inner-workings of a family trying their best to live and love together inside the confines of a relatively small home. Most days, I like that we live among one another, that there aren’t too many places to hide away, that The Husband and I are teaching our children to be happy together. After all, what matters more than those we love?

What is restless, truly, is my heart. And when this cracked, pumping vessel of mine becomes restive—as it is now—I realize that the unease is due to a level of great imbalance within our family, something is off-kilter inside the four walls of our home. An imbalance that I can’t seem to tip back to level. Discontented in spirit is a personal defect I struggle with each and every day.

My initial reaction—when life becomes so overwhelming that it can’t be ignored—is that if I could just escape the confines of the instability here then the discontent will release its hold on my family and me, and we will be able to break free of the confines of the pain, the source of disruption, and all the troubles will disappear. In my right mind, I know that these issues we are grappling with will follow no matter the place and space, no matter what the numbers on the mailbox say, despite the size of the mortgage payments. Though, the fantasy of someplace fresher, cleaner, brighter, untarnished is a pleasant divergence from the reality of our messy lives. And so today, I remain stuck inside the walls and look for a resolve inside myself. For, we all know that the only control we have is over ourselves and our own choices.

During quiet times of reflection and prayer, I can change my outlook on the muck before me and merely choose love, stillness and calm, patience, and tender care no matter the trial set before me. It’s my choice. And the choice is yours for the taking, too, if you are brave enough to change.

“You are the sky. Everything else – it’s just the weather.” 
― Pema Chödrön

The focus now needs to be keenly set on love. And not just the mushy-gushy type of heartfelt sentiments, but the difficult, tough-love kind—the talking myself into loving when my heart feels like a stone, when my stubborn nature builds walls around me, when I’m just plain tired of caring. When The Girl retaliates by ingesting foods with her allergens that she knows will make her sick, yet deliberately sneaks down to gorge herself on these intentionally, I need to find the love to deal with her terrible choices and the patience to remain calm when she is sick and wheezing all day long—she, yelling at me, as if I’m the one who made her so allergic and sick, as if it’s all my fault. These challenging times are the times to have compassion for her, to see the plight in her eyes from the slight stance where she stands before me, too often screaming in my face, her pain and anguish shooting daggers at my heart. Even in these trying times, I choose love.

The focus now needs to be on remaining still—right where I am, exactly where I’ve been planted—because any slight movement might erase the magic in the moment—imperfections and all. For, when Baby Girl slides into bed beside me every night lately because of her fear of the dark despite a nightlight in every outlet, and the rising fear she feels of losing her almost-four-year-old self to the baby she once was not so long ago. Even when I feel the anger  in losing precious sleep because of her beside me tossing and turning, snuggling up to every inch of me like she’s going to lose me in the intensity of her fears, I choose to be still beside her in her fear. Even in the middle of the night when I have been awaken too many times to worsen me for the wear—most definitely then—I must find the love for Baby Girl in the morning as she remains cuddled next to me, so innocent and happy, and kiss her sweet porcelain cheek despite my wretched grouchiness. I choose calmness and love, because who knows how long my Baby Girl will want to remain so close by my side?

The focus now needs to be on patience and tender care—the kind that can mend hearts, minds, and moods—the type of uplifting calm and true presence of Love itself. So, when The Boy stays out late with his dad for a Cub Scout camp-out and at 11:00 PM comes home hyped-up on the thrill of Halloween excitement, animatedly describing the fun he had that night with his buddies, too jazzed-up to fall asleep, then suddenly, quickly resorting to full-on meltdown mode, startling his sisters awake—this is when a mindful patience is necessary. Certainly, when The Boy wakes up at his usual early bird time, clocking only eight hours of sleep last night, uncharacteristically grumpy during breakfast, head-strong and groggily resolved to build Legos this morning, speaking only in whiny retorts to his sisters who are annoying him a little too quickly today because of his sleep-induced edginess—this is when I still remain patient in loving him in the rough moments together and all throughout this jolted day. For my son, I choose love because he needs to know that he is deserving of my love despite his having a bad day, and that I will always love him no matter what.

Folks, my dad said it best when he turned to me, just before he walked me down the aisle to be married to The Husband, with tender concern in his eyes and stated, “Remember, LOVE IS A CHOICE.”  My late father’s words have remained within me, and make more sense now than ever before.

“All your life, you will be faced with a choice. You can choose love or hate…I choose love.” 
― Johnny Cash

Going forward, my focus remains inward with the intent of turning all the interior reflection outward realizing the swirl of imperfection in my family’s less-than-ideal traits are so delicately mirrored as my own personal deficiencies, though it can all be overcome in time by choosing love. Humble mom moment.

 

“However mean your life is, meet it and live it; do not shun it and call it hard names. It is not so bad as you are. It looks poorest when you are richest. The fault-finder will find faults even in paradise. Love your life, poor as it is. You may perhaps have some pleasant, thrilling, glorious hours, even in a poorhouse. The setting sun is reflected from the windows of the almshouse as brightly as from the rich man’s abode; the snow melts before its door as early in the spring. I do not see but a quiet mind may live as contentedly there, and have as cheering thoughts, as in a palace.” 
― Henry David Thoreau, Walden

Living Intentionally in 2014

07 Tuesday Jan 2014

Posted by in Blessings, Change, Forgiveness, Infertility, Miscarriage, New Year's Resolutions, Past, Peace, Perspective, Snow day!, Writing, Writing routine

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , ,

Ring out the old, ring in the new,
Ring, happy bells, across the snow:
The year is going, let him go;
Ring out the false, ring in the true.
~Alfred, Lord Tennyson, 1850

I think in terms of the day’s resolutions, not the year’s.  ~Henry Moore

It’s that time of year, one resplendent with making promises to ourselves that this new year will be better than the last. It’s an awesome, positive time of year despite that the good intentions might be laced with bitter despair by looking back on all that went wrong in a previous year. In 2013, I was facing emotional and physical trials that put an abrupt end to any worthy resolution I had in mind for the year as I began with joyful anticipation of focusing on growing my family and writing my motherhood stories. Instead, I spent my days and months fighting to get my body, mind, and spirit back. It was an exhausting feat, but I survived and once again, the wounds of despair have made me a stronger, kinder, more resilient being. The writing, in fact, saved me.

Writing is therapy.

Writing is therapy.

The first week of 2014 has found me locked up indoors tending to my three children, all whom fell ill in a staggered progression that began with a quick onset of fever and chills, moved to various stomach ails, and was followed by a brutal, lingering head and chest cold. Now we are all stuck inside a little while longer due to the unsightly arctic blast growling outside. No school, no recreational activities, no heading out for us. There are blessings in being grounded together for a couple more days. Not only do the kids have some extra time to recoup, but I’ve found ample time to reflect on what I want differently out of today, tomorrow, and the days ahead. At the top of my priorities for this new year?  Cutting myself some slack and worrying less about the future. Living less in my mind and more in the present.  Lacerating my tendency toward undue anxiety and negative self-talk. Deeper, mindful breathing. Allowing myself to move slowly and deliberately as long as I’m heading forward and onward to a better self, life, and sense of purpose.

Slow down and live life more fully.

Slow down and live life more fully.

What do you have in mind for your new year? How do you want to live differently just for today?  

Simply, love

09 Thursday May 2013

Posted by in AD/HD, Adoption, Attachment parenting, Childhood Mood Disorders, Fetal Alcohol Spectrum Disorder (FASD), Forgiveness, Love, Mothers & Daughters, Parenting, Peace, Stress & Anxiety, Tough days, Writing

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , ,

There are times when silence has the loudest voice. ~ Leroy Brownlow

“…Peace begins with a smile. Smile five times a day at someone you don’t really want to smile at; do it for peace…” ~Mother Teresa

 

Day and evening, I have sat diligently at my distressed white Queen Anne desk to begin writing about the past, the present, the dream of tomorrow, but the words lead me nowhere, and I give up mid-sentence. Word documents are left half-explored. Bits and pieces of something remain–and that something has to do with bitterness and defeat. Anger and despair can’t be the only source of my words, so I allow days to pass me by to seek a cure to my writer’s block. I read instead.

A pile of books loaned from Uptown’s public library; a few favored electronic books downloaded to my Kindle; a growing stack of periodicals in the wicker basket beside the French country cream and green checkered love seat in the living room. Covered in my favorite down throw, I seek solace in treasured reading time. If my words are halted, then I will fill the void with other authors’ stories. I think, maybe this reading-only plan will help me to regain the courage I lost over these last three weeks to forge ahead in writing my story. Vindicated after just a couple days spent getting lost in stories, I find myself less harsh, and eager to befriend my ruby-red laptop once again.

Tapping the keys can be a most profound stress reliever. Anger melts away toward a deeper perspective–one borne of rumination, not regret. Word count increases and I feel like myself again.

~

The last couple of weeks have not been easy around here. The Girl has had a fair amount of challenges at home and school and the ramifications are felt all around us, lingering like a storm that begs to break. There are some days when I don’t feel capable of giving her all that she needs, to listen to her constant emotional wreckage, to be present and calm with her nearby. Truly, there are times when I feel like I don’t have an ounce of strength left in me to be her first line of defense when fighting the constant battles she brings to the table. I’m left overwhelmed by the daily management of this child and it has left me drained–so much so that I have to shut down my mind come evening and just be still.

Most challenging at times is the level of patience and calm persistence it takes to raise The Girl. The discipline always seems clunky– not quite right–and the level of perseverance it takes to get through an ordinary day is exhausting. If the everyday occurrences of emotional turmoil, wreckage and hyperactivity were kept to a minimum or happened on occasion then maybe I wouldn’t be living in constant frustration of it all. Before I react or teach, I honestly have to remind myself that she needs me more now in her time of trouble than on an average bad day–especially when I am the main target of her fight. Yes, most especially when she fights with me for no apparent reason.

This morning was a particularly tough one. Already tired that this irrational fight between us was starting at such an early hour, I asked The Girl, “Do we have to do this today?” A shrug was the only answer in return.

“Can you tell me why you are fighting with me now? Why are you arguing with me?” Silence.

With a heavy heart, I turned away from her, hiding my anguished face and my overworked mind tired of trying to figure out what ailed her this day. Exhausted of figuring out if this was one of those “big deal” situations or just her typical moodiness, I just had to turn away. Day after day after day of troubles and heartache–hers and mine–gets old fast.

One day of simple–this is my Mother’s Day wish.

As I descended the stairs to ready my little ones for the quick drive over to The Girl’s elementary school for morning drop-off, I gathered those two–The Boy and Baby Girl– in overzealous hugs and kisses, taking in a deep breath that filled my lungs with their little kid sweetness. With that breath, also a prayer. A prayer that this downreaching yogic breath would sustain me through the morning with The Girl–in peace. Despite my natural inclination to be annoyed and angry back at her, despite her ability to keep the charade going, I was going to win this war–with kindness, a smile, not engaging her at her worst–fathomless breaths guiding me through. It was my prayer that we were going to finish out the remainder of the morning without any further argument, without turning the gray effect into black, without more hurt feelings or emotional pain.

As I remained strong-willed in my efforts to remain calm, rising above the blackness of mood threatening to take over, my prayer was answered almost immediately. Just when I needed it most. Ironically, The Girl must’ve been doing her own deep breathing upstairs as she awaited my call to gather her belongings and head to the van. Because, once she descended those stairs herself, her entire demeanor had changed and I actually received a half-hug–her attempt at an apology. Her posture and presence dramatically morphed from bitter anger to a softer, calmer, kinder state. In thankfulness, I melted into that awkward embrace, my rigidness relaxing, too.

Thank you, Lord. Thank you for answered prayers and reminding me that I am not alone and neither is she. 

Upon locking the front door, I inhaled a triumphantly deep yogic breath of gratitude. It might not seem like much that The Girl quickly changed her attitude, but to me it was a sign of hope. Truly, a small miracle so desperately needed to sustain both of us after weeks of struggle. At the very least, I knew this change of heart meant The Girl’s morning at school would go smoothly. It also meant that she is growing in her ability to take responsibility for how her words–or lack thereof–and actions affect others. She is developing empathy, I think. This alone is a triumph worth celebrating. My hope is that the turn-around points to her learning how to be sorry. At this point, I’ll accept any attempt at reconciliation from her for a fight that I never saw coming–one that seems to resurface without any apparent pattern and typically without warning. I’d love for this recurrent fight to end so that we can forge ahead in love.

I’ll never stop being her advocate at school, with doctors, or in the community-at-large. But, the ever-present struggle between us at home has to end at some point. All I want for our family is true love and peace–in us and between us. All I want for The Girl is the ability to feel truly loved by us, the knowledge that she belongs here with us, and that she is alright just as she is. All I want is calmer, easier, better days ahead.

One day of simple–this is my Mother’s Day wish. 

Peaceful Remembrance

10 Wednesday Apr 2013

Posted by in "The Book", Forgiveness, Past, Peace, Writing

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , ,

Each has his past shut in him like the leaves of a book known to him by heart and his friends can only read the title.  ~ Virginia Woolf

 

Forgotten memories stream back to my mind and blind side me with rich imagery and preserved moments from the days of old. These once-forgotten instances of long-ago fly straight at me as swiftly as a bird heading directly toward my kitchen window. The sound of a bird smacking windowpane is one that makes my stomach lurch. There is nothing so awful as seeing a pair of wings fluttering wildly before hitting glass and falling to the ground. It always ends badly—either by wound or death. Memories can be like a helpless bird flying too fast toward its fate. Uncovering forgotten memories can wake us up from the present with such a profound impact that we either sail above with newfound glory or fall to our knees while writhing in pain from the despair of a darker time. We are often scarred by what has happened before now and the wounds never leave unless we try to make sense of them, perhaps involve a little therapy, and for once practice true forgiveness—not forget-ness—but forgiveness of ourselves and what once was such a stronghold in our lives. We can continue to bury the past or excavate these hard moments to reach a far greater peace about the then, and carry that reconciliation utilizing the harmony within us now as a template for tomorrow.

Daily now, the kids and I witness the same robins, cardinals, and blue jays taking their turns swooping from tree to tree. They provide us with abundant entertainment as we watch them pull new flower buds from the blooming branches and gather their fill of spring’s bounty. Quickly, they descend into the yard for a worm or two before eagerly soaring off again in pursuit of their next perching place, perhaps a bug or well-built nest. Since spring has reached us in Central Ohio, The Boy and Baby Girl spend their breakfasts in front of the bay window in our eating area searching in amusement for new types of birds and eat in awe of these amazing fowl. Just as our feathered friends take from nature the necessities for their lifelong survival and sing joyfully for their luck, visions of days past more often than not sustain and fulfill me, for they are the most natural and intricate parts of my being. Organically remembering what has been before can carry me for years to come as I use the lessons of the past for a new life and healthier, restored sense of self.

So many say that “it’s best to leave the past behind” so that we can live fully in the present. In most instances, I agree. Yet, I think there is a tremendous difference between constantly dwelling on the past, and instead making a gift out of the journey—especially when memories appear by serendipity.  As I plug away at “The Book” (as I like to refer to it) I am finding that these magical discoveries of former days come to me in abundance. And when writing a creative nonfiction book, the bygone holds the golden key to the answers found in the past that have led a writer to the most precious of moments in the present day. On days like today, I welcome the past—with fondness or disdain it does not matter—today, the prior is my friend.