I have read a lot of heartbreaking blogs lately. Like... a lot. They have all been about the deaths of children, which is a kind of pain I hope to never know.
Something really selfish occurred to me though, that I am sure occurs to others. When we read such stories, even though we hurt for them [which is never even comparable to the parents pain] and sometimes even cry as we read them [I can admit it.] there is a little tiny part of us that is actually happy. Not happy that it happened... of course not... but happy that it wasn't us.
I think sometimes I have this crazy way of rationalizing tragedies as though there are a limited number of them, which is not true of course. But I feel like as things happen in the lives of others, it is always a lesson to cherish the moments we have, take extra precautions as necessary, and to be thankful that, this time, it wasn't us.
How incredibly selfish is that? When I really think about it, it makes me feel like an awful person. How can I be glad someone lost their child? In reality though, that is not it. It is NOT that I am happy they lost their child... that could not be further from the truth!! Part of me is just relieved that it was not MY child, nor MY story. I don't think that is too uncommon. Is it??
The idea of 'it could never happen to me' is something I link to high school health class when we talked about STDs and getting pregnant. Then I realize... hmm. I got pregnant in April of my senior year. It CAN happen to me. It did. That was one that I can say I am thankful for though :)
I know I am not invincible. Neither is my family. I just have a really hard time accepting the fact that there are things [people, situations, events] that I just can't protect my children from. I want to pull them in close and never let them venture out into the harsh, unforgiving world... but I know I can't. Unless I build some crazy bunker on an island like in Lost... now there is a thought :))
As a mom, my heart just shatters to hear stories of someone loosing their child [of all ages]. It is so hard to not just pull out of the world all together sometimes. But also as a mom, I am learning that I am not the perfect parent. I will make mistakes, have regrets and wish I could go back in time... but I am always given opportunities to be shown that I still have time. Right now. To make their lives exactly what it should be... my life has always been lived for someone else. Never for me. That's kind of hard to swallow. There are times when I just want to cut the bindings. Be free for a little while. But what would I be missing?
Too much.
Everything.
Everyone needs a little freedom, no question. I love my 'me' time. But not as much as I love looking over and seeing my baby girl snuggling with her daddy on the couch. Or as much as I love my son waltzing into my bedroom and asking me about what I did at work today. Or as much as phone calls from my oldest [even though they are just as heartbreaking] telling me how much he misses me.
I would give up e v e r y t h i n g for them. Freedom, happiness, parties, sunshine... anything.
The best part is... they aren't asking me to.
I have these amazing little people in my life that I could not imagine them NOT being in my life. So when I am forced to consider the idea that something could happen to them that I cannot control... it devastates me. When bad things happen, I will always have that little part being just slightly thankful it wasn't us. I am human.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Monday, January 24, 2011
Back to Him.
There is something that has been weighing really heavily on me lately. That wedge I placed between me and my relationship with God. I'm not sure when it got there, but I feel it. I've stopped turning to Him first in times of need. I have been trying to deal with everything on my own, and while I'm being honest... that isn't going so well for me. It seems like it has been forever since I have actually felt Him with me, but that is my fault.
This weekend I received a rough reality check.
I went up for an awesome night out with my bestie on Friday night. Saturday morning, I headed out early to make it back home for the Polar Bear Plunge. As soon as I left, something was off. Apparently both of my front tires decided to deflate significantly over night. Not a huge deal right? Just stop off and get some air in them. Well on the way to a gas station, my car was slipping and sliding all over the place after an over night snow. I put it off to the deflation of the front tires and that as soon as I got them refilled, it would be fine.
I pull into a gas station and hop out to check the tires and get the caps off so I can refill them. The caps were frozen on. I had no tools with me to get them off, and apparently you cant get a wrench or pliers at a gas station. I call Mindy and she is able to swing by before going to cheer practice with the tools. I get them off and get them filled up (my PSI is supposed to be 41 and it was less than 20 in both my front tires...) and be on my way.
I was still doing some slipping around, but I know that sometimes side streets aren't attended to as fast as main roads. Surely the highway was going to be better. Wrong.
I made it 25 miles in over 1 hours. The trip in total is 120 miles and usually only takes me 2 hours. I had to pull off the road 3 times because I was actually having panic attacks from all the sliding my car was doing. It seemed like I was the only car having that problem. People were just FLYING past me. I was crying and shaking and I'm pretty sure I surpassed white knuckles into straight up bloody fingers from the death grip I had on the steering wheel.
The last time I pulled off the freeway, I realized that I was trying to do all of this on my own. I wasn't asking God to keep me safe. I gave myself a few more minutes of breathing time before I sucked it up and went back to the freeway. I was still sliding a little, but not nearly as much. About 10 miles in, the roads cleared up it seemed and it was smooth sailing. Any time I felt the sway of the car start, I just pressed on, confident I would be fine.
Soon I began to see what it was I was so afraid of. A little bit before I reached Milwaukee, I began to see accident after accident. 8 in total. Not just minor fender benders either. I'm talking about major accidents, of which some I am sure were fatal. One vans entire back end was gone. Then there was the blue pick up truck that was on its side. After I passed the 5th or 6th accident, I realized I had stopped praying for myself, and I was praying for the people in these cars and their families. I don't even think it was right until that moment that I realized how much I had shut myself off from God. I'm not sure why it happened, but I can see now that it did. All I can do is work on changing that everyday. Make a conscious effort to look to Him more often... not just at a time when I feel desperate.
Slowly but surely... I'll get there. The hard lesson I am learning now is that everything really does happen for a reason. Situations that seem impossible right now will turn out to be great things. I'm never in total darkness.
This weekend I received a rough reality check.
I went up for an awesome night out with my bestie on Friday night. Saturday morning, I headed out early to make it back home for the Polar Bear Plunge. As soon as I left, something was off. Apparently both of my front tires decided to deflate significantly over night. Not a huge deal right? Just stop off and get some air in them. Well on the way to a gas station, my car was slipping and sliding all over the place after an over night snow. I put it off to the deflation of the front tires and that as soon as I got them refilled, it would be fine.
I pull into a gas station and hop out to check the tires and get the caps off so I can refill them. The caps were frozen on. I had no tools with me to get them off, and apparently you cant get a wrench or pliers at a gas station. I call Mindy and she is able to swing by before going to cheer practice with the tools. I get them off and get them filled up (my PSI is supposed to be 41 and it was less than 20 in both my front tires...) and be on my way.
I was still doing some slipping around, but I know that sometimes side streets aren't attended to as fast as main roads. Surely the highway was going to be better. Wrong.
I made it 25 miles in over 1 hours. The trip in total is 120 miles and usually only takes me 2 hours. I had to pull off the road 3 times because I was actually having panic attacks from all the sliding my car was doing. It seemed like I was the only car having that problem. People were just FLYING past me. I was crying and shaking and I'm pretty sure I surpassed white knuckles into straight up bloody fingers from the death grip I had on the steering wheel.
The last time I pulled off the freeway, I realized that I was trying to do all of this on my own. I wasn't asking God to keep me safe. I gave myself a few more minutes of breathing time before I sucked it up and went back to the freeway. I was still sliding a little, but not nearly as much. About 10 miles in, the roads cleared up it seemed and it was smooth sailing. Any time I felt the sway of the car start, I just pressed on, confident I would be fine.
Soon I began to see what it was I was so afraid of. A little bit before I reached Milwaukee, I began to see accident after accident. 8 in total. Not just minor fender benders either. I'm talking about major accidents, of which some I am sure were fatal. One vans entire back end was gone. Then there was the blue pick up truck that was on its side. After I passed the 5th or 6th accident, I realized I had stopped praying for myself, and I was praying for the people in these cars and their families. I don't even think it was right until that moment that I realized how much I had shut myself off from God. I'm not sure why it happened, but I can see now that it did. All I can do is work on changing that everyday. Make a conscious effort to look to Him more often... not just at a time when I feel desperate.
Slowly but surely... I'll get there. The hard lesson I am learning now is that everything really does happen for a reason. Situations that seem impossible right now will turn out to be great things. I'm never in total darkness.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
You're my best.
Sometimes I think being a mom is the hardest job in the world. Other times, I think that could not be any further from the truth. What 'job' yields such a high reward? How many jobs are out there that allow you to witness first hand all of the very best parts of you on the outside, growing and learning?
None.
There is a phrase I use with my kids all the time. I often tell each of them 'You're my best.' I'll say it whenever really, but I almost always whisper it to them right after I tuck them in for the night. My always inquisitive two year old asked me the other night as I was getting some snuggles from her as I tucked her in, "Mommy, how I you best?" I couldn't help but smile. None of them had ever asked me that, but of course I had the answer. I told her that before God made her, He looked deep into Mommy and Daddy and found the very best parts of us to piece her together. It took Him a long time of course... about 9 months or so. But when she was finally perfected, He gave her her birthday. So when I say 'You're my best.' it is because all of the very best things about me are embodied in her. I didn't expect her to understand it really. Not yet anyway, but she seemed satisfied with that answer and slipped off to dream land.
Sometimes I find myself wondering about what kinds of things she will tell her babies to let them know that she holds nothing higher in her heart than them. That they have all of her best.
On a more silly note, on our way to church today Bug gave Bubba a quick lesson in match accessories! She has these little beaded bracelets my mom gave her for Christmas. She carries around a few with her at all times, and today she had some red ones and some brown ones. She was actually sharing with her brother for once and after she gave him a red one she gasped and exclaimed "It matches you jacket!!" and it did. She looked back at the other ones she had and squealed and chucked him a second one yelling "And this one matches you boots!!!" It was brown, like his boots. Her little face was just glowing and Bubba just looked baffled. He asked her why they had to match. Her answer: "The colors have to go the same or you look messy, just messy." She shook her head in disgust for his lack of understanding and I was dying of laughter. Once Bubba got the concept, he started point out other things they matched just to prove to her he got it. That seemed to make it better :))
What kind of 'job' gives you endless moments like THAT??
None.
There is a phrase I use with my kids all the time. I often tell each of them 'You're my best.' I'll say it whenever really, but I almost always whisper it to them right after I tuck them in for the night. My always inquisitive two year old asked me the other night as I was getting some snuggles from her as I tucked her in, "Mommy, how I you best?" I couldn't help but smile. None of them had ever asked me that, but of course I had the answer. I told her that before God made her, He looked deep into Mommy and Daddy and found the very best parts of us to piece her together. It took Him a long time of course... about 9 months or so. But when she was finally perfected, He gave her her birthday. So when I say 'You're my best.' it is because all of the very best things about me are embodied in her. I didn't expect her to understand it really. Not yet anyway, but she seemed satisfied with that answer and slipped off to dream land.
Sometimes I find myself wondering about what kinds of things she will tell her babies to let them know that she holds nothing higher in her heart than them. That they have all of her best.
On a more silly note, on our way to church today Bug gave Bubba a quick lesson in match accessories! She has these little beaded bracelets my mom gave her for Christmas. She carries around a few with her at all times, and today she had some red ones and some brown ones. She was actually sharing with her brother for once and after she gave him a red one she gasped and exclaimed "It matches you jacket!!" and it did. She looked back at the other ones she had and squealed and chucked him a second one yelling "And this one matches you boots!!!" It was brown, like his boots. Her little face was just glowing and Bubba just looked baffled. He asked her why they had to match. Her answer: "The colors have to go the same or you look messy, just messy." She shook her head in disgust for his lack of understanding and I was dying of laughter. Once Bubba got the concept, he started point out other things they matched just to prove to her he got it. That seemed to make it better :))
What kind of 'job' gives you endless moments like THAT??
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