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It’s 11:27pm. I’m sitting here sipping tea, thinking about the week behind me and the one ahead. The house is peaceful. I can hear Pete upstairs talking to someone online, while the rest of the family is already asleep. Well, Momo the sugarglider is running laps on her wheel. She’s the most energetic of us all at this time of night. She’s got me thinking about the Sundays of the past when I was doing the same thing.

Can you relate?

I grew up in a Christian faith that teaches that Sundays are a day of rest. Ha! After being in some form of church leadership for over two decades before my departure, I’m here to tell you I think that’s bullshit. Sundays were NEVER relaxing for me, especially after having children. I spent years spinning too many plates, and wearing too many hats, and I convinced myself that it was all good. I was fine. I didn’t know how to rest, and when I tried, I felt guilty because there were so many things to do, and I am a do-er. I’m an over-do-er.

Sundays were for church all morning and sometimes into the afternoon, then coming home and doing ALL the things – laundry, prepping for the school week – homeschooling for three different grade levels, and my Friday classes at the private school where I taught, housework, meal prep, etc. I just kept moving. I was living by Newton’s 1st law of motion. 😉

For over 30 years, yes – even before kids, Sundays were my most exhausting day of the week. Not everything about them was bad, I mostly enjoyed what I was doing at the time, but I’m a little sad about it now. I want to give that Niki a hug and tell her it’s okay to sit down and rest, guilt free. And in case you’re wondering, Saturdays were often the same kind of crazy that just bled over into Sundays. The really hard Sundays bled over into Mondays. The weekends were for getting the things done we didn’t complete during the week, and stressing over all of the things we needed to do in the coming week. I was an expert at running on that wheel.

In contrast, I’m finally resting on Sundays, and it’s wonderful! I wake up when I want to, get dressed (or not) and meander down the stairs for tea and food. Sometimes Benny and I have brunch together. Since he’s usually up by 4 am, he’s often eating lunch while I’m eating a late breakfast, but it’s still together. We actually connect on Sundays now. It is no longer a day of checking tasks off a list, or filling it with prep for the week. I’ve intentionally made it a unhurried day for myself. We occasionally slip a few tasks in, and that’s okay, but my catch-all Sundays are a thing of the past!

Some Sundays I stay in pajamas all day and read, or play in my planner, or work on a creative project, or watch movies with Benny. Some Sundays I meet up with a friend for a coffee/chai date, or go to a movie by myself or with one of my kids, or attend live theatre. This afternoon I went to see Hamlet with Zoe and my friend Mary at the Denver Center for Performing Arts. It was excellent! My biggest stress of the day was the traffic on I-25 because there was a Rockies game AND a Broncos game. Fun times.

Tonight I enjoyed an hour-long phone chat with a long distance friend, and started one of two online art classes I’ll be taking over the next few weeks. Benny went to bed early. Zoe was in the kitchen making simple syrup from the lavendar she picked a few days ago. Pete was gaming online with friends. Max was out of town for the weekend, so he was hanging out with his dog and catching up with the family. We’ve all created a new rhythm for our Sundays – one of rest. Finally.

I’ll leave the wheel-running to Momo.

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Is this one of those moments in history we should chronicle because someone in the future will ask us, “Where were you when Covid-19 spread across the globe?”

I was in elementary school when President Reagan was shot. Our class mailed him a get well card.

Prince Charles and Lady Diana were married on my 9th birthday, so that’s memorable for me.

I experienced the collective shock of the space shuttle Challenger exploding while I was sitting with my friends in class in middle school.

I was a junior in high school when the Berlin Wall came down – we have a piece of it.

I was a young married woman with family in Oklahoma City when Timothy McVeigh blew up the federal building there.

We were living in Colorado and I was pregnant with Max during the Columbine shooting. I sat in front of the TV, tears running down my face and one hand rubbing my belly as I wondered what kind of world we were bringing a child into.

We were living in Indianapolis that crisp fall morning in 2001 when I left for Bible study. Shortly after arriving, I watched in horror on live TV as a plane flew into the 2nd twin tower of the World Trade Center, and then I saw them fall.

Microscopic view of Coronavirus, a pathogen that attacks the respiratory tract. Analysis and test, experimentation. Sars

There are so many historical touch points and defining moments in our lives. Those were just a handful of mine.  Could this be another one? What will people in the future say about this pandemic? Will they ask questions like these?

  • What was it like?
  • Were you scared?
  • Did you blow it off as no big deal at first?
  • Did you really quarantine for ___ days?
  • What did you do all day?
  • What did you do when the stores ran out of necessities?
  • How did you ration your toilet paper?
  • Did anyone in your family test positive for Covid-19?
  • Did you lose anyone close to you due to the virus?
  • How did people treat each other? Was it everyone for themselves or were people community-minded?
  • Who were the leaders that instilled calm into the chaos and hope into the fear?

I want to record details now to help me remember then. How are you doing with all of this? What’s happening in your family? Your city? Your state? Your country? The collective stories will be memorable because we help make them part of the official record of our time. Write it down. Take photos. Scrapbook or journal things out. Answer the question.

Where were you?

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It was a short conversation over text, but it has stuck with me all week, so I asked for permission to share it with you!

Me – How do you know my friend Amy?

Michelle – She sat at my table at MOPS* like five years ago.

Michelle and I recently met at the school where I teach one day a week, and we just became Facebook friends a few days ago. I checked out her page to see who we have in common and was happy to see Amy’s name. After I explained my connection to Amy, Michelle had me teary with this story:

“She probably doesn’t know this, but she was instrumental for me dealing with a teen pregnancy – with my step-daughter. I had MOPS the day after we found out she was seven and a half months pregnant. Obviously, I was reeling. I shared my news with the other ladies at my table and Amy looked at me and said,

`God sent a baby to save the world. Maybe He’s sending this one to save your daughter.’

And it did…save her, and it saved our relationship. We adopted her baby, Harper Grace. Grace for God’s grace. Amy probably barely remembers me, but I’ll never forget her.”

THIS is what friends do for each other – speak words of kindness and love, especially when someone is hurting. Amy is one of those people you meet that always knows what to say to lighten someone else’s burden. She makes people feel seen and loved. She has spoken words of life to me too and inspired me to be a better friend, so I really connected with Michelle’s story.

My daughter’s middle name is also Grace, but there’s another piece of this story that tugged at my heart. Michelle and Amy met at MOPS!

You see, Amy struggled with infertility (and all the heartache that comes with it) for several years before she became a mom. I was witness to part of that difficult season of her life, and I know where she was at 5 years ago as an exhausted new mommy of triplets! I love that she was part of a MOPS group and I think it’s awesome how she made a difference in Michelle’s life. I love that my world continues to both shrink and expand through my friendships with amazing people.

And that little unplanned baby they were talking about?

She’s now a beautiful little girl.

 

Harper

Michelle and Harper

*MOPS stands for Mothers of Preschoolers. Headquartered in Denver, MOPS has been around since 1973. They partner with churches and organizations in over 60 countries to encourage moms. For more information or to find a MOPS group near you, visit their website: mops.org

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So It Begins!

Day 1. January 1st. A fresh start. 365 days of possibility stretched out before me. New beginnings. A chance to do better and be better. But, I’m still feeling the sorrowful weight of 2018. I don’t know how long it will last. Here’s what I want for the new year…

EASY-button

I don’t make resolutions anymore – I never keep them. What I do is hope. I hope to be intentional this year, in my relationships, my work, my health, my writing, my travel, my rest, my faith, and most of all, my family.

2018 kicked my ass. I am down for the count and I’m fighting to stand back up. I moved beyond sad awhile ago and I’m struggling with depression. This past week I had friends on Facebook asking us to list three good things that happened to us in 2018, and I sat there numbly staring at my screen. Could I think of three?

  1. Amsterdam & France. The mom’s mystery trip was the best thing that happened to me in 2018. Traveling to another country with some of my close friends and spending the day with Don in France was AMAZING!
  2. Erin graduated in May. Erin is my neighbor and one of my “daughter from another mother” kids. Traditional school was not a good fit for her, so I worked with her mom and we helped her homeschool her last two years of high school. Homeschooling is HARD, but I am built to do hard things.
  3. I’m thinking…

In the name of processing hard things, here’s my 2018:

At the beginning of the year I started a new job I thought would be amazing but turned out to be awful. I don’t want to work for abusive people with zero integrity who lie and manipulate others to get what they want. When I started back at GJK in June, I came home and cried that first day. I had forgotten what it felt like to be treated with respect and as an integral part of a team. The joke has been that I took a five month sabbatical from them and everyone is glad I’m back. Me too.

Someone dear and close to us broke the law and twelve months later we are still walking through the fallout of that bad decision with them – it’s not over.

What I initially thought was a break from my church turned into a break up. I am dismayed by much of American Christianity and navigating what that looks like for my faith journey. I’ll be blogging more about that sometime this year.

The mystery trip was a wonderful adventure, but I was betrayed by a friend shortly after we returned home. I didn’t see it coming and it completely blind-sided me. Then she cut me out of her life and I just don’t understand. I’m still mad as hell about it.

For the first time in twenty years, I missed out on summer camp. I had just returned to work with GJK and Benny was job hunting. We just couldn’t make it happen.

Letting go of the cigar shop and dealing with unemployment for a few months was a huge challenge. We survived it, but I can’t even talk about the difficulty of that season. It’s still too raw.

Kids: Max had two car accidents and two tickets, we had to sell his car for scrap when we couldn’t sink any more money into it to fix it (it wasn’t the car in the accidents), job changes for the kids, teenage hormones and angst, and a medical issue that had us worried for months that seems to be resolved now, and all three of my children had their hearts broken, which hurts a momma’s heart too. It was a hard year for the whole family.

We have several friends fighting serious health battles, a few of whom have stopped treatment and are trying to live their best life with the time they have left.

And death, oh the deaths. One of my former students passed away. The loss of a child in one’s life is particularly hard. A sweet young lady we’ve known for many years shocked everyone who knew her when she took her own life. We love her family and feel their heartache. As you know from my last post, Avon Shields lost her battle with cancer and that devastated me. My 14-year-old niece Sarah got sick and passed away the week before Christmas. While I didn’t know her because we’ve never lived close, it was excruciating to watch my sister lose her only child. It was terrible speaking with my dad on the phone and hearing his voice break. Her funeral was last Saturday on Pete’s birthday. On Christmas Day we learned of the passing of our friend Davon the day before. It was a year of great loss and I’m still reeling.

There are things that happened in 2018 that I am processing privately. Hurtful, ugly things that make me want to change my name, move somewhere no one can find me, and tell the whole world to go to hell. That doesn’t sound like me at all, but it’s where I’m at. 2019 has got to be better, right?

And now that I’ve purposefully tried to think of three good things about 2018, I’m remembering several more…

  1. I made new friends.
  2. I enjoyed lots of planned coffee dates in person and messenger or phone dates with friends far away.
  3. I saw some good movies.
  4. I read a lot of great books.
  5. I met several amazing authors I love.
  6. I got a free educator’s pass to Denver Comic Con – spent some time with my friend Rebecca and we got a photo with Val Kilmer.
  7. I reconnected with old friends I haven’t seen in years.
  8. I wrote a little bit.
  9. I led some fun field trips with my homeschooling mom friends.
  10. I prayed for a lot of people and was prayed for too.
  11. My food bank was thriving and I helped lots of families
  12. My dad and Shari came for a visit.
  13. I learned some new skills that will serve me well in the future.
  14. I bought a vintage 1930’s typewriter and won a pretty cool 1970’s one for a poem.
  15. Benny got a great new job.

I’d keep working on this list, but I really just want to move through the grief process and look forward to good things in the new year. I know every year is a mixed bag. That’s life, and it’s never fair, but for now I’m signing off with this…

Good riddance 2018. You may have kicked my ass, but 2019 is going to kick yours.

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Begin Again!

Those two words are the story of my life.

I start things, get busy or bored, leave them sit for a while, then begin them again. Projects, writing or otherwise, are the worst and most common testing ground for this. I take brave, stumbling steps forward and often fall down, but I always get back up and begin again. I am resilient.

Beginning again is a choice. If you get lost, find your way back. If you fall down, get back up. If you are wounded, let yourself heal. Never ever give up. Finish what you start. Just do it. Press on. Start over. Pick up where you left off. If you’re still not happy or making headway with the project or whatever it is you’ve stalled out on, re-evaluate and decide if you’re at the end. If you are, let it go and embrace your freedom to move on. If you’re not finished yet, begin again. You can do it. So can I. We can cheer each other on!

Oh, how we need to cheer each other on! We need reminders because we forget and we judge ourselves too harshly. It doesn’t have to be this way, so here’s our reminder for today:

Keep moving forward. Dare greatly. Begin Again.begin again

(I was searching for a beautiful photo to accompany this post and came across this gem at http://melissablair.net/always-begin-again. What a nice reminder that this is nothing new and we are never alone. Great minds…)

 

 

 

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