Merri Maywether's Blog, page 4
June 18, 2021
Father-Son Scene From Home For Good
In recognition of Father’s Day, I’m sharing a scene with one of the devoted fathers in the Three Creeks Series.
Get your Copy of Home For GoodHe’s the hometown hero. She’s the small-town sweetheart he left behind.
It broke Katie’s heart when Brock severed ties with her. She believed they were going to get married and live happily ever after. With some help from her friends and family, she healed, grew up, and moved on. There were some bumps along the way, but Katie was at ...
Sibling Rivalry
There they stood in the slightly awkward situation.
Thanks to her sister Layla, Charlotte was standing in front of the dreamiest man she had set eyes on. This man was coated in flour.
Tegan looked familiar, but Charlotte couldn’t determine where she had seen him before.
A slightly younger, thinner version of Tegan brandished a hand broom. “We’ll have this cleaned in no time.”
He dressed more casually in jeans and a gray and red raglan shirt. The similarities in noses and square ...
November 22, 2020
The Things We'll Tell Our Kids
When I talked with my kids about life in the 80s, I’d share that I wore jellies, jams, and Swatch watches. My children would blink like I spoke another language. Their mother who wears the same six colors (blue, pink, grey, brown, black, and red); the same mother who has purchased three of the same sweater because she loved it so much; wore plastic shoes, oversized multicolored shorts, and accessories that didn’t match. To prove that I was a different person, I sing the "Apple Bottom Jeans" song and swing my arms in prep to do the Cabbage Patch Dance.
They cringe and plead, “Mom! Stop.”
The person I describe is beyond my children's realm of understanding. They only know the person who helped them study for history tests and took them on road trips to learn geography. She is sensible, responsible, and cautious.
This week the differences between the present and past versions of myself helped with processing the upcoming week. I have never celebrated Thanksgiving sans my family. But in good conscience, I couldn’t risk maintaining the tradition. COVID-19 has hit our town. Every day, I hear stories of new cases. People pass along prayer requests for community members. We make soup and leave care packages of cookies on door steps. The kids are getting edgy because they are hearing stories about other schools going virtual. So, my husband and I decided to stay home.
Then came the angst. I have always spent Thanksgiving with my family.
If there is one thing I’ve learned about life, it is this. If you give love a chance, it will shine. It turns out several of my friends will be alone this Thanksgiving. So, I asked them for a Zoomsgiving. Can we meet for an hour or two, eat some turkey or pie, and recognize what we do have to be thankful for? Much to my delight, they agreed.
And this is where I’ll circle back to the beginning of this note. Thirty years from now, I’ll tell my grandchildren 2020 stories. They’ll be stories of wearing masks that match my outfits, having celebrations via videoconferences, and how I formed life-changing friendships in a time when it wasn’t safe to go out.
I cannot wait to see their reactions.
I’ll close this note wishing you a Happy Thanksgiving. May your week bring you love, warmth, and support that you'll be able to share in the years to come.
💖 Merri
They cringe and plead, “Mom! Stop.”
The person I describe is beyond my children's realm of understanding. They only know the person who helped them study for history tests and took them on road trips to learn geography. She is sensible, responsible, and cautious.
This week the differences between the present and past versions of myself helped with processing the upcoming week. I have never celebrated Thanksgiving sans my family. But in good conscience, I couldn’t risk maintaining the tradition. COVID-19 has hit our town. Every day, I hear stories of new cases. People pass along prayer requests for community members. We make soup and leave care packages of cookies on door steps. The kids are getting edgy because they are hearing stories about other schools going virtual. So, my husband and I decided to stay home.
Then came the angst. I have always spent Thanksgiving with my family.
If there is one thing I’ve learned about life, it is this. If you give love a chance, it will shine. It turns out several of my friends will be alone this Thanksgiving. So, I asked them for a Zoomsgiving. Can we meet for an hour or two, eat some turkey or pie, and recognize what we do have to be thankful for? Much to my delight, they agreed.
And this is where I’ll circle back to the beginning of this note. Thirty years from now, I’ll tell my grandchildren 2020 stories. They’ll be stories of wearing masks that match my outfits, having celebrations via videoconferences, and how I formed life-changing friendships in a time when it wasn’t safe to go out.
I cannot wait to see their reactions.
I’ll close this note wishing you a Happy Thanksgiving. May your week bring you love, warmth, and support that you'll be able to share in the years to come.
💖 Merri
November 10, 2020
A Veteran's Day Back Story
A little more than a week ago, my son came home from his second deployment. He’s been posting quick videos about his acclimation to life in the states. They’re cute. The first one he started his car that had been parked for months. Pictures of meals he cooked followed. Then came the pictures of him messing up his house with his gear and assurances to have it cleaned in a couple of days.
This deployment and return to life in the states were far different than his first.
On his first deployment, I wasn’t allowed to know where he was stationed. Communication was sparse during and after the deployment. Every once in a while, I’d receive a cryptic message. “You’re going to read about something in the news. Just know I’m okay.”
Like that would make a mother feel good. I’d pore over the news. There would be an article here or there, but nothing pointed to my son thinking he needed to send the message.
Then he came home.
Moms, you know that feeling that hits in the back corner of your heart when your child is trying to hide something from you. The one that tells you to let time pass because the secret will rise to the surface. I had that feeling.
One day, while he was on a visit to the farm, I asked for help washing the dishes. Holy mother of all that is good, I was in for a surprise. Long story short, my son had a retinue of tests to determine whether or not he could trust me. The funny thing is he had no idea he was doing it.
There were little quizzes along the way. Each time, I kept my cool and rose to the challenge. But with every affirmation of his value, he increased the stakes until… he outright challenged my mama love when I asked for help washing the dishes. I cannot recall the exact words. The angry tone challenging me to hate him temporarily threw me for a loop. Did he think I’d fail that one?
My son was in for a greater surprise.
I didn’t hate him. The request for help was a means of asking for his companionship. He was about to learn that my values stemmed deeper and would therefore uproot his lie he told himself. Being in the same room doing something together was all that mattered to me. He gave me the side-eye and joined me in the kitchen.
I passed the test.
Within minutes, another attempt at an argument ensued. This, in itself, was a test. I don’t argue. The only option my son had was to share his truth. The laughter was gone from his eyes, and the expectation of judgment pierced my heart. He told me what had happened on his deployment. I had seen the events in the news. Because of my ignorance of his whereabouts, I hadn’t equated him with the outcome.
I will tell you this. My heart ached. There was no way I could have shielded him. However, my response could salve his wounds.
I apologized. For what he had seen, all that had gone against his expectations, and for how it all made him feel. Then I told him that despite all that he shared, I still loved and respected him.
Respect was the key to his healing. Our children want, need, and cherish our love. Love is the foundation. The addition of respect validated the sincerity of my love.
Readers, we passed the tests. We couldn’t erase the past. That was naive and would have invalidated his intent and his service for our country. His experiences will be with him for the rest of his life. What we could do was take life one day at a time, and we have. And, when he least expects it, I send him notes reminding him how proud I am of the person he has become.
The takeaways from this vague story: It is easy to love someone when things are going well. Showing love when someone expects anything but is when it really shines.
We all have had this test at one point in time or another. The person thought we would walk away, and we stuck around.
After that pivotal discussion with my son, my approach to Veteran’s Day or Armistice Day deepened. Yes, I thank veterans for their service. My true hope…I hope they can see in my smile or my tone of voice that despite the outcome of their personal story, they are very much respected.
And so I close this message with a request. Our world is limping along. Everybody is struggling. Prepare for the tests. People need to hear more about love.
In that vein, I close this note reminding you, dear friend, that I am so glad for the chance to be a part of your world. Have a great week.
Merri
This deployment and return to life in the states were far different than his first.
On his first deployment, I wasn’t allowed to know where he was stationed. Communication was sparse during and after the deployment. Every once in a while, I’d receive a cryptic message. “You’re going to read about something in the news. Just know I’m okay.”
Like that would make a mother feel good. I’d pore over the news. There would be an article here or there, but nothing pointed to my son thinking he needed to send the message.
Then he came home.
Moms, you know that feeling that hits in the back corner of your heart when your child is trying to hide something from you. The one that tells you to let time pass because the secret will rise to the surface. I had that feeling.
One day, while he was on a visit to the farm, I asked for help washing the dishes. Holy mother of all that is good, I was in for a surprise. Long story short, my son had a retinue of tests to determine whether or not he could trust me. The funny thing is he had no idea he was doing it.
There were little quizzes along the way. Each time, I kept my cool and rose to the challenge. But with every affirmation of his value, he increased the stakes until… he outright challenged my mama love when I asked for help washing the dishes. I cannot recall the exact words. The angry tone challenging me to hate him temporarily threw me for a loop. Did he think I’d fail that one?
My son was in for a greater surprise.
I didn’t hate him. The request for help was a means of asking for his companionship. He was about to learn that my values stemmed deeper and would therefore uproot his lie he told himself. Being in the same room doing something together was all that mattered to me. He gave me the side-eye and joined me in the kitchen.
I passed the test.
Within minutes, another attempt at an argument ensued. This, in itself, was a test. I don’t argue. The only option my son had was to share his truth. The laughter was gone from his eyes, and the expectation of judgment pierced my heart. He told me what had happened on his deployment. I had seen the events in the news. Because of my ignorance of his whereabouts, I hadn’t equated him with the outcome.
I will tell you this. My heart ached. There was no way I could have shielded him. However, my response could salve his wounds.
I apologized. For what he had seen, all that had gone against his expectations, and for how it all made him feel. Then I told him that despite all that he shared, I still loved and respected him.
Respect was the key to his healing. Our children want, need, and cherish our love. Love is the foundation. The addition of respect validated the sincerity of my love.
Readers, we passed the tests. We couldn’t erase the past. That was naive and would have invalidated his intent and his service for our country. His experiences will be with him for the rest of his life. What we could do was take life one day at a time, and we have. And, when he least expects it, I send him notes reminding him how proud I am of the person he has become.
The takeaways from this vague story: It is easy to love someone when things are going well. Showing love when someone expects anything but is when it really shines.
We all have had this test at one point in time or another. The person thought we would walk away, and we stuck around.
After that pivotal discussion with my son, my approach to Veteran’s Day or Armistice Day deepened. Yes, I thank veterans for their service. My true hope…I hope they can see in my smile or my tone of voice that despite the outcome of their personal story, they are very much respected.
And so I close this message with a request. Our world is limping along. Everybody is struggling. Prepare for the tests. People need to hear more about love.
In that vein, I close this note reminding you, dear friend, that I am so glad for the chance to be a part of your world. Have a great week.
Merri
October 23, 2020
We Make Plans And Life Laughs
I love Kane Brown’s “What if?” for a variety of reasons. There’s the obvious. It’s romantic.
Then the optimistic tone. The song presents the possibilities of the moment. What if this is the moment that defines our forever?
I love defining moments.
I especially love the song, because looking back, I should have known my first date with my husband was my last. But I didn’t figure it out until we were married for twenty-three years…as in the defining moment was there in front of us and neither of us recognized it.
But obviously we did, otherwise I wouldn’t be in the living room typing this blog while he slumbers away peacefully.
Let me tell you the story.
On our first date, Big R and I took our four kids, from previous marriages, and our pastor’s four kids to see “One Hundred and One Dalmations.”
You’re probably thinking, I can see why you wouldn’t know that as a “wow” date.
It gets better.
After the movie, we went to the Coffee Plantation at Mill Avenue. It is an open-air coffee house in Arizona. The kids had cocoa. My future husband and I had coffee. Ripkin performed live for all of us warm beverage drinkers.
He held my hand.
But that wasn’t the moment.
The defining moment came when we got home. It was late. All of us buzzed with the happiness that comes after enjoying a fun-filled evening.
Then my beloved, the man who would be my husband, closed the car door on my hand. As in my palm was on one side, and four of my fingers were latched between the door and the siding.
I’ll interrupt here to add some details that make the story even more intense. I never lock car doors. Big R would lock the refrigerator door if it had a key.
I have a lively personality. He is the quiet one.
When my melodramatic mind processed that my hand was pinched by a locked car door, I should have screamed, cried out in pain, started blubbering.
What I did astounded me then. It should have been the sign. It was the sign.
As clear as the sun on a Montana summer day, my mind said, “If you get upset it will frazzle Randy. Keep Calm.”
And that is what I did. As Randy showed all the signs of a mind exclaiming OMG WHAT HAVE I DONE, I remained calm.
I said things along the line of, “It’ll be okay,” when my head was screaming in pain.
Of course he had a key chain with one hundred million keys. See melodramatic, but there were a lot of key.
While he fumbled, my voice said, “I’ll be fine.” I wanted to cry.
When he opened the door, my hand immediately throbbed in pain. I smiled and said “See no harm, no foul.”
I kept my cool, took the boys home, and tucked them in bed.
The entire last ten minutes of the night was our sign. The man who is now my husband had the power to bring the best version of who I was to a situation.
It was the moment where the line between reality and romantic converged, merged, and changed the trajectory of our future.
When I hear “What If” play on the radio, I smile. There were stars and smiles on our first date. However, it did not end with that memorable first kiss. Instead, our last first date ended with something better. It ended with what one of my wiser characters calls glue. It proved my future husband and I worked well together when confronted by problems.
I won’t close this post wishing you problems, because we have plenty of those this year. Instead, I’ll hope you find moments of cohesion. That you find the people that pull out the better version of you—the version that makes you say, “Wow, I didn’t know I could do that.”
Until the next note
xoxoxo
Merri
Then the optimistic tone. The song presents the possibilities of the moment. What if this is the moment that defines our forever?
I love defining moments.
I especially love the song, because looking back, I should have known my first date with my husband was my last. But I didn’t figure it out until we were married for twenty-three years…as in the defining moment was there in front of us and neither of us recognized it.
But obviously we did, otherwise I wouldn’t be in the living room typing this blog while he slumbers away peacefully.
Let me tell you the story.
On our first date, Big R and I took our four kids, from previous marriages, and our pastor’s four kids to see “One Hundred and One Dalmations.”
You’re probably thinking, I can see why you wouldn’t know that as a “wow” date.
It gets better.
After the movie, we went to the Coffee Plantation at Mill Avenue. It is an open-air coffee house in Arizona. The kids had cocoa. My future husband and I had coffee. Ripkin performed live for all of us warm beverage drinkers.
He held my hand.
But that wasn’t the moment.
The defining moment came when we got home. It was late. All of us buzzed with the happiness that comes after enjoying a fun-filled evening.
Then my beloved, the man who would be my husband, closed the car door on my hand. As in my palm was on one side, and four of my fingers were latched between the door and the siding.
I’ll interrupt here to add some details that make the story even more intense. I never lock car doors. Big R would lock the refrigerator door if it had a key.
I have a lively personality. He is the quiet one.
When my melodramatic mind processed that my hand was pinched by a locked car door, I should have screamed, cried out in pain, started blubbering.
What I did astounded me then. It should have been the sign. It was the sign.
As clear as the sun on a Montana summer day, my mind said, “If you get upset it will frazzle Randy. Keep Calm.”
And that is what I did. As Randy showed all the signs of a mind exclaiming OMG WHAT HAVE I DONE, I remained calm.
I said things along the line of, “It’ll be okay,” when my head was screaming in pain.
Of course he had a key chain with one hundred million keys. See melodramatic, but there were a lot of key.
While he fumbled, my voice said, “I’ll be fine.” I wanted to cry.
When he opened the door, my hand immediately throbbed in pain. I smiled and said “See no harm, no foul.”
I kept my cool, took the boys home, and tucked them in bed.
The entire last ten minutes of the night was our sign. The man who is now my husband had the power to bring the best version of who I was to a situation.
It was the moment where the line between reality and romantic converged, merged, and changed the trajectory of our future.
When I hear “What If” play on the radio, I smile. There were stars and smiles on our first date. However, it did not end with that memorable first kiss. Instead, our last first date ended with something better. It ended with what one of my wiser characters calls glue. It proved my future husband and I worked well together when confronted by problems.
I won’t close this post wishing you problems, because we have plenty of those this year. Instead, I’ll hope you find moments of cohesion. That you find the people that pull out the better version of you—the version that makes you say, “Wow, I didn’t know I could do that.”
Until the next note
xoxoxo
Merri
August 21, 2020
Slow Brew Friendship
Last week I promised a story behind the story for “Smiles, Sunshine, and Bears.” Here we go.
Earlier this summer, I talked with someone about my friendships. Because of a promise I made to myself, my personality leans towards developing slow brew friendships. They take a long time to reach peak flavor, but once they do, they are enduring.
This person, who is one of those slow brew friends, replied. “For the longest time, I thought you were weird because you smile so much.”
I silently accepted what she said, thinking I thought smiling meant you like a person. From that point forward, I committed to listening with a more somber expression. Spoiler: I failed.
A couple of weeks later, I was in a zoom writing session when one of my friends mentioned she was on the other side of a struggle. To the other women, she said, “I don’t expect Merri to understand. She’s always happy.”
Again, I was taken aback. So over dinner, I mentioned it to my husband. I said something to the effect of feeling misunderstood for expressing things positively.
He replied, “Yeah, it can be a bit much.”
Three times. Three times, people expressed unease with my cheerful disposition. I took it as a sign. Perhaps my interpretation of cheerful translated to annoying in others.
So, I did what any normal, who wants to get along with other people, person would do. I tried to hide my smile. In the social distancing, don’t cover your face, time we are living in, I had a dilemma. Place my hand in front of my face to hide the being in your presence makes me happy smile or annoy the person who has brought me happiness. While other people were claiming masks were the bane of their existence, I thought I could smile and not be perceived as weird.
But my heart said something was wrong. Back before I became a recluse people sought me out when they were having a bad day. My superpower is helping them see we are bigger than our problems.
So I decided to write a story where a character’s feelings were hurt because she was too nice.
What happens next is not funny, but it is. I read the first part of the story, where Jimmy complained about Alana. I kid you not. With the indignity of a friend who would go out at two in the morning for a tub of ice cream, he asked, “Who said that about you?”
I demurely replied, “You.”
At first, he denied it. When I went into the woman’s explanation; The one where we describe in detail what the person was eating and how much coffee was in their cup when they said it, he believed the discussion took place. Then he said, “I mustn’t have been paying attention.” Since then, he’s been bringing home gifts of chocolate.
For the sake of time, let’s say this conversation repeated in a variety of ways, with the same ending as the story of Jimmy and Alana. Friendships were strengthened, and appreciation for unique personality traits was affirmed.
A key point, from both sides, was lost in the translation. What they meant to say was positivity can be just as overwhelming as a cranky toddler. For some strange reason, people thought I expected them to be more like me. Again my feelings were a little dented because I love people for who they are–not what they think they should be. I love people with salty personalities. I wish I could be that quick with the comebacks, to the person who is occasionally grumpy. I can take that sour mood and make them laugh about it. I also have enough love to sit quietly with the depressed person or give them space and greet them with open arms when they’re ready to interact.
What we all learned through this was friendships, like seasonings, are best when the strengths vary. We get this with food. Seriously, add a little sugar to some flour, with some baking soda and a whole mess of other stuff, and you have cookies or muffins or biscuits (now I’m hungry) The different ratios determine the flavor.
I’ll close here with the encouragement that wherever you are in the mood scale, you are appreciated. People may not say it in a way you need to hear, but you are. Your unique representation of your relationship with the world is what makes you special. For that, I thank you.
Until the next note,
Merri
Earlier this summer, I talked with someone about my friendships. Because of a promise I made to myself, my personality leans towards developing slow brew friendships. They take a long time to reach peak flavor, but once they do, they are enduring.
This person, who is one of those slow brew friends, replied. “For the longest time, I thought you were weird because you smile so much.”
I silently accepted what she said, thinking I thought smiling meant you like a person. From that point forward, I committed to listening with a more somber expression. Spoiler: I failed.
A couple of weeks later, I was in a zoom writing session when one of my friends mentioned she was on the other side of a struggle. To the other women, she said, “I don’t expect Merri to understand. She’s always happy.”
Again, I was taken aback. So over dinner, I mentioned it to my husband. I said something to the effect of feeling misunderstood for expressing things positively.
He replied, “Yeah, it can be a bit much.”
Three times. Three times, people expressed unease with my cheerful disposition. I took it as a sign. Perhaps my interpretation of cheerful translated to annoying in others.
So, I did what any normal, who wants to get along with other people, person would do. I tried to hide my smile. In the social distancing, don’t cover your face, time we are living in, I had a dilemma. Place my hand in front of my face to hide the being in your presence makes me happy smile or annoy the person who has brought me happiness. While other people were claiming masks were the bane of their existence, I thought I could smile and not be perceived as weird.
But my heart said something was wrong. Back before I became a recluse people sought me out when they were having a bad day. My superpower is helping them see we are bigger than our problems.
So I decided to write a story where a character’s feelings were hurt because she was too nice.
What happens next is not funny, but it is. I read the first part of the story, where Jimmy complained about Alana. I kid you not. With the indignity of a friend who would go out at two in the morning for a tub of ice cream, he asked, “Who said that about you?”
I demurely replied, “You.”
At first, he denied it. When I went into the woman’s explanation; The one where we describe in detail what the person was eating and how much coffee was in their cup when they said it, he believed the discussion took place. Then he said, “I mustn’t have been paying attention.” Since then, he’s been bringing home gifts of chocolate.
For the sake of time, let’s say this conversation repeated in a variety of ways, with the same ending as the story of Jimmy and Alana. Friendships were strengthened, and appreciation for unique personality traits was affirmed.
A key point, from both sides, was lost in the translation. What they meant to say was positivity can be just as overwhelming as a cranky toddler. For some strange reason, people thought I expected them to be more like me. Again my feelings were a little dented because I love people for who they are–not what they think they should be. I love people with salty personalities. I wish I could be that quick with the comebacks, to the person who is occasionally grumpy. I can take that sour mood and make them laugh about it. I also have enough love to sit quietly with the depressed person or give them space and greet them with open arms when they’re ready to interact.
What we all learned through this was friendships, like seasonings, are best when the strengths vary. We get this with food. Seriously, add a little sugar to some flour, with some baking soda and a whole mess of other stuff, and you have cookies or muffins or biscuits (now I’m hungry) The different ratios determine the flavor.
I’ll close here with the encouragement that wherever you are in the mood scale, you are appreciated. People may not say it in a way you need to hear, but you are. Your unique representation of your relationship with the world is what makes you special. For that, I thank you.
Until the next note,
Merri
