Transistion

I feel that I am in a time of transition- to what I am not sure, but I am moving to a different place in life. I have the sense that time is changing. I am running out of time when I could do some really stupid things and people around me would say, "She's been through so much. No wonder she has...." Instead the response will become, "but she is a mother, pastor, functioning member of society and should know better!" After David died I tried to hold it together and make good choices in life. Most of the time I succeeded. I like living in a pocket of grace. But something within me tells me it is time to move forward.

Perhaps it is because tomorrow I become responsible for my mother for a few months. Right now I am at my sister's home on the east coast. Tomorrow I load my children and my mother and drive back to the mountains of Western NC to her house. We will spend a few days there and then go to my home. While in the mountains I will help her sort through some of her things. We will also go take care of getting headstones for the graves of David and Dad. There will be visits with family- I get to see my grandmother. It will be a busy time. I also hope to see a few friends from high school and college. It is a lot to put into two days.

I have enjoyed my time on the coast with sisters. Two of my sisters live here and the other flew up from Florida. There has been sharing of music and stories. We've made sure that the children have gotten to do some touristy things. They have enjoyed the beach, museums, boats and the aquarium.

The beaches here are wonderful. I do not care for the beaches lined with hotels, wax museums, and amusement park rides. I prefer them with very few people and a few bungalows. I love walking on the beach. I have often thought that if I got started on the Maine coastline I could walk to Florida. I think differently on the beach. My thoughts are bigger. Things seem possible against the waves, sand and salt water. I think that I could become very self centered living here. I usually gravitate toward people, but I can be perfectly content alone on the beach. I could easily become an eccentric woman dressed in gauzy skirts, with several cats, and my unpublished poems and books filling a little bungalow overlooking the ocean. In the mountains or the Midwest I want to be surround by friends and family. I see myself one day writing another chapter to my life with partner. On the beach I could be single forever and write stories with the characters in my head. Each tourist that came to town would become a character in a story I would build around them.

But tomorrow I drive west, away from the ocean. I go back to the role of care taker, but this time a parent rather than a spouse. Another chapter begins.

Lights, Camera, Action!

"Why would you let anyone follow you around with a camera?" That is the question I asked myself as I brushed my teeth and put on moisturizer this morning. I have agreed to let Colleen, a photojournalism student follow me around for a class project. The assignment is to do a photo story on the topic "making a living." She had interviewed me for one of the local papers for a New Year's article, and thought that she could use me for this assignment as well. I agreed for many reasons. Most simple and obvious is that I almost always agree to help students with any school projects. I remember how stressful it was for me to step outside of my school to arrange internships. Also, this is for a class, not television or a magazine publication. I'm not going on display for the whole world to see. Still, I found myself questioning my sanity this morning as I gazed at the red and puffy allergy battered eyes that stared back at me in the mirror. My nose, rubbed raw by tissues, and my chapped lips were not anything I wished to share with even a small group of people.

I am usually comfortable in front of a camera. My father was a photographer, so I learned early to be at ease. He bought an 8 millimeter movie camera when I was about three. My three older siblings were in their teens -old enough to know to feel awkward in front of the camera. Family home movies often have shots of teens with a hand in front of their face, or an expression that clearly begs, "Take that camera off of me!" I was young enough to dance in circles and do any trick I could think of to keep the camera pointing in my direction. As I got older I learned to just ignore the camera for candid shots. For posed shots, I had a well practiced smile that I could turn on quickly.

I think that I want to do this project with Colleen because I believe in the healing power of stories. I think everyone has a story to tell. I tell mine through this blog. A big part of my job is retelling the stories of the Bible to help people apply wisdom and find hope in their lives today. I also work with people to think about their personal story within a theological context. That is to say, "Where do you see God working in your life? What is the life story you are writing? Does your story reflect hope, peace, and joy? How is your personal story interwoven with creation and the rest of humanity?"

I tell the stories of many people. I tell stories of people who do amazing work in difficult places. I tell stories of people in despair who find hope. I tell stories of ordinary daily life being touched by the Holy. Telling the stories of others is a difficult job. When I tell my own story I try to be kind to those around me whose stories have intertwined with mine. It is one thing to tell something negative about yourself, but entirely different if you tell that same story about someone else.

My favorite time to share the life stories of others is at funeral services. It is a time to celebrate an entire life- not just the last few years of a person. I love sitting with a family, asking a few questions and then listen to the stories pour from them. It is usually a time of laughter mixed with tears. It is a step toward healing.

So here I am on the other side. I am letting someone look in on my life and tell what they see. I need to be on the other side from time to time. It serves as a reminder that it takes vulnerability and trust to let someone else tell your story. It is a dance of balances. We become comfortable in our roles and forget what it is like to be on the other side. Those who give need to know what it is like to receive, in order to be more graceful in their giving. Those who receive need to know the sacrifices and the joys of giving.

I believe that by allowing someone else to tell part of my story that I will become a better storyteller. Colleen will see things in my life differently than I do and I will learn new things about myself. Being alive involves growth. This project is set up so that the student will learn and grow in their field. I suspect that I will get a good education from this project as well.

Single Mom

I have written several times about the difficulties of being a single parent. I have heard many theories about children growing up in single parent home and few of them are positive. I know many adults, who have come out of single parent home, who are emotionally stable, have a strong moral code, and contribute quite well to society. I also know many adults who have come from two parent homes that are paying (or should be paying) a lot of money to work through the damage that came from growing up in a two parent family where one or both of those adults were unable to parent well. In a perfect world children have two parents that are physically and emotionally healthy adults. This world is not perfect. Alex's father and I separated when he was three. I married David the week before Alex turned six. Now I find myself once again parenting on my own.

When I was alone with Alex I bristled at every "single parent home" critique that I heard. I was in seminary at the time. It was a school in the process of change from a focus on superior education to a focus on "conservative family values." It went from being listed as one of the top five schools for seminary education (probably by Money Magazine- they do a lot of those lists) to a place that receives more notoriety for statements their president makes than their education. It was in the process of transforming from a place where women and men received the same education to a place where women were encouraged to only take classes that were appropriate for their gender. Liberal theology, women in inappropriate roles/careers, and single parent families were sending the world to hell in a hand basket. Since I was single by a divorce that I chose and not single by death or abandonment meant that I, with child in arms, had carelessly ran straight into the flames. There was much conversation about children needing to be raised by two parents of differing genders. When I would point out that not ever single parent chose to be single- there were those who were widowed, abandoned, and those who decided to give birth rather than seeking abortion (another popular downfall of society at that time) the recommendation was that they find a husband quickly. It was wrongly assumed that single parents were women.

It wasn't just at school that I heard criticisms of the single parent family. Through the media I learned that our children were more likely to become pregnant teenagers, do drugs, drop out of school, and pick their noses in public. Single parent families were blamed for overloading the welfare system. It was a time of election and the Christian right, which I found to be neither Christian nor right, was on the attack of the horrible crime that I was participating in by raising my son alone.

I work hard to make sure that my children do not suffer the consequences of living with one parent. I keep their father around through stories and photographs. I remind them of his morals and values. I have a wonderful support group of people willing to help. I make sure that there are strong male and female role models in the lives of my children. I recognize that it isn't the same as have a father at home, but I do my best to keep my kids from falling through the cracks. I try to give them everything they would have in a two parent home, thus I suspect that sometimes single parents suffer the consequences of parenting alone more than their children.
There are some positive things that I find about children from single homes. I recognize that these are generalizations. These are characteristics that can be found in children from two parent homes. Not all single parented children have all of these characteristics. Yet, if you are a single parent reading this, then hopefully it can give balance to all the negative criticism you hear. After all, our choices are to get busy and find someone else to parent beside us or make the best of the situation that we are in at this time.

• Children raised in a single parent home often have to participate more in housekeeping. They learn how to do laundry, clean toilets, cook, shop, and mow the yard. My kids love to clean toilets. They have learned that if one cleans toilets while the other washes dishes or folds laundry the toilet cleaner finishes faster- which is well worth the yuck factor of toilet scrubbing. Thus, they are able to care for themselves when they leave home.

• They learn how to entertain themselves. If my kids tell me that they are bored, I simply say, "Gee, I'm sorry. Do you want me to find you something to do?" They rarely tell me they are bored. They do not look to me to keep them entertained and happy. They do look to me for love and they get lots of that!
  

• They cannot divide and conquer. My kids cannot play me against myself. Instead, they learn to negotiate one to one. Sometimes I encourage this and sometimes I let them know that something is nonnegotiable.
  

• They learn independence. My children see through me that they can do what needs to be done. There is great value in the example of interaction in a healthy marriage. There is also great value in seeing someone overcome obstacles alone.
  

• They learn the basics of survival in our society. My kids no longer have the option of staying at home with Daddy when I get the oil changed, pump gas, go to the bank, or shop. Since they are with me I talk to them about what I am doing. It helps them feel involved, which puts a stop to whining, and they learn about car maintenance, financial planning, keeping accounts, and shopping for value. It is easier to do these things without them, but when they are at school I am at work, so they go with me.
• They learn time management. I can't do everything that two people do. I might tell them, "We need to do these five things, but there is probably only time for two or three. Which do you think are the most important things to do?"

Of course everything above can also be done in a two parent home. I am not trying to make an argument that single parent homes are better. For years in my perfect dream world I was a stay at home mom with six kids and a husband that was happy in his career. I am arguing that living in a single parent home is not the worst thing that can happen to a child. So if you are reading this as a single parent trying to do what is best for your children take heart. Change what you can, ignore what you cannot change, and celebrate what does work well in your family. If you are not a single parent, then be aware of the criticisms that are often made and defend your friends and see what you can do to help.

Seeking Balance and Health

I've been sick for about a week. Nothing major, just a bad cold, or perhaps even flu since I have body aches and fever. It doesn't really matter, because treatment is pretty much the same; rest and plenty of fluids. It is hard for me to take any sickness I have seriously after living with someone with cancer for five years. It feels wimpy to give in and go to bed. So I usually keep going. It isn't that I am that stubborn or stoic. I also know that when I stop, life doesn't and that when I return I will have more to do. If I don't do the laundry then one of the kids will be out of sock or jeans. If I don't sweep the floors dog fur takes over. Whatever I skip has to be added to the already full schedule in the future. Every appointment I cancel at work will have to be rescheduled. Then there are the things I am stubborn about. I would have to be at death's door to miss a wedding, funeral, or even skip a sermon that I had prepared. Luckily I usually have sermons near ready about ten days before I preach them. They are never completely finished until they have been preached. Then there is the reality that I happen to like life and prefer living it outside of my bed.

Tonight I missed work. I didn't work all day today. I met a friend for breakfast this morning after dropping Sophia off at school. I soon realized that I was going to crash. I canceled all appointments and went home and went to bed. I didn't set an alarm because I thought I would only sleep an hour or so. I woke up at three- which is the time I am supposed to be at Judson's school. When we went to get Sophia one of the parents volunteered to take the kids home with them and then to church. I went home and went back to bed.

This is one of those times when being a single parent stinks. Last night the kids kept looking at me with the same concern the used to have when David was sick. I kept reassuring them that I was fine and would be back to normal in a few days. It made me wonder what I would do if I were ever seriously sick. I know I have many friends that would step in and help. Still, it is a disturbing thought. Exercising and eating well is so much more than trying to look good. When David was diagnosed I felt an overwhelming responsibility to be as healthy as I could possibly be so that my children would have at least one healthy parent.

There are other times I hate being a single parent. It is challenging when the kids have to be at two different places at the same time. Luckily they have the same piano instructor and are now in the same orchestra. It is hard when one of them seems to need some extra attention. I don't like having to work evenings because there is the challenge of finding a sitter or taking them with me. It is good that in my line of work it is often expected that I bring my children to work! I have an out of town meeting this weekend. Alex will come and stay with the kids. It is only two hours away, but it is the first one I've gone to since David's death. Eventually I will have to figure out how to do conferences that are out of state and involve several days.

In about two weeks my mother will be coming to stay with us for a few months. That will bring some help and some challenges. She needs some help with day to day care. However, I will have another adult in the house. With time I will learn better ways to balance it all.

My Sporty Self

Last night Judson and I watched college basketball last night. That is something different for us. When we moved to Columbia we went to basketball, football, and volleyball games. My local favorite is still the Providence Bowl, where the two local high schools play each other in football. David and I wanted to be sure our kids at least knew how to follow a game. We both came from families that didn't really follow sports and had some awkward experiences in our geeky histories.

When I was in first grade one of my classmates, Vickie had brought a ball, a large glove, and a big stick to the playground. She taught me that the big stick was called a bat. You held the bat, someone threw the ball at you and you hit the ball with the bat! I thought she was a genius for coming up with that game! I went home and excitedly told my older brother who laughed at me because I had never heard of baseball.

I learned to follow basketball and football during my short time as a cheerleader. When I wasn't a cheerleader and went to the games I learned that kissing behind the bleachers was a lot more fun than watching other people play a game. I suspect that I would still find that true, although at my age I don't have to hide behind the bleachers.

In college I took raquetball and weightlifting classes. I became less awkward and had learned to stay on the bleachers instead of behind them. I enjoyed live games, but never got into watching sports on television except during March Madness. I lived in NC my first 29 years, so eventually I was going to learn college basketball by simply being around people in March.

So it is no surprise that as cancer complicated our lives one of the many things we gave up without much thought was following sports of any kind. My kids have not expressed any interest in traditional sports. Alex and Judson took fencing lessons, but that isn't the same. Like David, Alex picked up his knowledge of sports via marching band.

All the above led me to turning on college basketball last night and doing my best to explain seeds, pods, statistics etc. to Judson. He did take interest especially in Marshall University where David went to school and The University of Louisville. Judson lived the first nine months of his life in Louisville and feels a stronger connection there than Indiana where he lived until he was five. I am trying to influence him to be a Carolina fan first, but I know he will make up his own mind.

The Wedding Ring is Off

First, my apologies for not keeping up with the blog. I am okay, just very busy. The day to day routine has not been too interesting. I get up, take care of kids, do some laundry, start supper (thawing or crock pot), go to work. I pick up the kids from school and get home after piano, orchestra or whatever activities are scheduled that day. We have supper, then often go to the church for a meeting. One day is much like another. However, I recently took my wedding ring off and thought it was blog worthy.

I had not been able to remove my wedding ring since gaining weight during David's illness. I had hoped that in the winter my fingers would be slimmer- they they are. I can't wear most of the rings I wore in the fall because they are too loose. Yet my wedding band remained tight on my hand. Last week I was lifting weights at the gym and noticed the callouses result from gripping weights. I realized that my hands are probably at their smallest. Soon it will be warm and more callouses will develop from gardening. Plus, my fingers are always a little larger when the weather is hot. Above and below my wedding ring the skin had become very thick and hard. I commented to my workout partner that it was time to have the ring cut off. She recommended a jeweler and volunteered to go with me when I felt ready.

Thursday morning I spoke to a group of older men ( they told me you had to be 80 or older to join the group) about the history of Bethel Church and my life story. They were so kind, positive, and complimentary. I left feeling wonderful. It seemed like a good time to do something difficult, but necessary. The jeweler sawed through the band on my left hand, while my friend, Mary held my right hand. It took longer than we expected and I shed a few tears, but I felt very strongly like it was the right thing to do. Once I saw my finger after the ring was off I knew I had made the right decision. The skin where the ring had been was white and wrinkled- as though a band aid had been on too tight. The jeweler said it might take up to a month for my finger to heal completely. He is going to repair the ring and size it to fit my right hand. It is a lovely piece of jewelry- yellow, white, and rose gold woven together.

David and I only exchanged wedding bands. There was no engagement ring. In a marriage of equal partnership it seemed wrong that one of us would get a nice piece of jewelry and the other wouldn't. We were also aware that diamonds were often obtained in unethical ways from African mines. Oh, and of course we were full time students who had put houses on the market to pay for tuition. It is easy to live out your philosophical and ethical ideas when you don't have the money to do otherwise! Our rings represented the commitment we had made to each other that was to last until one of us died. I was faithful and true to our marital vows loving in sickness and health, for better and worse, but those promises have been completed.

I was afraid that removing the ring would be emotionally difficult, yet it wasn't. My hand felt a little strange- not in the sense that something was missing or ghost sensations from where the ring had been for so long. It was more a feeling of the returning of full circulation !

I think if I had the ring removed earlier it would not have been right for me. This is especially true since it had to be cut off. When you slide a ring on and off each day you can decide not to wear it one day and put it on again the next. I will have to wait for repairs to be completed, but I am comfortable with the wait at this point in my life. I am glad I waited until it felt right.