The Fine Line

There is a young woman in review of her life. She has three children, a fifteen year marriage, and her face is just beginning to show the marks of time. The oldest child has had significant health issues over the past few years. The husband is never one to be helpful or even around, for that matter. She does it all alone. She works around fifty hours a week and a lot of weekends. Her relationship with her parents and siblings have been, as most are, strained at times while happy at others. The woman feels alone, abandoned, and trapped like a caged animal by the constant verbal abuse from her spouse and subsequent tongue-lashings from her children who seem to aspire to be “just like daddy”. Even his vengeful cat snakes dangerously around her ankles, as if on purpose, when she is carrying a laundry basket or pile of toys.

Her husband works an unusual schedule but always has time for his friends. As far as abuse goes, he has never once considered her “abused”, after all, he has never laid a hand on her. If she would just “toughen up” and quit being such a baby, such a drama queen, everything would be okay… You know, her unhappiness is her own fault because she is never satisfied. Everything that is wrong falls on her shoulders so she can just blame herself. Everyone knows it, he says. She wants the moon, for heaven’s sake!

She pays the bills, keeps the house, and sends cookies to school for class parties. She smiles and throws up her hand in a big, ole down south country wave as friends pass by. The yard is mowed. The doctors are paid. Appointments are kept making sure to adjust her work schedule because hourly employees are slaves to the time clock. Book bags are ready every morning and every holiday is festive albeit, without any thank you’s.

She had thought more than a few times about leaving, but how could she? She didn’t make enough money to support the kids by herself and getting money from her husband would require far more than some judge telling him to ante up. Where would she go? Her father had made it clear that the “beds made were the beds that were slept in”. Her mother was really just an older version of herself, trying desperately to hold it together so that no one knew what went on outside of Sunday morning church. Would it be fair to the kids to take them away? Could she even get away? Is that why her mom, her best friend, and countless other women just stay no matter how miserably unhappy they are? Is it just how things are? If so many people are unhappy, maybe that’s the norm… Maybe she was asking for the moon…

Her best friend had said something a couple of years ago that she had never forgotten. The two had been out Christmas shopping without the kids, without the husbands, just the two of them. It had been a fantastic day and they were grabbing a bite to eat in the mall’s food court. They had just finished the spicy beef nachos when her best friend plunked down her plastic fork and said, “I hate my life. I am so unhappy every day that I wake up. I just want to run away. I want to pack a bag and go. The kids hate me because I am their only disciplinarian. Always the bad guy. I have never complained about Tom’s weekly poker night or the fact that he is more in love with the remote control than me. He will drop everything to meet up with a buddy or go out of his way to help his brother but the sun would sooner burn blue than for him to treat me like he did when we were dating. Why am I doing this? Why do I bother? I just want someone to love me without my having to earn it or jump through hoops to get it. Is this how my life is going to be until I die?”

Neither one of them said anything for some time and then her friend added one last comment…

“I just want to be loved by someone who wants to love me.”

The words sank in deep. The words meandered throughout her mind and heart and nestled down where those exact same words, those same exact thoughts, had burrowed before. Her best friend had given a voice to the very thoughts she herself had.

She used to want to be a something. Now, as she edges closer and closer to the next decade of her years, she knows she will have to remain a nothing. Dreams don’t come true for people like her.

This was her life. Married young. Kids came. Husband strayed. She stayed.

She is at work one day and a man smiles at her. The smile and the smile alone takes her aback because it is rather unique. Or is it? Hadn’t men smiled at her before? Why was this man’s smile striking a chord in her? They weren’t talking and she didn’t know him from Adam, and yet, he smiled at her. How long had it been since someone, some man smiled at her like that? The next day, she sees him...and he smiles, again.


It isn’t just between love and hate… It’s everywhere, that “fine line”… It doesn’t take much to transform a circumstance. One tiny degree renders an icicle, a puddle, does it not? Are our thoughts and feelings and emotions reliable for making the “right” choices when one, small degree can render our life forever changed? Do we all straddle the “fine line”...


The fine line between thinking it and saying it…


The fine line between entertaining the thought and living it out…


Lessons learned and new mistakes…


Staying while you “think about it” and just letting you go…


Spoken wishes and secret wants…


Staying and leaving…


Flattery and flirtation…


Manipulation and stratagem…


Abuse and enabling…


Ah, the fine line between your ego and mine…


Opportunities and conscience…


Needing counseling and being the cause of someone needing counseling…


Being a victim and being victimized…


A lie and well-crafted truth…


Vulnerability and preservation…


The fine line between being your friend and your being my enemy…


Allowing the chips to fall where they may and interfering…


My pleasure and your desire…


Knowing when to be silent and when to scream…


Taking a chance and walking away…


Laughing with you and crying over you…


Hating myself or hating you…


Feeling like trash on the curb and being swept away…


Hoping you will call and praying you don’t…


Vindication and apology…


Moral sentiments and moral living…


Listening to lies and believing them…


Explanation and excuse…


My care and my apathy…


Trusting in your truth and falling for your lies…


Hating how you love this and loving how you hate this…


Isolation and insouciance…


The fine line between God’s forgiveness and sinning again…


Smiling back at him…


A caveat from you and a farewell from me…


Farewell.

Gracefully Slender in Figure

I heard the word when I was a kid. I thought it sounded so wonderfully chic, not even knowing what "chic" even was. I never forgot the word and always wanted that word used to describe me...

Not as a teenager, although I remembered the word while a teen. I knew I was growing and maturing and was hopefully heading toward such description.

Marriage. Children. Apple strudel from German bakeries. I had never forgotten the word in my mind, although my waistline seemed to have.

Happy workplace. Unhappy workplace. A new, happy, HAPPY workplace. I still remembered.

Good choices. Detrimental decisions. Cancer. Oh, to conquer cancer AND be described that way!!

But, no...

Not until today, that is.

Today, someone described me as such and I was so taken aback, I had them repeat it...twice!

Today, when I wasn't trying and wasn't worrying and wasn't obsessing and wasn't waiting on someone, it happened.

"How do you keep your svelte figure?"

And there it was..."svelte".

Ahhhh. Thank you.

My Precious Son

If I was just cuddling him as he lay in my arms while we took a daily nap, how is it Senior Night?

If I was just teaching him his letters, colors, and shapes, how is it Senior Night?

If I was just exploring his first zoo with him, how is it Senior Night?

If I was just helping him learn to tie his shoes, how is it Senior Night?

If I was just holding him tight as he heard thunder for the first time, how is it Senior Night?

If I was just singing all the songs from the Lion King with him, how is it Senior Night?

If I just found the cutest pair of little, size 1 hiking boots for him, how is it Senior Night?

If I just had to coax him to eat something other than cheese and eggs for three months, how is it Senior Night?

If I just taught him how to make and decorate sugar cookies, how is it Senior Night?

If I just tucked him into bed and held his little hands in mine while he said his prayers, how is it Senior Night?

I don’t know how it is Senior Night. What I DO know is that my baby boy is now six feet, four inches. His body is so long that he has to sleep catty-corner in his bed in order to fit. I know that time, while sometimes has been my friend, in this instance, has been my arch nemesis.

There was no sweeter little boy than my Precious Son. He was attentive and kind-hearted to everyone. He was always interested in what others had to say. He was incredibly easy to teach. Always anxious to learn and know and experiment with new things. This boy had a head full of curly, blonde hair that made other mothers quite envious. This sweet child would readily give you his last cookie because your happiness meant more to him than his own…especially if you were little sister.

There are no words to express what it is that I am feeling. Maybe because there are many more than one feeling to feel. I am happy for his health and well-being as he rapidly approaches college and leaving home. I am excited for the opportunities in front of him as a young man learning and navigating the seas of adulthood. I am proud of his accomplishments and his ease with which he approaches life. He has been likened to “water off a duck’s back”, so many times for good reason. This young man cares nothing for material objects or status. He is goal-driven and career oriented as his greatest desire is to become a youth minister in the Christian church. How could I not be thrilled by all my son has in front of him? His life is about to take off and he is so excited for the prospects. What is it that makes me so very, very sad?

His new life will be without me.

There are so many things that I wanted to do before he left home. So many experiences and adventures I wanted to share with him. I wanted to go to Niagara Falls with him, something we had talked about a lot. The two of us. Beautiful Daughter and Big Daddy have never been interested in going there. (“What’s to see but a bunch of water and then what? Head home?”) And what about he and I going on a road trip to visit all sorts of colleges, say for example, the ones I was interested in when I was seventeen? No, no road trip. He has his heart set on a particular Bible college and won’t even complete an application for anywhere else. No need to, he says. God wants him there. Well, who am I to argue with God?

Precious Son may not think twice about material things, but I do. I think about how I was going to re-do his bedroom this time, that time, and all the other times. How I started off on task and had the nursery in primary colors and teddy bears to stimulate his learning and something or other to do with his brain synapses. As a toddler, I was still on track with Thomas the Tank border and lots of wall clings depicting Mr. Conductor and Shining Time Station.

School began for Precious Son and his tastes matured significantly, leaving Thomas behind and diving into Pokemon and Beyblades. I remember sitting through quite possibly the worst movie ever made (e-v-e-r) as Precious Son turned seven. “Pokemon: The First Movie” was beyond horrible, but there I sat with Precious Son and his little friends as they watched Pikachu save the day or win the battle or something. Anyway, they were all very happy that Pikachu lived and we headed back to our little house and had delicious homemade cake and ice cream as we sang “Happy Birthday” to my little boy.

At some point, I fell behind. Precious Son’s room had UK basketball posters on the walls and an occasional calendar from the Broncos, but he never had the room I had envisioned for him. I wanted him to have a room reflective of who he was and who he was becoming. I wanted to have a place for his trophies, ribbons, and awards. I wanted bookshelves filled with every book he had ever read and some classics tucked in there for him to find when he wasn’t necessarily looking. You know, to pick up and read for us to discuss later. I wanted his room to be contemporary, sporting autographed pictures from his favorite athletes and teams along with memorabilia from all the cool games he had attended with his Dad and the jerseys he had accumulated from each game adorning the wall. His room was to have the coolest flat screen tv with an X-Box attached to it and plenty of room for the “Rock Band” drum set, microphone, and extra guitars.

The futon would be quite handy as his friends came over to play video games into the wee hours and ended up spending the night. The computer desk was to be angled, so as to sit neatly and efficiently into one particular corner of his room with a lava light, not only for light itself but also to up the ante on the “cool factor”. His computer would be the latest, greatest computer that did not become obsolete as soon as we walked out of Best Buy. He would be able to listen to his music on his Bose stereo and with the touch of his finger, he could adjust the volume, change the song, or mute if Rose called. His friends would continually comment how awesome his parents were and what an awesome room he had.

I am sure some boys grow up and into rooms like those, but mine didn’t. It wasn’t painted in a really neat way that was reminiscent of something you would see on one of those “room makeover” shows. You know, the room that all the kids in the neighborhood wish were theirs? Well, Precious Son did end up with an X-Box and Rock Band, but the drum set had to be moved into a corner when not in use due to lack of space. Many a friend spent many a night on that futon and the tv, although not a high tech flat screen, still served him well as he watched countless games. His awards, ribbons, and trophies have migrated over the years into his “memory box”…the box I have made him keep despite his notion that it’s more for me than him. *the boy is a genius*

The room was never big enough and the closet I wanted for him never came to pass. I had always envisioned walk-in closets for each of us. The kind you can walk in and sit down on a fainting couch whilst you sort through your never ending choices of Tommy, Abercrombie, and L.L. Bean. Maybe even the kind of closet that boasts rotating racks and rows for shoes to sit on; drawers and sweater keepers; and even a false wall where the gems and jewels are hidden.

Ok. So, Precious Son did not have that kind of room, despite it having been thought of (considerably and obviously) by me over the years. There has been plenty of memorabilia on the walls and we have talked about a book here and there, although the books that have lived on his shelves were more along the lines of “required summer reading”. And now? We have just enjoyed our last summer of his high school years.

Did we enjoy it? We went to the beach…again. We always go to the beach. He went to three weeks of band camp, like he has the past three summers. He went to church camp for two different sessions, like he has done every year since middle school. That was his summer. The beach, church camp, and band. It doesn’t sound like much of a summer for a kid to me. My summers were so incredibly long. I went to church camp for a week if I did anything and just played outside with Cathy Beleau. We would get out of school in June and not have to go back until after Labor Day. They were full, long days of doing nothing but seeing who could swing the highest and playing Barbies. The summers of my childhood were rather uneventful. The summers of my son’s have been exhausting.

I wanted to take him to new places, show him new things. I wanted to visit most of the States with him and see the sights this nation has to offer. I wanted to go to Washing, D.C. with him and have him and Beautiful Daughter listen as their Dad recounted his days in the military and what those monuments meant to him as a soldier, as an American. I wanted to hang out with him and talk about nothing or anything or both. Sharing the same sense of humor, I wanted to laugh uncontrollably with him as we went to comedy venues. I wanted to be the one he turned to as he watched some amazing tale unfold before his eyes in a barely lit theatre and listen to him whisper, “Mom, this is so great.”

I remember thinking how cool it would be to have kids old enough to play board games with…not the baby board games, but like Dominoes or Catch Phrase. Well, by God if the kids didn’t become old enough to play those very games and we rarely did. Seemed like we needed company to come over in order to play them. Of course, now that my time has passed, I clearly see the error of my ways. The old saying about having 20-20 hindsight…God, I live in that saying, it seems.

It wasn’t that I wanted to share and give and do all these things with only Precious Son and not Beautiful Daughter, of course I did and still do. I have a bit less than three years left with her before she goes to college… Again, I have tricked myself into believing there is time.

I am so utterly sad… I have tried to reconcile my feelings and they refuse. I know, as much as I don’t want to know, that when he leaves for college in a few months, he is gone. He will come back a man. He will be in charge of making his own decisions as well as accepting the consequences of his actions. If he gets hurt, will he even call? Probably not, because he is so protective of me and not having me worry. If he needs something, will he ask? If he gets lonely, will he call me? If he wants to come home, will he admit it?

The day is coming and I sit, almost afraid to move as it nears. I never took him on a dude ranch holiday where we would pack up a mountain, live off the land, and camp out under the stars like real cowboys. (Of course, we would actually need real cowboys because I don't know how to live off the land OR camp, but still...)

The states we have seen were mostly because we traveled through them or lived in them…not really some grand road trip where you get to see the largest ball of twine or a 17 foot motorized peanut that winks and waves as cars pass by. We did go to the Grand Canyon and did a big circle from Colorado to Arizona, Nevada, Utah and back to Colorado. We have driven through Kansas enough to know we hate that state. We have been all over Germany, Paris, and Austria. We have traveled the east coast and have watched the sun both rise and set in silence. We have enjoyed summers on the lake on our boat. He and his Dad have watched the Broncos play live and he has enjoyed meeting some of his all-time favorite athletes. He had a nice room and a got a car when he became a licensed driver. He has always had a cell phone and a computer. He is a great game player and usually wins when there is a mathematical side to it. His friends can be found at our house as easily as at their own homes and his girlfriend considers us her family. Precious Son is a professional gamer when it comes to X-Box and has the nickname “Thumbs McGee”.

It isn’t that I think Precious Son grew up disadvantaged. It isn’t that at all. He has obviously had the coolest games and some great travels. He lived in Europe for three years. He has a lava lamp. He has seen and done quite a bit… I just wanted his childhood to be fabulously happy. I wanted him to only have great days. I wanted him to see and do things that others only read about. I wanted him to know he was loved. I wanted him to be thrilled he was mine. Even if all that were true, I just want…more.

This is my material list, for Pete's sake! What about all the other stuff?

Did I teach you well, My Son?

Did I teach you that it is always God first, not just when it is convenient?

Did I teach you that being a Christian is a full-time job, not just for Sundays?

Did you understand why we forgave the people who have hurt us?

Did you believe me when I said I never knew what love was until I had you?

Did you trust me when I told you that love needs to be unconditional and we are all undeserving of God's?

Will you remember that all satan needs is a foothold and to guard yourself, your family, and your heart at all times with the armor of God?

Will you remember that boundaries mean love, not restriction?

Will you understand that sometimes you were told "no" out of love, not "just because"?

Will you remember the less fortunate in your prayers and remain forever grateful for your infinite blessings?

Will you trust in the Lord, God Almighty for every question and concern?

Will you lean on Christ when you don't understand why things happen, why people die, and man's inhumanity to man?

Will you stay and hold your wife tightly so that she feel safe when you are terrified and want to run?

Will you remember that Christ died for you, for me, for all of us?

Guard your heart, your mind, your life.

Forgive.

Be careful, little eyes, what you see...

Be careful, little ears, what you hear...

For the Father up above is looking down in love, so be careful, little eyes, what you see...

Life is not going to go according to your plans. You must stay alert and aware of becoming complacent, disconnected, and distracted. God will not move, Son. I promise you, this.

I wanted to do so much more for you, Son. I wanted to give you the world, not a minute piece of it. I wanted you to know all the important things and lessons...and rely on God at all times, not just when things get rough. I want you to have a thankful heart, and you have had. I wanted you to realize that you are a child of God, Himself, and He loves you infinitely. I wanted all you had experienced to be wonderful, life-affirming and safe.

God loved you enough to send His one and only Son...

I would never be able to do that for the sins of others... As much as I cannot fathom His love, I know His love for you is even more than mine, and it pains me to say that for I love you with all that I am, Son.

I watched you sleep as a baby…your chest rising and falling with each breath. I needed to make sure you were ok, healthy, alive. I hope I met you with open arms every time you were hurt, whether physically or emotionally because if you were in pain, it crushed my very soul. Son, my precious, precious Son, you are soon to embark on the rest of your life…your life without me as your decision maker, your confidante. You will soon leave this home in order to create one of your very own, and while this is exciting for you, I miss you already.

While pregnant with your little sister, we would nap together, you and I. We would lie on our left side, you cuddled up against me and my right arm over your arm, and our hands tucked together into your chest. Your head would lay safely on my left arm and we would sleep. This shall remain one of my most fond memories of your childhood until I take my last breath…

I wanted to give you the world, for you were, and will always continue to be mine.

You taught me how to love... My forever prayer is that I taught you the same...

"Slow Fade" by Casting Crowns

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0wo26sCH-Fw

Beautiful Daughter's Homecoming

The last time I wrote, it was after my altercation at a band competition. The weekend after that particular incident, was Homecoming for Lafayette. Precious Son and his girlfriend of two years, Rose, had long planned out what they were going to wear and who would be in their group as well as where the group would be going for dinner, etc. Beautiful Daughter, on the other hand, with her boyfriend in another state, was afraid to get her hopes up that he would be able to come. After all, Homecoming was on Saturday night, but her Quarterback had a BIG game on Friday night in Indiana. As it happened, Beautiful Daughter was able to attend Quarterback’s big game against his rival team AND ride back to Kentucky with him for Homecoming.

Now, before you panic about our parenting, Quarterback’s big brother is Beautiful Daughter’s youth minister, so Quarterback stayed with Youth Minister and Beautiful Daughter stayed at home. These two young people met on New Year’s Eve at a church lock-in. They hit it off right away and spent the next several months talking and texting. Five months ago, despite the distance, Quarterback asked Beautiful Daughter to be his girlfriend. They really have worked very hard on maintaining a relationship despite the four hour drive between them. I, for one, am impressed. Not to mention the fact that we love Quarterback. He is a devout Christian and so incredibly involved in schoolwork, football, basketball, and farming, that he barely has time to sleep…and he makes Beautiful Daughter happy. I don’t know where the relationship will go, but for today, they are happy.

Homecoming. We picked up Quarterback and had him for the day. We ran errands all day…Chik Fil A, picking up corsages, and general running around. Before you knew it, Beautiful Daughter and Quarterback were ready to go have pictures made. Precious Son and Rose were there, too, along with their group. I must say, the pictures turned out very well. Of course, it is difficult to take a bad picture of gorgeous people. The “group” went on to dinner while Beautiful Daughter and Quarterback went to a Japanese dinner show alone. They had a very nice time just enjoying each other’s company and not posing for pictures. *smirk*

The dance ended and Quarterback came to the house and he and Beautiful Daughter watched a movie. Precious Son went to Rose’s house and they did the same thing. Eventually, it was time to take Quarterback to his brother’s house as it was nearing 1:30 in the morning and church attendance was a must for everyone. As I kissed Beautiful Daughter goodnight and told her I loved her, she smiled. Not an everyday smile, but a serene smile and I knew she was happy…

Beautiful Daughter was up bright and early getting ready for church and she again, looked lovely. Quarterback’s family invited her to go to lunch with them and she did. When they dropped her off at the house, the ease and comfortableness that had been evident from the first “hello”, was still very present between herself and Quarterback. Honestly, they are a truly adorable couple. Now, I know better than to plan the wedding with her being 15, but I have to say, Quarterback would be a terrific son-in-law someday. He opens the door for her, helps her with her jacket, and does all the gentlemanly things he should do for a young lady. His manners are impeccable and he thinks I am funny. Oh, and get this… Big Daddy likes him a lot, too.

It broke my heart as they pulled out of driveway and headed toward Indiana because I knew it was only a matter of time before my baby girl’s heart would feel like it was breaking into tiny, little pieces as the realization of not being able to see Quarterback for a long while would sink in. I knew the tears would be coming and the young lady, so independent and stoic, would melt into my arms as her stinging eyes and exhaustion would lead to sleep.

We slept for a while and when Beautiful Daughter woke up, she gathered herself and got ready for the youth group at church that evening. She is so much like her father, preferring to be seen as invulnerable and phlegmatic while I not only wear my emotions on my sleeve but also send out memos to make sure you know how I am feeling. This girl, this sweet, sweet girl… *sigh* … Most of you will never know her, not like I do. You will never see the tender side, the scared little girl side, the confused-about-life-and-feelings-and-boys side. You will never know how she cries for the homeless and how she prays for the abused. This girl is so complex with feelings and emotions that she doesn’t understand herself…with struggles that every other teenage girl must endure. She will never know how beautiful she is to me, inside and out. This girl, my daughter, my love… You will see her stand strong in adversity and never shed a tear in your presence. You will see her defend the defenseless without fear for her own safety. She will cheer the underdog and sit with the new kid who has no friends because he is morbidly obese and therefore, an automatic outcast. She will rally for those who will not stand up for themselves and she will make you laugh when you can literally feel the tears welling up inside of you.

You will see that strong, unflappable young girl at school, at church, at youth events…but you will never see the young girl I see when she allows her defenses to be lowered and she is just a little girl…my little girl. When you see her, please know, she may not be as strong as she appears… She is me.