the two foot difference

As I am walking on my treadmill today, I noticed that if I moved it just two feet up I would be able to see out the window. So, I did.
For, no joke, the last three months I have been staring at drywall when I could have been gazing across the Arkansas River and the beautiful country side that graces it's edges.
I walked in amazement of the gorgeous view wondering what else I have been missing out of habit.
Being the philosopher at heart, I pondered perceptions, views and relationships.
What has been with me all along that I have missed because I have not made an attempt to look?
My new 2009 resolution is this: I resolve to let go of my perceptions and view the world with fresh, new eyes and find the beautiful views that have been available all along.

Home vs. House

Our house is covered in ice right now. No one is going out and no one is coming in, so our family is all we've had for the last twenty four hours and all we will have for the next twenty four hours.
We are all at home. Not because we spent a year building it and all the colors and granite are all that we visualized they would be, but because we are home with each other.
All three of us have our own interest, enjoy our own books and somehow manage to make it downstairs to the kitchen island at the same time to eat.
Our weaving into each other is part of our "home" culture.
All three of us are first born children, pretty stubborn and independent, yet at some point we manage to have the same needs around the same time and come together beautifully to meet them together.
At times I grew up in a few different houses, but always recognized the ones that were homes.
There is no place like home!

Quality vs. Quantity

As I have been preparing for our board meeting tonight I am reminded of the strength of my passion, and am thankful.
Last night, I was surrounded by people around late sixty to seventy plus. I paid attention to what was being said, what they verbalized as cares and concerns and what made them smile. All of them, no exceptions, seemed comfortable with their lifestyle and choices on the outside. But I couldn't help but wonder what they really thought. Did age bring a mastering of masks? Or did they get to live out what they believed and felt passionate about?
My heart sank to think of "running out of time" and wondered if they felt that way. Should I feel this way? I have lost so many young people in my life that being young doesn't mean longevity.
I couldn't help but recall the old saying, "quality verses quantity" and the importance of the quality of each day.
I am thankful for the quality of my life. Thankful for the balance of relationships and desire to change the world.
I do not know what tomorrow holds, but I have this moment and this passion and I am alive to enjoy it!

Dear Mom & Dad Letter

I know that you are hurting. I am hurting, too.
I feel and feed off your tension, fear and shock. Although I am young and cannot express verbally what is happening in our lives, I am still feeling the impact. My heart is broken every time I have to give up a parent. My sense of security is lost.
Please don't assume I am resilient. Please don't assume that my life will be exactly as it was and that I will continue to feel the same love from both of you. I am a human being just like you. My needs are just like yours. I need love, attention, nurturing, stability, consistency, affection, understanding, patience, and mostly to be wanted.
When you fight over me or put me in the middle of your argument you are sending me the message that winning with each other is more important than my life. I am learning from you that it is better to be right than to be loved. You are teaching me that I came from a person who is unlovable and wrong and that I am somehow wrong, too.
When you confide your hurt in my heart you are storing up adult pain and robbing me of my childhood. You are taking away my belief that love is unconditional and replacing it with a message that tells me to become hard and not to love because I will get hurt and not be able to recover. You may not understand this today and I am so small you are not thinking about my future, but you are putting me at a greater risk of getting a divorce myself.
At times you are risking my safety to fill a void in your heart. My safety is your job.
Without you and your protection I am unshielded from the world. This will manifest in irrational fears for me because I will stay in a state of fight or flight for most of my life.
Someday this initial shock will wear off, but how you choose to parent me through this crisis will never wear off. I will either feel your sense of selflessness, support, protection or I will have a scar on my heart with a message that reads, "Good things happen to good people...I must be bad."
Thoughtfully,
the child of divorce

What do you care about?

One of the saddest statements I have heard from friends is, "I really don't care about anything."
Have we really gotten that hardened as a society that people could coast through and not care about anything?
I have a theory, of course it is not a trained or researched theory, but could be true nonetheless.
I believe that some of the most sensitive, empathetic people on earth have chosen to "check out" because it was too painful to care about something.
After many disappointments and heart breaks they just decided it was easier to be numb.
If you are one of those people, and I pray you are not, my challenge to you would be to purposefully care and engage in your environment.
Life is simply to short not to care.
What do you really care about?

Train up a child

As I was getting my six, almost seven year old ready for the day this morning, it became obvious I am not equipped to "train up a child."
I am the mom who has the kleenex ready before the nose even runs, the water bottle squeezed on the sideline and the coat in the car "just in case." Some of these traits are a good thing, but some of them are because I have no clue how to teach independence.
I was a latchkey kid who survived. I had no formal training. I am not sure I even remember how I learned to run my own bath, tie my shoes or feed myself. I just learned. My needs developed my skill set.
But now, as a mom I find myself lost in this area. I am actually having to read books on teaching independence because the way I learned is not a nurturing option for my child.
Such a conflicting thing, to be incredibly proud of my resourceful ways, yet have no way of teaching them naturally.

Even Pretty Girls Experience Divorce

As I was thumbing through some research, I was reminded of a little girl that brought me to tears some months ago.
I was reading my book, A Heart with Two Homes, to fifth graders at a Tulsa Public School when I felt a tug at my pants. I looked down to be greeted by a student gazing at me as if she was shocked. She said, "I didn't think pretty people had to go through divorce."
Of course being a bit emotional, I asked if she truly believed what she looked like caused her parents divorce. With all sincerity I could see that she had convinced herself that if she had been prettier she could have prevented her daddy from moving out.
It is one thing to research some of these beliefs in books, they are stats, but quite another to look into the broken heart that wears that scar.

An assignment for you....

Divorce brings out a lot of emotions. Choose a few words that you would say define your experience..

broken promises
irrational fears

How long is he going to be gone?

Last night my daughter and I had dinner with a friend of hers that is just a couple of years older... cute, little guy. As we were driving to the restaurant they were talking about her dad being out of town and that she missed him so much that it hurt inside. This sweet boy said, "I know what you mean, how long is he going to be gone?"
She sadly responded, "I think two whole days."
He said, "really, I have to leave my dad for two weeks...you are really lucky."
I could not help but to blurt out, "blessed, not lucky, just blessed."
We talked more about how I grew up like him with divorced parents and had to feel that sadness inside, too.
As he felt a sense of camaraderie, he opened up about how much fighting he has witnessed over the years. Also, how he has a dog at each house and he misses them, too.
I fought back my own sense of empathy for this child and kept a dry eye until later that night.
As my head hit the pillow, I felt a sense of purpose and a commitment to teaching my daughter gratitude for her life with two parents with one home.
I do not have the time to befriend every peer out there, but I have a peer group who needs a voice, so I keep telling their stories.
Thanks for listening.

Stinky Thinking

I am a big fan of taking your thoughts captive. I think sometimes our thoughts are worse than the reality of our lives. The power of perception can dictate how we respond in life to our own definition of what our life should look like.
Last night, with some help from my emotional "Sherpa", I came to the realization that I allow everyone else to plan my spare time and I go with the strongest force. What a shame.
When I was younger I used to keep a really tight schedule of accomplishment to avoid having too much spare time. I guess I was brighter at 16 than I am now.
So, I have vowed to change the bad habit of believing my opinion of my recreation should be completely discounted and that I am not worth planning a bit more of my life.
Am I the only one? Have you ever felt like the empty spaces on your calendar are filled by the strongest forces in your life?

Love, Loss and Restoration

As I stood in the doorway of my five year old daughter's bedroom, wiping tears with the side of my sleeve, I watched her pounding, red face throw everything off her bed across the room. No words, just anger. She stood alone in her grief.
Her world had just been turned upside down.
She had helplessly watched her daddy move out.
Our pride, selfishness, lack of communication, mistrust, and anger towards one another meant nothing to her.
All she knew was her life was being dismantled.
A beautiful life filled with love and affection from her parents, grandparents, relatives, friends, classmates and neighbors.
She enjoyed the security of a daddy who went to work each day and a mommy who stayed home to nurture and train her.
In her world, she was center, a prized possession, prayed for, desired, and most importantly...loved.
What now?
Unfortunately, I could answer that question.
I lived it at one, three, seven, nine, twelve, and sixteen...with each divorce, a different life.
I knew her life would radically change.
Memories of my first experience with divorce flooded my mind. I found myself a broken thirty-three year old woman sobbing as the three year old that cried for her daddy to come home.
I stared at my cell phone seeing his number by this time crying hysterically because he had just died a few months prior and I needed him now more than I ever had as a child. I wanted to tell him that my heart was being ripped out and that I could not stop the pain. I wanted his gentle voice to calm my chaos.
Memories of his little, green truck pulling out of my mom's driveway knowing he would not be coming back for at least two weeks felt like a death each time.
I stood alone in my driveway with a broken heart.
The similarities of my life and my daughter's new life were more than I could bear. She was also left with a broken heart.
That night I was brought to my knees going to the only source of peace I had ever known, my Creator. As I cried and asked a million questions I felt His compassion and love fill the room. He reminded me that He fixes broken hearts. I prayed that He would mend my broken heart and allow me to love unconditionally as I had been made.
In the morning, I awoke to a restored heart. My broken heart and defenses that kept intimacy at such a distance had been mended with love and compassion for my husband and toward myself.
My husband was also receiving a mended heart through the love that we now were able to share. As he moved home, the blessing of this miracle poured out to our daughter who began to get her joy of love and peace back.
Now, a year and half later, we live in gratitude for the restoration of three broken hearts and a family legacy being changed forever.

50% of children who have been through a divorce become divorced themselves....