It was Parent Teacher Conference time this past week. Lindy doesn't get too hyped up about it but I really enjoy going. This year, unfortunately, I only had one conference to go to out of three kids. Jac's in high school and my guess is that they don't have Parent Teacher Conference in high school unless there's an issue. Ethan never shared any information with me about his middle school conferences OR I completely overlooked the email that came to me about it. That's a pretty good possibility. Anyway, they are both doing well in all their classes and aren't having issues in high school or middle school so I wasn't too concerned about them.
The Gav, though, is still only a second grader so I was excited to go to his conference and hear what his teacher had to say. Amazingly, after having three kids go through the same elementary school we have only experienced one year where one of them had the same teacher as another. Gavin had Jac's kindergarten teacher and she spent half the year calling him Jac because she said he looked so much like Jac in kindergarten that it was uncanny. (That was true, for sure). Gavin has a teacher for 2nd grade who has taught at the school for many years but I had never met her up until a couple weeks ago. So, I went to the conference expecting to hear a few things:
--Gav catches on to things really quickly--check!
--Gav is one of the best readers in his class--check!
--Gav is really good at math--check!
He has done really well in school since the beginning of kindergarten--no thanks to preschool of any kind, only thanks to Grammy School which he attended three days each week since birth. We have been amazed at how well he has caught on to all things academic. Of course, his teacher also told me that Gavin has great "comedic timing." Oh boy. That's no big surprise. He also writes books for fun and takes it very literally when she tells the class to write a sentence using a particular word. In fact, a couple times already she has said something like "Write a sentence that includes the word "as" in the body of the sentence." And, little wise guy Gav writes the sentence verbatim just as she has quoted it. "Write a sentence that includes...." Yeah. She had to put a stop to that.
But, even though I was expecting to hear all the things I listed above I wasn't expecting to hear the following: Not long after I arrived at the conference his teacher told me that she was sitting in his desk. The students' desks are set up in pods of four with the four children facing each other. She asked me if Gavin had mentioned a boy named Sam (not his real name) who sits to Gavin's left. I told her I wasn't sure about this but if he had it wasn't anything that I remembered. She said that Sam is pretty disruptive in class and can be very loud and pretty much "wild." But, she said the thing that she has been most impressed with is Gavin's interaction with Sam. Gavin is very patient and calm and laid back and just takes Sam in stride. She said that even if Sam is right there in Gavin's face that he is always just kind and caring toward Sam. As a result, Sam has attached himself to Gavin and views Gavin as his friend when many of the other kids in class aren't sure how to act around Sam.
Honestly, I just sat there stunned into silence. You see, Gavin can be very sweet and has no problem at all sitting still when it's required of him, but "calm," "patient," and "laid back" aren't necessarily words I would use to describe him. I just wanted to cry because I was bursting with pride. Hearing how well he's doing academically pales in comparison to hearing that our 7-year-old is showing grace and compassion to another little boy. This means more to me than anything else. I always pray that my boys would shine the light of Jesus to everyone around them. They go to public school and, truthfully, there's not a lot of "light" in public schools anymore. Lindy and I have made a choice to allow our kids to attend public school where the light is so desperately needed in this world of darkness. It once again reaffirms our decision because Gav might be the only source of light in this little boy's life. He doesn't have to preach to him to show him the love of Jesus. He just has to be himself and practice kindness and patience. What a beautiful thing.
Summer 2012
Sunday, October 20, 2013
Monday, July 22, 2013
Looking for Love in All the Right Places
Sometimes starting again is the hardest part after distancing yourself from something for so long. So it is with my blog. I started my blog almost three years ago and I haven't always been consistent with it but the last six months is the longest dry spell I've had so far.
I was talking with a co-worker today about how it seems that when you are grieving or you've experienced something traumatic sometimes you can keep people and difficult conversations and tough topics at arm's length. It's like you can only take on so much sadness at once or so much stress at once. You kind of put up a wall and sort of let things bounce off of you rather than sticking to you and weighing you down more. I know that's a lot of metaphors to take in but that's my thought process right now. If you're my friend in real life and you feel I've held you at arm's length, I apologize. I've pretty much been in survival mode but I'm slowly coming back. Slowly. Baby steps.
So, this is a baby step back to blogging. Something I really enjoy but have at times felt too raw or transparent to share anything and at times I have not felt at all like being funny. As I soooooo am, most of the time.
My three sons are back in pocket now after spending most of the summer at camp or at my Mom's house. (Honestly, it's just hard even saying or typing "my Mom's house" when it's always been "my parents' house"). They have each gotten to spend some time with my brother too which I think is just an awesome dynamic for my boys to get to be around the person who I learned the most about boys growing up. They are each like him in some ways and not like him in some ways. But, with each of them you really have to look for love in all the right places. I'm only going to point out a couple so that I don't get overwhelmed in my baby steps back to blogging.
The last time my Mom came to visit she brought me food. That might seem odd unless you knew my Dad. You see, she has more food at her house than one, or two, people could ever eat. We found out after my Dad died that he had been spending more than $400 a month buying groceries in bulk. If you needed he had it, and he's given lots and lots of food away. Now, every time my Mom comes to visit she still brings food. The last time she came there was a lone can of tamales in the mix. I was kind of surprised and asked her about it. She said, "Your brother insisted I bring that for you. He said you love canned tamales." (Now this is true, but I have resisted canned tamales for a long time because of obvious reasons--fat and calories). Still, I was touched that he remembered. We haven't really lived in the same house for more than 20 years and he still remembered that I loved canned tamales. That may not be an obvious sign of where to look for love, but if you knew my brother, that can of tamales spoke volumes to me. Now, it sits in my pantry and I think of him every time I look at it. If he reads this he will be rolling his eyes at that.
Ethan, my 11-year-old, is similar in that you really have to look for his love in the right places. He begrudgingly lets me hug and kiss him but when I'm really looking for love from him I can find it. When Ethan and Gavin are in the car with me, mostly on Sunday morning, I let them be the DJ. We have Bluetooth and I give them my iPhone and let them take turns picking songs. Ethan invariably will pick songs he knows that I like and he will get on to Gavin if Gavin picks songs that he knows that I don't like. That is love. It may not seem like much, but from an 11-year-old, that is love in a song for his Mom.
Well, there you have it. One baby step to end a dry spell. Enjoy, and don't forget to look for love in all the right places.
Love to all,
I was talking with a co-worker today about how it seems that when you are grieving or you've experienced something traumatic sometimes you can keep people and difficult conversations and tough topics at arm's length. It's like you can only take on so much sadness at once or so much stress at once. You kind of put up a wall and sort of let things bounce off of you rather than sticking to you and weighing you down more. I know that's a lot of metaphors to take in but that's my thought process right now. If you're my friend in real life and you feel I've held you at arm's length, I apologize. I've pretty much been in survival mode but I'm slowly coming back. Slowly. Baby steps.
So, this is a baby step back to blogging. Something I really enjoy but have at times felt too raw or transparent to share anything and at times I have not felt at all like being funny. As I soooooo am, most of the time.
My three sons are back in pocket now after spending most of the summer at camp or at my Mom's house. (Honestly, it's just hard even saying or typing "my Mom's house" when it's always been "my parents' house"). They have each gotten to spend some time with my brother too which I think is just an awesome dynamic for my boys to get to be around the person who I learned the most about boys growing up. They are each like him in some ways and not like him in some ways. But, with each of them you really have to look for love in all the right places. I'm only going to point out a couple so that I don't get overwhelmed in my baby steps back to blogging.
The last time my Mom came to visit she brought me food. That might seem odd unless you knew my Dad. You see, she has more food at her house than one, or two, people could ever eat. We found out after my Dad died that he had been spending more than $400 a month buying groceries in bulk. If you needed he had it, and he's given lots and lots of food away. Now, every time my Mom comes to visit she still brings food. The last time she came there was a lone can of tamales in the mix. I was kind of surprised and asked her about it. She said, "Your brother insisted I bring that for you. He said you love canned tamales." (Now this is true, but I have resisted canned tamales for a long time because of obvious reasons--fat and calories). Still, I was touched that he remembered. We haven't really lived in the same house for more than 20 years and he still remembered that I loved canned tamales. That may not be an obvious sign of where to look for love, but if you knew my brother, that can of tamales spoke volumes to me. Now, it sits in my pantry and I think of him every time I look at it. If he reads this he will be rolling his eyes at that.
Ethan, my 11-year-old, is similar in that you really have to look for his love in the right places. He begrudgingly lets me hug and kiss him but when I'm really looking for love from him I can find it. When Ethan and Gavin are in the car with me, mostly on Sunday morning, I let them be the DJ. We have Bluetooth and I give them my iPhone and let them take turns picking songs. Ethan invariably will pick songs he knows that I like and he will get on to Gavin if Gavin picks songs that he knows that I don't like. That is love. It may not seem like much, but from an 11-year-old, that is love in a song for his Mom.
Well, there you have it. One baby step to end a dry spell. Enjoy, and don't forget to look for love in all the right places.
Love to all,
Sunday, January 20, 2013
The Goodbye Tour
Well, I've been living now for two months without my Dad. It still seems surreal and sometimes the shock of it just catches me off guard all over again. A lot of people ask how I'm doing, how my Mom's doing, how my brother is doing. I'm still amazed at the kindness of people and I hope I can continually be more mindful to acknowledge others' grief because the remembrances and thoughtfulness really does bring comfort to me.
A little more than a month ago my sister-in-law, Lisa (my brother's wife), and I were emailing back and forth and I mentioned that my brother and I are both of the mindset to "Keep Calm and Carry On." She said that we are an interesting bit of human study for her and we are more alike than different in that way. That is true. We get that from my Dad, but my Mom is of stronger stock than anyone might realize--especially her. She spent 51 years of marriage, and her life since the age of 18, loving the same man. Then, in a matter of seconds she watched him die right in front of her and suddenly she was forced into a new and different phase of her life. She is an extraordinary example of peace in the midst of sorrow, strength in the face of the unknown, and comfort in the lives of those around her who are also grieving the loss of her husband. The recurring conversation she and I have had centers around how very, very blessed we are to have lost Dad the way we did (suddenly, without pain or fading away) and our blessed hope that we will see Him again one day as we know where he is right now. Our hearts are saddened to think of everyone who believes that death on this earth is the end. It isn't the end, it's only the beginning. The real question is where you will spend eternity.
So, the title of this post is "The Goodbye Tour." If you were a faithful "Everybody Loves Raymond" viewer then you might recognize that reference. It has a bit of a different connotation here. On one of the "Raymond" episodes Robert and Amy were leaving a party and he was making fun of her because she couldn't leave a party without going around to everyone to say good bye. This "goodbye tour," as he termed it, took quite a bit of time. Well, my Mom and I weren't leaving a party but we did go on a "goodbye tour" of our own on behalf of my Dad. He died so suddenly that he didn't get to say goodbye to anyone--not even her. The day after his funeral Mom was ready to start taking care of business in the community and letting people other than friends and family know that he had passed away. I was really just along for the ride and my job was to "Drive Miss Daisy" and lend support.
The first place we stopped was the bank where he did all of his business inside the bank. My Dad was never one for drive-throughs of any variety. From the time I was a little girl we went inside the bank, inside Wendy's (his favorite fast food place), inside anywhere else that gave you the option to drive through. He said it was because he wanted to be face to face and look in the eye of anyone with whom he was conducting business. Personally, I think a bit of it was to do with the fact that he couldn't hear very well in the drive through, something he wouldn't really admit. Anyway, I can't say that I ever recall going through a drive through with my Dad. We always went inside and he was always friendly and talkative with everyone. When we went to the bank we waited to speak with someone at one of the desks, rather than the tellers, because we needed to also take care of some business. The girl we spoke with--I say "girl" because she was younger than me--clearly remembered my Dad. She said he came in frequently...true...and he had just been in the week before...true, because he and Mom were supposed to be traveling to Louisiana the day he died. Dad didn't believe in ATM cards--never had one, never wanted one--so he always went to the bank to get cash before taking a trip out of town. This girl said that from the time he realized her last name ended with "hl" he was always coming into the bank and telling her new surnames of celebrities and well-known people that he had discovered whose name also ended in "hl." You see, my Dad's interaction with and thoughts of people didn't just begin and end in what they could do for him, but he took a personal interest in them. I guarantee you that not only was he searching for new names he had found to take to this girl, he was also praying for her. That was just his way.
Our next stop was the grocery store where he would secretly pay for people's groceries on a regular basis. (If you aren't familiar with that part of my Dad's history then you'll just have to go back and read my previous post about my piece of his funeral. I explain it there). We went to the manager's desk and spoke with both store managers. We explained that my Dad had passed away and Mom showed them his picture. They recognized him and were so very sad to hear he had died. We told them we wanted to settle up any accounts for groceries that he hadn't yet paid for but he had already taken care of that and there weren't any open accounts. Mom and I picked up and paid for a few items we needed while we were there and as we were walking out the door one of the managers handed us a ham and told us once again how sorry he was for our loss. A ham for condolences. Isn't that kind? His legacy lives on because our friend who played the piano at his funeral donated the check she received to the grocery store to be able to help with someone else's groceries. Dad would have loved that. He had talked about wanting to take some of his white shirts to one of the managers at the store because he had to wear white shirts and looked like he needed some more to wear. Mom and I had them cleaned and then took them back to the store the next week. He was very appreciative.
Our next stop was to Dad's barber. Now, you might think a man's relationship with his barber is no big thing. But to my Dad, his relationship with everyone was a big thing. His barber had already received a call--actually from an old friend of mine who's father also goes to the same barber--but he was still overcome with emotion when we stopped in to see him. There we were in a barber shop, that was desperately in need of a woman's touch, and I'm watching as my Mom comforts Dad's barber as he sheds tears of sorrow. I think they were tears of sorrow, but they could also be tears shed by someone losing a very good customer. My Dad went to get his hair cut every three weeks. I'm just joking about that...but not the part about Dad getting a haircut every three weeks. That part is very true.
All in all, our goodbye tour brought a lot of healing for my Mom and me. It was wonderful to hear the stories about my Dad that we wouldn't have heard otherwise and it was nice to see that my Dad's presence in people's every day lives would be missed. Of course, we miss him because he's part of us but to have others who just knew him as he went about his business of being himself miss him is special indeed.
A parting thought that I might write about more later. This may seem odd to some but I ponder odd things at times. My parents were 32 and 40 years old when I was born. I remember during the years approaching the exact age that my Mom was when I was born I thought about how many years of her life she lived before I was a part of it. As an egocentric child of two parents it's easy to wonder how they ever lived without me, but they lived many years of their lives before I was ever a part of it. I've been thinking about my Dad in that way since I turned 40 years old last July. My Dad lived 40 years, 8 months and 4 days before I became part of who he was. A little while after my Dad passed away I realized that I didn't make it to the age my Dad was when I was born before he was gone from my life. I know that's deep and maybe it's irrelevant to most who would read it. It's just interesting to me as I reflect back on my life to think of how long my Dad lived without me in his life and now how long I will (may) live without him in mine. After all, one of the biggest lessons I've been reminded of through this experience is that none of us is promised tomorrow.
Sorry to end on a deep note. That's all I've got for today. I promise the "funny" will be back in full swing at some point. Right now, it's just an accomplishment to write anything.
Thank you for reading. Love to all.
A little more than a month ago my sister-in-law, Lisa (my brother's wife), and I were emailing back and forth and I mentioned that my brother and I are both of the mindset to "Keep Calm and Carry On." She said that we are an interesting bit of human study for her and we are more alike than different in that way. That is true. We get that from my Dad, but my Mom is of stronger stock than anyone might realize--especially her. She spent 51 years of marriage, and her life since the age of 18, loving the same man. Then, in a matter of seconds she watched him die right in front of her and suddenly she was forced into a new and different phase of her life. She is an extraordinary example of peace in the midst of sorrow, strength in the face of the unknown, and comfort in the lives of those around her who are also grieving the loss of her husband. The recurring conversation she and I have had centers around how very, very blessed we are to have lost Dad the way we did (suddenly, without pain or fading away) and our blessed hope that we will see Him again one day as we know where he is right now. Our hearts are saddened to think of everyone who believes that death on this earth is the end. It isn't the end, it's only the beginning. The real question is where you will spend eternity.
So, the title of this post is "The Goodbye Tour." If you were a faithful "Everybody Loves Raymond" viewer then you might recognize that reference. It has a bit of a different connotation here. On one of the "Raymond" episodes Robert and Amy were leaving a party and he was making fun of her because she couldn't leave a party without going around to everyone to say good bye. This "goodbye tour," as he termed it, took quite a bit of time. Well, my Mom and I weren't leaving a party but we did go on a "goodbye tour" of our own on behalf of my Dad. He died so suddenly that he didn't get to say goodbye to anyone--not even her. The day after his funeral Mom was ready to start taking care of business in the community and letting people other than friends and family know that he had passed away. I was really just along for the ride and my job was to "Drive Miss Daisy" and lend support.
The first place we stopped was the bank where he did all of his business inside the bank. My Dad was never one for drive-throughs of any variety. From the time I was a little girl we went inside the bank, inside Wendy's (his favorite fast food place), inside anywhere else that gave you the option to drive through. He said it was because he wanted to be face to face and look in the eye of anyone with whom he was conducting business. Personally, I think a bit of it was to do with the fact that he couldn't hear very well in the drive through, something he wouldn't really admit. Anyway, I can't say that I ever recall going through a drive through with my Dad. We always went inside and he was always friendly and talkative with everyone. When we went to the bank we waited to speak with someone at one of the desks, rather than the tellers, because we needed to also take care of some business. The girl we spoke with--I say "girl" because she was younger than me--clearly remembered my Dad. She said he came in frequently...true...and he had just been in the week before...true, because he and Mom were supposed to be traveling to Louisiana the day he died. Dad didn't believe in ATM cards--never had one, never wanted one--so he always went to the bank to get cash before taking a trip out of town. This girl said that from the time he realized her last name ended with "hl" he was always coming into the bank and telling her new surnames of celebrities and well-known people that he had discovered whose name also ended in "hl." You see, my Dad's interaction with and thoughts of people didn't just begin and end in what they could do for him, but he took a personal interest in them. I guarantee you that not only was he searching for new names he had found to take to this girl, he was also praying for her. That was just his way.
Our next stop was the grocery store where he would secretly pay for people's groceries on a regular basis. (If you aren't familiar with that part of my Dad's history then you'll just have to go back and read my previous post about my piece of his funeral. I explain it there). We went to the manager's desk and spoke with both store managers. We explained that my Dad had passed away and Mom showed them his picture. They recognized him and were so very sad to hear he had died. We told them we wanted to settle up any accounts for groceries that he hadn't yet paid for but he had already taken care of that and there weren't any open accounts. Mom and I picked up and paid for a few items we needed while we were there and as we were walking out the door one of the managers handed us a ham and told us once again how sorry he was for our loss. A ham for condolences. Isn't that kind? His legacy lives on because our friend who played the piano at his funeral donated the check she received to the grocery store to be able to help with someone else's groceries. Dad would have loved that. He had talked about wanting to take some of his white shirts to one of the managers at the store because he had to wear white shirts and looked like he needed some more to wear. Mom and I had them cleaned and then took them back to the store the next week. He was very appreciative.
Our next stop was to Dad's barber. Now, you might think a man's relationship with his barber is no big thing. But to my Dad, his relationship with everyone was a big thing. His barber had already received a call--actually from an old friend of mine who's father also goes to the same barber--but he was still overcome with emotion when we stopped in to see him. There we were in a barber shop, that was desperately in need of a woman's touch, and I'm watching as my Mom comforts Dad's barber as he sheds tears of sorrow. I think they were tears of sorrow, but they could also be tears shed by someone losing a very good customer. My Dad went to get his hair cut every three weeks. I'm just joking about that...but not the part about Dad getting a haircut every three weeks. That part is very true.
All in all, our goodbye tour brought a lot of healing for my Mom and me. It was wonderful to hear the stories about my Dad that we wouldn't have heard otherwise and it was nice to see that my Dad's presence in people's every day lives would be missed. Of course, we miss him because he's part of us but to have others who just knew him as he went about his business of being himself miss him is special indeed.
A parting thought that I might write about more later. This may seem odd to some but I ponder odd things at times. My parents were 32 and 40 years old when I was born. I remember during the years approaching the exact age that my Mom was when I was born I thought about how many years of her life she lived before I was a part of it. As an egocentric child of two parents it's easy to wonder how they ever lived without me, but they lived many years of their lives before I was ever a part of it. I've been thinking about my Dad in that way since I turned 40 years old last July. My Dad lived 40 years, 8 months and 4 days before I became part of who he was. A little while after my Dad passed away I realized that I didn't make it to the age my Dad was when I was born before he was gone from my life. I know that's deep and maybe it's irrelevant to most who would read it. It's just interesting to me as I reflect back on my life to think of how long my Dad lived without me in his life and now how long I will (may) live without him in mine. After all, one of the biggest lessons I've been reminded of through this experience is that none of us is promised tomorrow.
Sorry to end on a deep note. That's all I've got for today. I promise the "funny" will be back in full swing at some point. Right now, it's just an accomplishment to write anything.
Thank you for reading. Love to all.
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