BethAnn Buehler's Blog, page 4

Hard Things...

Vanderbilt Mansion, March 2020It's getting hard around here. That gut wrenching, life has to move forward, he's got to go back to Indiana hard. For almost two months, time has felt limitless and I've stumbled around not knowing or caring too much about what day it was. Now there's a date on the calendar and I am hyper aware of every minute that's passing. Having our kiddo home for this quarantine has been such a blessing, a shiny silver lining in the middle of the mayhem. I was dreading missing summer with him but I know I've been given something far greater than a period of time between two calendar dates because this time has been different. We've had concentrated time as a family that we wouldn't have had with everyone running the 100 different ways our old lives demanded. This time has been good morning hugs, hot chocolate late nights, serious dinner conversations, ice cream runs, and sunny drives to nowhere. It’s been new music, old favorites, after dinner concerts, and dancing in the kitchen. It’s been game night with us losing to our ruthless teenager time and time again until we finally broke out Wii bowling. We’ve endured fraternity initiation week here, celebrated a birthday here, hidden Easter eggs here, taken college finals here, and nursed the broken heart that comes with saying goodbye to a high school sweetheart all right here.I’m going to miss this kid something fierce when he leaves in thirteen days and I won’t sugar coat the fact that it might very well be worse than when he left for college. We moved from his childhood home the day after we dropped him off last fall and we started over here without memories of our family in this house. We’ve had a clean slate to create something new and quarantine has allowed us to do so in grand fashion without worrying about watching the clock the way we’ve had to with holiday breaks and a weekend visit. I have a ton of amazing memories now, all of them made right here so it should come as no surprise that my selfish heart already wants more. I know I’ll be counting the days until his next visit home.  #BuehlerLife

I'm Doing Just Sew...

We are well here in Buehlerland.  Staying busy.  Doing college online (the kiddo), going to work (the hubster).  Sewing (me). In fact, making masks has become my new mission in life.  When I first saw the news and heard there wasn't enough PPE for healthcare workers, I'm going to admit it passed over me.  When I saw it a second time, it caught my attention and I started having in depth conversations with people about 'just enough' purchasing and year end cost savings and risk assessment for various types of equipment.  They were clinical discussions and while I walked away understanding how there could be shortages, it was still removed from me.  Happening over there.  Not here.  And then the calls started coming in for handmade, homesewn facemasks.  Nurses, firemen, police, nursing home aides, vet techs, police, military, clerks at the gas station...  The calls came in from everywhere and it was right here.  HERE.  And it was real.  So I started sewing.  And before and ran out of supplies I determined NOT to run out so I waited an hour to get in the local fabric shop. An hour at the cutting table, and 30 minutes in line at the register but I was able to buy 62 yards of fabric and enough thread (I hope!) to sew 20 masks a day for the forseeable future because "20 a day keeps the virus away." 

The need is overwhelming and in addition to taking care of the healthcare workers we've committed to supporting, members of my sewing circle are now getting requests from all sides; parents, friends, extended family, neighbors, various essential workers not in the healthcare industry... we’ve gone from sewing for nurses to sewing for the world and that’s just fine. We're determined to sew for everyone!

Reach Out!

I'm hearing about how hard this is from a lot of folks. How fear and uncertainty and boredom, not from a lack of things to do but from a lack of knowing where to start, is creeping in and sometimes taking over. Whatever you're feeling, you ARE NOT alone. You may be sitting there looking at a screen by yourself, but YOU ARE NOT ALONE. Social distancing does not have to equal emotional distancing. Take a moment and read that again. Social distancing DOES NOT HAVE TO equal emotional distancing. If you don't where to start today, consider reaching out to someone and starting a simple conversation. And if you don't feel you have anyone you can reach out to... If you don't know where to start... Reach out to me and I will meet you in the middle of the mayhem and we'll sit together until you feel like you can begin again.  #KeepGoing #BuehlerLIfe

Today has been declared a National Day of Prayer. Maybe y...

Today has been declared a National Day of Prayer. Maybe you pray often and taking time today will be routine for you. Maybe not. Maybe you know exactly what to say. Maybe not. If you are so inclined, would you please pray for our nation today? If you don't know what to say, I'm glad to share my prayer with you.  

Dear Heavenly Father,There is so much going on in the world today that is upsetting and beyond my control. Please help me cast my cares on you today and turn my worry time into prayer time. I ask for your hedge of protection over each and every citizen of our great nation; over their homes, their families, and every other person they come into contact with... extended families, church families, co-workers, caregivers... I ask that you keep us safe and help us guard against panic in the face of adversity. I ask for wisdom and insight into dealing with the troubles we face.I lift up our nation, and every other place on earth that is dealing with this pandemic. Please help those affected and stop this pandemic from worsening. I ask for your hedge of protection over our health and healing. Please pour out your blessings on all who are in need and help us find peace in these trying times.I ask that you be with us and guide us through this uncertain time in our nations history. Turn our hearts towards You and help us be more of every good quality we possess: patience, kindness, loving, graceful, gentleness, generous, caring...I lift up our President and elected officials at every level and all others that are in authority in our nation and in nations around the globe and ask that you guide them as they make decisions. Please make reliable information available to our leaders and guide them to do what is best for those they govern. In Jesus' name. Amen.

Collision...

I have a new house in a new city 600 miles away, but my old life keeps colliding with my new life in the strangest of ways, leaving painful little ripples skating across my heart. I drive a new car yet I see my old van everywhere. I know it’s not my actual van because she now lives at grandma and grandpa’s house. But still, I see the make and model nearly every day and it’s odd because it’s not a common one. In fact, I just saw one for sale on the neighbors drive this morning. Collision. I went to give my address the other day and gave the old one even though I haven’t lived there since late August. Hmm. Must be muscle memory. Collision. It’s already reaching 70° here some afternoons and as I stood staring into my closet yesterday, I couldn’t help but laugh. I spent most of last spring (and a lot of time and resources) building a professional wardrobe for Indiana and none of it, not one piece, has been unpacked because it’s not been needed here. Collision. And it hasn’t escaped my notice that I barely have anything to wear for what is shaping up to be an inferno spring and summer here. Collision. This morning we had our first tornado warning and I was lost as the radio announcer mentioned towns in the path.  “Nine miles away heading Northeast at 45 miles per hour.” I knew that was my direction and I rerouted my path away from errands and toward home but I couldn’t pinpoint any of the small towns he rattled off. Growing up in Indianapolis means I know the city (and many places within the state) like the back of my hand. Here? It feels like it’s just been in the last month that I can get to the gas station without using GPS. If I’m going to survive spring storm season it’s obvious I’m going to have to study the map a bit.  Collision. My husband asked me what I wanted to do for my 50th birthday and without thinking I said I wanted to go to breakfast with my folks then get some friends together for dinner and cards. Then I remembered that I’m not there. I’m here. Collision.
Water drop collisionI enjoyed full days in my old life, working on things I loved with people I valued. And here I am starting over. Collision. Restart. Redo. Rebuild. I never gave much thought to those words but I’m quickly growing to dislike them. None of them ring true to me because they all imply that I can pull off the big RE, that I can somehow recreate what I had and that’s wholly untrue. I can’t build over here what I had over there because I’m missing my people. Collision. At times this new adventure feels forced and hard and quite frankly, it can be scary. The truth is I don’t want to rebuild anything. I liked my old life just fine. Collision.
I have a precious bestie who calls it Fabulous Fifty. Or does she call it Fearless Fifty? I have no doubt fifty will be fearless because this adventure won’t allow for anything less. Sunday is barreling down on me like a runaway freight train and it’s a wicked reminder that the only way through is forward. God is opening doors and placing amazing new people and opportunities in my path and for that I’m extremely grateful. And I’m stepping up with anticipation and hope. But I also have no doubt that fifty won’t be fabulous because of the biggest collision of all--missing so many of you.

A Day of Notes...

I come from a long line of letter writers and one of my most treasured gifts from my Grams is her Bible, which is complete with notes from her sisters tucked into nearly every other page. Grams had such a robust exchange with those she loved and to this day I'm sure that's why I feel there's just something about a handwritten note... 

My Grams and her sisters loved to write to one another. They never let the miles separate them and that was especially true of my great aunt Ruth Mary, who lived in California for many years, and my great aunt Connie, who lived in Greece long before International calling plans were unlimited. 




Imagine my delight when I pulled this out of the mailbox this afternoon. My Aunt Connie is 91 and she is the sharpest, most well educated, independent lady I know. And look at that penmanship! 

I love so many things about her but I adore this the most--now she writes to me. #GramsBestFriend #Tradition

Just A Note...

I dragged my feet about cleaning the kiddos' room after winter break. I don’t mind seeing the bed unmade. It reminds me there was life in his room and I can’t wait until he returns to mess it up all over again this summer. So I waited a couple of days of tidy up.When I finally braved it, I found this notecard sitting neatly tented on the kiddos’ dresser. At first I thought it was a mistake. I’m always on him to do thank you cards and this Christmas was no exception. Had he left one behind by accident? Yes. And no. The card he left behind was for me and it wasn’t by accident. This card is validation that we’ve come through a major transition intact. This card is validation that turning our lives upside down at the worst possible time hasn’t ruined our kiddo. It’s a glimpse into my son’s heart, a view of the past five crazy months from his perspective, and it's exactly what I needed to hear.  #OhSoGrateful  #BuehlerLife

Catch and Release

If you look closely among the everyday items littering our mudroom, you’ll see a pair of well-worn white Vans. They belong to the kiddo and they’ve occupied this house since the Friday after Christmas. For two glorious weeks these walls have been filled with good jokes, junk food, bad YouTube shows and old movies. There have been card games and football games, beat the alarm clock games and Monopoly games. There have been good conversations, funny stories, hard conversations, and laughter and tears and quiet. There was even a night when the kiddo fell asleep on the couch and ended up sharing the dog blanket with the girls. So much for 800 count Egyptian cotton.  It’s just one more way I know he truly is a college kid.
I’ve taken to calling this season catch and release parenting. If we’re lucky enough to catch our son for a few minutes (or a few hours or a few days), to hear us talk you’d think we’d won the lottery because we feel like we have.  But we also know we have to release him. 
Tomorrow is that day.  Slightly before dawn I have to say “until next time” and let my precious boy fly back to his hometown, the city he loves full of his people, his girl, and his school.  My only solace the fact that my mom will pick him up from the airport. She gives great hugs and always has a smile for those she loves.  While she isn’t my stand in, I’m comforted knowing when I can’t be with him, she most often can.
This will be the longest stretch we’ve been apart, from tomorrow until sometime in early March when I visit him on his turf and snag another hug.  Between now and then we’ll rely on FaceTime and phone calls and texting but trust me when I say it won’t be the same as having his shoes in my mudroom.  #BuehlerLife #LastEveOfWinterBreak

Happy, Happy New Year!

Goofy travel buddies (somewhere in middle Tennessee).I was tempted to title this post Happy Holidays given I didn’t touch base in December but you know, I can’t really say that with a full heart.  Our holidays were good, but they were not without issue.  At the end of our week in Indy we tallied visiting a family member in the hospital, Christmas morning in a hotel, and more clock watching and road burn than I can remember in last past 16 years.  Needless to say, on the 11+ hour ride home to Atlanta in heavier than usual holiday traffic, the boys and I had a chance to replay the week as we do every year.  We always talk about what went right (a lot of things, and for that I’m extremely grateful), what went wrong (a few things), and what we’ll change next year (the list grows) and our time together in the car lead to some insightful and spirited discussion.
The Kiddo and the Cutie Bug at New Years Eve b'fast.Instead I’ve gone with Happy, Happy New Year because that’s what we’re enjoying with our son and his sweet girlfriend; all of us back home here in Atlanta, creating new traditions and embracing our new normal.  I can honestly say it’s been a happy, happy new year and as such, I’ve warned the kids I’m not letting them return to Indy when break is over.  It’s been wonderful having them back under our roof and I can’t begin to imagine the quiet that will take their place in a few short days.  Surely stock in Kleenex will be a wise investment decision for us in 2020.
I hope you had an amazing holiday season with those you love and that your start to 2020 is off with a bang.  Here’s wishing us all a very happy, happy new year!

Today's Meltdown...

I’ve stomped around here all week frustrated about decorating for Christmas. “I don’t know how to decorate when I’m only 80% unpacked,” I keep saying. And honestly, it’s been a perfect excuse. But the truth is I’ve been plagued with indecision which is to say I don’t know how to decorate this year. For the first time in 17 years, no one will be at my house for the holidays and while some of you will likely find that thought refreshing, I find it beyond odd. And I find it incredibly sad. It’s my favorite time of year and I’m at a loss.

Sunday afternoon my meltdown was brought to us by the letter A for Advent calendar. As I was pulling things out in an attempt to gather some excitement for decking the halls, it dawned on me that the Advent calendar the kiddo has completed every December since he was big enough to hold the little ornaments won’t be completed this year. Yes, I’ve solved the problem on his end and I’m taking a fun advent calendar for his dorm room but all you mamas out there know exactly what I’m saying. It’s not the same.

Yesterday’s meltdown was brought to us by the letter N for Nativity scene. I no longer have built-ins which means I’ve lost the spot where I display my Nativity scene, a set that’s almost as old as my marriage. My dear friend talked me off the ledge and reminded me that buying a little table would solve the problem and she’s right and I’m working on it. But still, when the realization hit that one of my most treasured Christmas pieces no longer had a home, it wasn’t a pretty scene around here.

Today’s meltdown was brought to us by the letter S for Stockings. I spent years trying to find stocking hangers that were innocuous and between three different Christmas shoppes on opposite coasts, I finally pulled it off a few years ago. Why does it matter? Because I want the decorations on the mantle to be visible, not the stocking holders. I hear you saying I should go buy some 3M command hooks and deal with it and I get it. I really do. But it’s one more thing that’s different and what I’m finding is that a lot of little different things are starting to make a big thing.

Things are just out of place enough that I’m having a hard time getting my arms around it. My head and my heart are at war and my OCD perfectionist tendencies are enjoying robust supporting roles. At this point, I have no idea who’s going to win because the task feels bigger than me. But I have hope because I know getting through this season of a millions differences isn’t bigger than my God. I wonder if he looks down on me in the middle of my tantrums the way I always looked at the kiddo? A little dismayed. A little frustrated. A little sad. And a little determined. Just keeping it real over here. #ATLOTPDay67IsHard  #BuehlerLIfe