Heather Nestleroad's Blog, page 4

I'm Going Deaf?: My Time Living At The Drive Thru

Over twenty years ago I had a brief stint as a Medical Assistant.  I also received a degree in Marketing.  My point being that I did at one point in life receive an education.  I only remember however, how to kiss booboos and have garage sales.  That is how I used my education as a mother.  I remember bits and pieces of abbreviations.  Things like bid=twice a day, tid= three times a day.  Barely anything really but I do recall a bit.  Blood doesn't freak me out but vomit is beyond my skill set as a sympathetic puker.  I am telling you this because in October I acquired a job in a pharmacy and it has become increasingly clearer to me that I was not then nor am I now cut out for the medical profession. 

There are things that I have learned about myself that I didn't realize about myself as an avid reader.  I read quite a bit and it doesn't matter.  Names to drugs should not be twenty seven letters long.  I cannot pronounce half of them.  I am always messing them up.  Because my husband says that I have to sandwich things good bad good or bad good bad. I will say that if you want someone to ring up your purchase without any judgement whatsoever, I am your girl because I have no idea what most things are for either.  I have also learned that apparently I have a hearing problem and I am going blind.  (Stop laughing at me.  I know you are imagining how this goes down and from the outside it probably is pretty funny although not so much to my coworkers. Remember the story from long ago about me in a McDonalds drive thru?) 

Now listen to me.  If you learn nothing else from me in life but this, remember what I am about to tell you.  When working in a drive thru it is extremely difficult to hear with the activity happening inside plus the activity of the busy road and the McDonalds next door and the mowing of the yard and the blowing of the leaves happening.  If you are in the passenger seat talking, I am unlikely to hear half of what you are saying.  Maybe I need hearing aides.  I'm not sure.  I did listen to a lot of big hair bands in the 80's and I did get perms and I did wear parachute pants.  It may be payback for poor style decisions.  Anything is possible here.  All I know is that it is a struggle and the struggle is real.  Added to the fact that I can barely hear and I am attempting to read lips (yes it feels just as creepy to me as it must be for them)to just get through this uncomfortable situation are the accents.  If you have met me you know that I LOVE accents.  I love accents to the point of telling the lady from the dealership with the English accent that she needs to talk to me longer just so I can enjoy the melody of her speech patterns.  I welcome accents in my life, BUT sometimes different accents make it even harder to understand in a drive thru.  I'm not trying to be rude when I ask you to repeat yourself again, I just want to get this right and I honestly am not catching what you are saying with all the other noises happening and my lip reading is still in its beginning stages. A 'P' can sound like a 'T', a 'C'  or even a 'D' in some cases and an 'M' can sound like an 'N'.  The list goes on. (Hmm, perhaps this is why call letters are alpha tango bravo. Also good to know that sometimes it isn't just the person inside that sounds like the teacher from Charlie Brown.)

The blind thing is troubling really.  My glasses were just updated last summer.  Thank heavens I work with a girl who will laugh with me and help me find things that are apparently right there under my nose but I can't find them.  I have said, "I know that I kind of suck at this job.  I don't count fast, I sometimes break the computer or printer (This is a problem really and I may be bad luck because the printer has jammed my last three shifts and apparently this only happens when I am there.  Technology hates me is my only explanation.), and I don't know ANYTHING about a bunch of stuff but I do take pride in my ability to know my alphabet."  I worked in an elementary and math admittedly was not my specialty(although I do know how to count) but reading and writing are my jam so...  I try.  Lord knows I try.  Sometimes I just can't find stuff so I take longer than some.

Another thing that I will tell you is that I do not get paid to say certain things.  Because I like to bring movies in on everything do you remember Pitch Perfect when Fat Amy says, "Not a good enough reason to say the word 'penetrate"?  Well I am with her and on so many other words.  Medication comes with a paper that tells you what it is for.  Please read it.  I don't want to say certain words in mixed company.  I implore you please do not make me say words like erection, lubrication, and prostate.  I can't.  I have sold condoms exactly two times now and I assure you I was more uncomfortable than the customer. (Oh sure tell me I'm almost forty something years old and that I'm ridiculous.  My mother told me about the birds and the bees when I was growing up and all she said was "bees sting and birds poop on cars and those are the facts of life. What do you want from me?  I'm inherently predetermined to not handle these kinds of things well.) At heart I am a shy fourteen year old kid who just happens to look like an adult.  I'm not mature enough to not turn beet red and not die inside if you make me say these things.  If you ask me what certain things are for I am going to open the paper and dance around what it is if it is for any of those things. 

I am the woman who had her husband have "the talk" with her daughters.   I was there for moral support...mostly for them.  I am the woman who is completely comfortable in front of an entire school full of kindergarteners or third graders at recess or in a classroom reading books that have made up words in them.  I am comfortable with belches and farts and even fingernails on a chalkboard don't scare me.  I even got over my fear of getting properly fitted for a bra because I was not comfortable with a stranger seeing me in a bra.  I haven't worn a bikini since I was a teenager except around my own pool behind a privacy fence.  I am comfortable and uncomfortable with probably all the wrong or right things.  It's all on your outlook I suppose.

I tell my coworkers that they may not believe me but I was actually pretty good at my last job.  I feel bad that I don't seem to be picking up on things faster working my fifteen hours a week.  I thought before taking this job that I was a reasonably intelligent person.  These days I'm not so sure.  I prefer to help in life and not hinder.  I do have a willing heart and able hands.  If I am good at anything at all in this new vocation it is that I am pretty good at making conversations with customers.  I am also pretty good at being the comic relief with them.  Trying to use "The Force" to make the register move faster and telling the older gentlemen that the card reader is obviously a woman because she is temperamental and will not be rushed.

I am not sure what the lessons are here.  I have doubts about this entire thing to be honest.  I feel like I may be too old to fully grasp new concepts.  Perhaps others my age are far more brave than I am.  I know people who have gone back to college as adults with children and I am in awe of them.  In my eyes they are some of the bravest people I know.  I couldn't do it.  It isn't in me.  Just getting the computer to print has proven beyond my skill set recently.  (I still say that technology hates me and that is the reasoning behind that because seriously I may not understand spreadsheets but I have printed many times in my life without incident.)  Knowing what I do about myself though, I have a feeling that I am to learn patience.  I cannot possibly imagine why I need to learn this or why God thinks I will grasp the concept of patience this time.  I've been so good at learning it in the past....ok I'm not particularly patient with myself especially.  I want to be good at things I try right away.  I spent some time making jewelry and I do not have my own line.  I wrote two books and I am not a best seller.  To be fair though writing books and selling them are completely different things and I am not a salesman.  While I enjoy sharing thoughts and stories I do not particularly enjoy crowds and being the center of attention.  I like blending in and writing in my pajamas from my living room.  I follow some amazing writers that go live from their living rooms on social media and even that gives me heart palpitations. I'm good with one on one conversations but I am uncomfortable with too many eyes on me.  Clearly I want my cake and I want to eat it too. I just want my cake fat free and without calories. 

I'm a work in progress and progress in slow.  I have a newfound appreciation for what my husband does for a living.  Perhaps if I have learned at least one thing it is that my husband is even more amazing than I imagined him to be for doing what he does for over twenty years.  I've only been a sidekick for almost four months and it is overwhelming me and I'm part time.  He goes in and he's in charge.  It's amazing.  I couldn't do it.  I wouldn't do it.  So patience it is and I'll be learning it between the thermometers and the condoms....

I Wonder How I Can Get Out of This?

Today started off like any other Thursday.  My son had an NJHS meeting and had to be at school early.  I got up put some sweats and a baseball cap on and proceeded to pack his lunch and get him to school.  I then came home had some coffee and cereal and watched a recording on the DVR that I hadn't gotten to yet.  About 9:30 I decided I had better kick it into high gear and start getting ready for my day because today I had a doctor's appointment to prepare for plus I had to get my daughter to her college class by eleven.

I am not a fan of going to the doctor...any doctor but I especially hate going to the lady doctor.  What makes it even worse is when you have to go to ta new doctor and you aren't sure what to expect in terms of how uncomfortable or comfortable they are going to make you.  It is a lot of information to share with anyone much less someone who have seen a total of two times which includes the visit you are at.  Today I was to go to have my annual exam so preparations were to be made.

I started with coloring my hair.  Why it matters that my grey was showing when the majority of this type of visit doesn't include the doctor looking above my waist, I have no idea.  If I learned anything from my late grandmother, it is that you try to look your best when going to the doctor.  I'm not sure why that is a thing but there you have it.  So I colored my hair but this left me running late and I had to shower quickly because I had to drive my daughter to school.  As anyone knows, one must shave on 'lady doctor day' and ordinarily shaving is not necessarily a dangerous activity...an activity that I engage in almost daily in fact since I moved to a warmer climate.  Today however, in my rush to get going I apparently thought shaving meant trying to shred my legs like a head of lettuce and my first thought was "Well, this should make an impression."  Not only am I probably going to let her know of my extreme discomfort at having to be there and how I would really rather have a root canal because at least at the dentist they have a television and they let you have custody of the remote but now I get to explain why my left leg looks like I took a cheese grater to it.  Fun!

I finished my shower and got dressed and took my daughter to school then came home to finish getting ready for my appointment.  I had several thoughts during my prepping....

1.  Whose idea was it that the way to check for this kind of cancer was to use 'the jaws of life and a forearm length cotton swab?  Were there scientists having a conversation that went like "Hey Bob, I think we should use a forearm length cotton swab and a cold metal device because that seems like it would be comfortable for everyone involved."  "Hey you're right Roger!  But you know what would make it even better is if we had a light for our heads.  Like a head-light.  Get it?  A headlight!"  "Genius!"

2.  I wonder if other women pee six times and then have to go again right before the doctor comes in the room?  Does that count as performance anxiety?

3.  I wonder how I can get out of this?  If I sign up for a hysterectomy does that mean I don't have to go to this kind of doctor anymore?  Because that is an elective I could get behind.

I don't know about you but I feel uncomfortable meeting people naked.  Call me a prude but it makes me uncomfortable.  This appointment would be the second time I would have met this woman.  It is an odd way to have a conversation.

So I got all ready for this appointment and drove all the way there and....the door was locked.  I checked my phone, I checked my appointment card because I brought it with me.  No issue there but the door is definitely locked so I knocked.....and I knocked.  Finally someone came to the door and I showed her my appointment care and said I was supposed to have an appointment.  She has me come in and tells me that the doctor is in a meeting and that they need to reschedule.  Apparently they tried to call my cell the day before but they neglected to leave a message and I don't tend to return calls from people I don't recognize the number to.

The good news is that I did get out of it, at least for the day, and now my leg has time to heal a bit.  The bad news is that now I get to go through the process all over again.  I like to think positively though so perhaps she'll have a delivery and I will get out of it again.  One can only hope.

Hurricanes, Whirlwinds, and Tailspins

Hurricanes like tailspins and whirlwinds spin and spin and spin until eventually they just....stop.  As Hurricane Matthew continued its northbound spin leaving destruction and devastation in its wake, I was left to count my blessing and to consider how tailspins and whirlwinds are much like hurricanes of emotional devastation and destruction.  They spin and spin until they stop.

As we were preparing to move almost nine months ago it was a whirlwind of activity.  We had been in our house almost sixteen years.  We knew most in our neighborhood and had many connections in our community.  It took nine months to sell the house but once we did it all happened very fast.  Packing, planning, preparing, and compartmentalizing every detail both physically and emotionally.  An overwhelming whirlwind of activity with not much time to really process.  Until we were finally moved and everything just ...stopped.  Sure we unpacked after living a week in an empty house because we ran into holidays with the moving company but for the most part the spinning just ceased.  Just the five of us in an unfamiliar area with no family, and four busy friends, and none of the comforts of home.  We arrived to an empty house and not a home.

Looking back I think I truly believed it would be this grande adventure.  That it would all be so much fun exploring and learning a new area and all it had to offer and what's more it would be warm.  How much better could it be?  I believed that there was nothing that the five of us couldn't do.  That all we needed was each other. We would grow closer as a family.  I thought all of those things and more.  I thought we would have no trouble finding friends and integrating ourselves because, why wouldn't we?  It's the south.  Southern hospitality rules require people to just bring you into the fold and love you and offer you tea and biscuits or something, don't they?  I thought many things and I thought many things wrong.  We were an island unto ourselves...for weeks that turned to months.  In retrospect you can think of all the ifs and what ifs and buts but time doesn't stop and it doesn't rewind. It doesn't care about your timetable and what and how you think things should be and how things were supposed to go.  The reality is this:  Being the ones that left can be harder than being left behind.

Do not misunderstand me.  I know being left behind.  I know it to the core of my being.  But being the one that left is hard when you realize that perhaps you didn't have as much of an impact as you thought.  Maybe they don't actually miss you now that you are gone when you were sure that the ones you left loved you as you did them.  It is hurtful. It is raw and it is real.  Maybe we had misconceptions about staying in contact with people.  We thought people would call.  We thought we would be overrun with visitors.  We just thought..it would be different.

I love my new home nine months in.  I love my messy disorganized house.  I love that it is warm in October and my pool is still open.  I love that I have found some of the kindest people I have ever met.  I love that since coming here I have become braver than I may have otherwise.  Nine months in and I can find my way around without fear of the traffic that I was once overwhelmed by.  There is never a shortage of things to go see and do but I'm just as content to stay at home.  I'm also not afraid to just walk up and talk to random strangers...ok maybe I wasn't all that afraid of that one before. We have had some grande adventures and for the first few weeks or so we were top notch in the family togetherness realm until our island unto ourselves started feeling too small.

The thing is that while it is hard to make friends as an adult it can be equally as hard as a kid.  My son is the funniest, kindest, most entertaining boy I have ever met.  He's also very calm and laid back.  Perhaps being the youngest in the family he learned early to go with the flow.  Maybe it is a trait that he inherited from his father.  My husband is like that.  His very nature is calming.  I wish I could be like that.  He has made some friends at school but he doesn't have his "crew," his "cast of characters" if you will.  We come from a place where we are used to six boys running in and out of the house and that doesn't happen here.  He misses that but acknowledges now that there are things that he does like about being here.

For the others in my family it hasn't been so easy.  It has seemed that we have been in a tailspin at times.  Not something that we haven't encountered before as it seems with life you will have your share of whirlwinds and tailspins.  It also seems that tailspins like to follow whirlwinds.  Reminders of what we had and what we no longer have tend to do that to you.

I'm not sure how men make friends really.  As a woman I made a lot of friends through my kids at school functions.  Not something that I have been able to do here as my kids are a bit old now for class parties and such.  Men are a different species really in my mind.  My husband had the same friends as he had when growing up with a few others mixed in and a few of those were made through the kids.  What I do know is that men, like women, need people.  They need other guys to unwind with.  To have guy talk and play cards and watch sporting events and whatever else it is that they do.  Finding your people when you word ridiculous hours and even when you are not scheduled to keep things running is hard to do.  It takes its toll.  One I hadn't anticipated paying.

I also didn't count on it being hard for my young adult children to find their people.  In a generation full of people with their heads down looking at screens and no idea how to connect on a human level and I didn't think it would be difficult.  Perhaps as a mother I am blinded by my love for my children and thought that people would flock to befriend them.  The lack of interaction with peers has taken its toll.  Another toll I hadn't counted on paying so highly for.

In life it seems when dreams come true they come at a price and you have to decide if it is worth the price.  Whirlwinds seem to always be followed by tailspins.  We had our whirlwind and we have slowly been entering a tailspin.  It starts slow and picks up steam as time progresses.  It doesn't care that you didn't sign up for the hard.  But getting through the hard I believe is what makes us stronger and makes it all worth it.

I know there will be some who will read this and get it.  They've been there.  Maybe they are still there.  There will be some that will read this and think "I knew it.  I told you so!"  Perhaps they don't know what I know.  Perhaps they never will or maybe they just don't know me....or my family.  Not like I do.  My own family may not even know what I know.  Maybe they have forgotten.  Because what I know is that after every storm comes a rainbow.  I have endured many storms and seen the other side knowing that I didn't get there alone.  I can't get there alone.  I'm broken.  But I've tied a knot in my rope and I'm hanging on tight during this particular storm in this paradise.  I haven't lost all hope.  Those who will question have forgotten that God has said, He knows the plans he has for us.  He didn't bring us down here to fail or fall in despair.  I also know that His plans are better than my own.  The plans I had....  well it hasn't gone exactly like I had planned.  But what has?  In the history of all the plans I have ever made well I don't think anything has gone the way I wanted or planned.

In the molding and shaping of the bundle of brokenness that is me, what can I learn if things always go the way I want them to?  How do I learn to trust?  How do I learn that I can't fix it.  I can't fix anything.  I have control issues.  Odd from an only child, I know.  I have trust issues...OK we can establish here and now that I have many issues.  I get it.  I am not unaware.  I'm a work in progress.  I tend to forget that too.  I want to fix every problem that everyone has here and I can't.  It is breaking me.  I pray for God to fix it.  I fall asleep in exhaustion from running "the complaint department" and not having the answers and not being able to fix it.  I feel like a failure because I can't do it.  Who am I?  I'm the mom.  It's my job to fix it.  If it isn't my job then what is?  I must have some purpose. Am I just supposed to sit and watch as everyone falls apart around me?  It occurs to me that that is exactly what I'm supposed to do because it isn't really MY job.  Not really.  It might just be that just as I have to be broken in order to learn to trust God, my family may also need to learn a lesson as well and instead of trying to fix it I should take a step back and watch God work.  Quite the revelation to have on such little sleep today.

I tossed and turned all night last night.  Perhaps knowing that you will be more forgiving of this post with so little humor and probably many errors that I won't find when rereading.  I once had an editor to keep me in check.  I had dream after dream that didn't make sense to me and at the end of it all I'm wrung out and this is what was left.  I have found my eternal summer paradise but seasons of life still occur.  This particular season feels like a tailspin but like hurricanes they eventually subside and cease their spinning.  My God is stronger than this tailspin and He has great plans at the end of this.  I mean GREAT plans so you should all just get ready for it. We are a pretty scrappy bunch and God is on our side so....we might get knocked down but we will always get back up and keep moving forward.  Hurricanes, whirlwinds, or tailspins....we are getting back up and when we do....
Watch out because I still believe there isn't anything the five of us can't do, I just believe we don't and we won't and we can't do it alone.

A New Job, A New Experience, and More Movie References

This week I received a job offer.  It is interesting the way of the world and how things are done now as opposed to how things were done before.  It is also interesting that I am old enough and make it sound as though I have so much experience in how things were done when in all actuality I have very little experience.  I have interviewed and received jobs before but I have never gotten an offer for a job via email.  Is this what it is like when girls get asked out on dates via text?  Do people really not do things in person anymore?

Anyway....I received my job offer via email and had to accept it or deny it (circle yes if you like me and no if you don't) and then receive further instructions via email as to my next steps.  As I type this it makes it sound like it involves much more intrigue than it actually does.  It sounds like a mystery or perhaps that is only how my mind works?  My next step was to approve a background check then go get a drug test.

I have been a mother for close to twenty one years.  While I have had just a few part time jobs in that time frame I mostly worked for and with people I knew and while I did have to have a background check to work at the schools I do not recall having a drug test.  Point being...I was a newby to the drug test and had no idea how it worked.  I did know I was going to have to pee in a cup but I didn't really understand the gravity of the situation.  I have never been exposed to drugs, I hate the taste of alcohol and even my coffee is decaf.  I showed up with my work out clothes on so I could go to the gym right after.  I had an arm band with my ID and gym membership card and a belt that can only hold my phone around my waist plus my shorts didn't have pockets.

I checked in and when I was called she asked me if I had to go.  I said, "Well... I have to go in the way that I'm old and I usually have to go but I don't have to go like gotta go, gotta go, gotta go right now."  (I do believe it is possible at this point she tried to restrain herself from rolling her eyes) She says, "Well you have to be able to give me this much." and indicates how much with her fingers.  I say, "How big is the container?"  and again she indicates with her fingers and says, "If you can't give a full sample you have to wait around for forty five minutes then try again."  OK now this is when I started to panic.  How does one know for sure how much they are going to produce at any one time?  I remember giving samples when pregnant.  I remember giving samples when I had bladder infections.  I do not remember ever having a quota to fill regarding giving samples.  I am then asked if I want to try or if I want to drink some more water.  Lets be real here for a minute, ok?  I am forty four years old and I have birthed three children via c-section.  Everything I have has fallen or shifted or been moved around and put back in some way from where it once was.  In addition to that I drink a full gallon of water a day so I usually have to go to the bathroom.  I have to go to the bathroom regularly.  Like to the point I think of The Santa Claus movie with Tim Allen and he says, "I shave in the morning and in the afternoon I look like this!"  I go before I leave the house and by the time I drop my son off at school and get to the gym I have to go again.  My ability to go is not in question here.  My ability to produce a sufficient amount that my husband who is waiting to go to the gym with me and would really rather this not take all day is now in question.  The pressure was real.  I chose to drink a bit more water just to be sure.

I chugged water for maybe ten minutes and people started filing into the facility so I figured I had better get a move on and get this over with.  I told her I was ready and was told to go wait in a room and she would be there in a minute.  Had I known the room would be the temperature of a meat locker I could have saved us the trouble of me downing as much water as I could for ten minutes.  I waited....and waited.  Finally she comes in and walks me into a room, tells me to empty my pockets and lock up all of my belongings and bring her the key.  OK???  Is she afraid I will spend time playing 7 Little Words on my phone while I potty?  I cannot very well do that and hold the cup can I?  But whatever... I did as told and I said, "I'm sorry, I'm new and I don't know how all this works."  She says, "You've never had a drug test?"  I said, "Uh no, I've been a bit busy being a mom."  She says, "Well I guess there are people who have never had one."  She gets my information, I sign my life away and am then released to give my sample.  I am proud to say I was able to give my full sample.  I also wasn't allowed to flush or turn on the water to wash my hands until I gave her the sample.  So gross!

I am naive of the ways of the world I suppose.  When I told my husband about it and asked him where on earth on my person would I have been able to bring the pee of another he said, "You'd be surprised.  People do crazy things."  I imagine he has heard his share of stories. Although now that I think of it.  People do do crazy things.  My daughter while working at a fast food restaurant had a guy take a cup for ketchup and pee in it and bring it to the counter and hand it to her and tell her it was his sample for a drug test.  She was so grossed out I think she is only now getting over it.  She washed her hands and sterilized them nonstop for weeks.

I have been very lucky in this life to have worked when I was able and wanted to with some great people and I have been very lucky and blessed to have been able to stay home and raise my family.  I recognize that not everyone is able to do so when they want to.  This hiring process has been different from anything I have ever experienced.  It has made for some good stories though.  I'm excited and nervous and a little bit scared of this new adventure.  I'm hoping to meet some great new people and make some new friends.  My last job was the best job in the world. I'm hoping this next one will at least be in the ball park.  If not the job itself but in the relationships I will have the ability to build while working with new people.  I'm a person who enjoys being around people.  I also enjoy being of help to people.  I am an acquired taste though.  Not everyone speaks fluent sarcasm and not everyone speaks in movie quotes.  We'll see how it goes.  For now I am waiting for my next email for further instruction...I think.  I does sound mysterious to say it that way...very True Lies.  I wonder what adventure I will have next?

The Interview

For the last week or so I have been having an interview....every night.  Perhaps that sounds odd and to be honest it started out that way.  It seems odd to go to bed and every night when you lay down and close your eyes the interview begins.  I suppose I should say that I did have an actual job interview this week so the thought of that coming and then the disappointment of being so stunned at my surroundings during the interview and not being able to think clearly enough to say all I wanted to say has added to my subconscious's way of dealing with that disappointment.  As the nightly interviews began before that I think it has more to do with my perception of my worth.

To say that I have issues would be an understatement.  I teeter between complete disdain and Meghan Trainer's Me Too when thinking of myself.  Mostly I hover closer to the prior than the latter.  My perception of success has been askew.  It has not always been this way...or maybe it has.  Most recently I have been looking for a job.  I've been looking on job finding websites and when I find something that sounds like fun I click to get the details.  As it turns out I do not meet the qualifications for most of the jobs that I find interesting.  Computers will always be my downfall.

When I went for an actual interview this week I didn't get to say all the things I had thought I'd say.  Mostly because I was uncomfortable with my surroundings.  I am not accustomed to being alone in a room with men I do not know.  Honestly, to be fair, I'm not used to being alone in a room with any man aside from my husband.  In general, I'm uncomfortable with men, a trait I'm trying to overcome.  The manner in which I grew up has a lot to do with that.  The programming I received during my formative years has made me leery and distrustful of the male species.  My husband and other male family members such as my son, my father in law, and my late grandfather being the exception.  What I learned from my father is that men leave and I am disposable.  What I learned from my mother's ex-husband was that I was ugly, worthless, and I would never amount to anything.  All things that I know are not true but also things that like to creep in when I'm not paying attention.

So every night I have been interviewing when my eyes close.  I cannot see the interviewer.  I can only hear a voice.  The interview that I imagine starts out the same way every time.  They ask me about my experience.  Much like my actual interview when I explained that I had worked with children in a school and prior to that I had spent eleven years as a stay at home mom raising my children, I get the look.  Perhaps you have seen the look before yourself.  The look that says "Oh so you have not been working.  As if raising three children and taking care of a household is not work.  As if it is just...nothing."  What I am learning during these interviews however, is that it is not nothing.  I may have spent a great majority of my adulthood raising my family and not working outside the home but it has been one of the hardest job that I can imagine one having.

My life experiences have been plenty.  I know what it is to have a child and have no idea what I'm doing.  I know what it is to have two under two and in diapers.  I know what it is to have those same two go through puberty and get introduced to "Aunt Flo" way to early in their young lives and if that doesn't strike fear and make one learn to deal with adversity I don't know what does.  I know what it is to have the surprise baby when you thought you were done and going back to the diaper stage again.  I know what it is to watch a loved one's health decline and stand beside them during their diagnosis.  I know what it is to hold that person's hand and feel the life leave them.  I know what it is to suffer loss.  I know what it is to fall.  I know what it is to fight and claw your way back and then fall again because the promise of a fourth child falls away because that child was so special God needed to keep him for himself.  I know what it is fight my way back again and again.  I know what it is to fail.  I know what it is uproot and start over away from everything and everyone I ever knew and I know the loneliness that can bring to not only yourself but those around you.  I know how to keep a schedule for five people and be responsible for their well-being.  I know a wealth of things.  Things that aren't listed in job descriptions.  Things that make me feel weak to the point of crippling and things that make me strong too.  Things I would like to explain when I get "the look" especially from a man who looks at me like growing a human and giving birth to one is easy even though he cannot do it.

I've had a hard time seeing it.  I have felt like I was failing at the job I've had for nearly twenty one years and even if I'm not and even if I know many things I am still unqualified to work outside of my home because I don't meet the requirements they are looking for.  Many people will say that anyone can have a family.  Teenagers have babies.  Crack addicts have babies.  Having babies for some is easy.  I know many who would give anything for the privilege because they are unable.  They would make wonderful mothers and I pray one day that they will one day become mothers.  It is something that when growing up I never aspired to be.  It wasn't in my plan but it was in God's plan and I am blessed beyond measure to be given the opportunity to be their mother.  During my interview last night I was reminded of a few things.  All of my days were written before I ever came to be.  Nothing I have experienced or am experiencing is a surprise to God.  Also, of all the people that He could have chosen to be the mother to these three children He chose me.  A fact that I should not take lightly.  Why He would choose me for anything I have no idea but what that means is that He thought I was the best one for the job.  He CHOSE me.  I saw saying this week that said " I don't have ducks, I don't even have rows, I have squirrels and they are at a rave."  I'm not sure where it came from originally another author I follow shared it, then I shared it because it was basically describing me.

Every night I interview and every night I learn a little more about who I am and my worth.  But I also am learning that when I interview I already know what I can bring to the table.  What I need to find out is what my potential employer brings.  I want to know what they stand for.  I want to know how they value their employees.  I want to know if they value teamwork.  I want to know if they are open to new ideas.  I want to know if they know who they work for because I already know who I'm working for and it isn't a stuffy CEO in a suit somewhere that has no idea what it is to do the jobs that he oversees.  I work for the CEO of the entire world.  Ultimately He is who I answer to and who I work for so when I come into a job situation I am going to work as though I am working to please Him.  I am going to treat people how I would want to be treated. I am going to treat people as though they are valuable because they are whether they are co-workers or customers or patients or whoever.  God made them and they have value and I want to work for a company that knows that.  I want to work for a company that is more interested in doing the right thing than the bottom line.  I want to work for someone who respects family because my family will always come before any other job I may acquire.

I am learning that I may be interviewing for a job but they are interviewing with me as well because I do have value no matter what my resume might say.  What I lack in experience I make up for in spunk and spunky people get things done.  I'm starting to like these nightly interviews.  I'm learning quite a bit.  I do hope they start getting shorter though as I'd like to get a good nights sleep before my next actual interview which happens to be tomorrow.  We'll see if we pass each other's tests.  

Typical Mornings, Gecko Gate, and How Not to Interview

My morning was a typical one.  Get up throw on gym clothes take kid three to school, come back to the house and get kids one and two, drop kid two off at college and take kid one with me to the gym.  These are not unusual things for us.  We even stopped off at the grocery on the way home from the gym which I like to think makes us look like we put in effort to be healthy but also may be mildly gross.  That two is not unusual.  Today however, I had to get ready for a job interview and while I do not go on job interviews with any sort of regularity I have gotten ready for other occasions.  Even getting ready for the day is a normal sort of thing as contrary to popular belief I do not, nor have I ever, sat at home eating bon bons all day and watched soap operas.  That is not, nor has it ever been, the way I spend my time.
No, today was a first as today was the first time in all 40+ years of my life that I ever went to the restroom to take a shower used the restroom before said shower, stood to flush, looked in the bowl and found a gecko trying to escape.  A GECKO was in the toilet where I just sat!  A LIVING CREATURE near the nether regions.  People a I just cannot even!  I don't even like doctors to be down there.  I avoid going to see the OB/GYN until I get guilted into going.  My heart started racing faster than it did while at the gym.  My vision got a little fuzzy and I could only think two things, First, "If I pass out here I am naked and will my daughter know enough to dress me before she calls for paramedics?  This floor is tile...the floor of death.  EMT's will be involved."  and Second, "Gross!  I don't blame you I'd want out too."  So I did have a bit of restraint to not scream loudly enough to be heard.  I slammed the lid down and I flushed.  Then I flushed again.  Then I peaked to see if it was gone.  It was.  So I may have sent a gecko to the great eternal pool in the sky.  I may have killed one of God's creatures.  In my defense, one of us was going to go down and I had a job interview to get to so....
After what will now be referred to as "Gecko Gate" I prepared for my interview.  I went with a black dress and simple black sandals.  My options were limited and black looks professional, right?  I live in a southern state now.  It may be the first day of fall but it is still in the 90's here.  Not my best plan.  I went to my interview with the company my husband has worked for for 20+ years.  I arrived before the people who were to interview me.  Three men take me through a door in the back that they had to enter a code to enter and up some stairs to a private room.  All I could think about during this journey was, "Ok this isn't creepy at all.  I'm just going into a private locked cave with three men I've never met and there are stairs involved.  Glad I didn't wear heels.  It's fine, I work out now.  That one is small I can probably take him, the other one looks like I will have to fight a little harder but I'm probably faster and the only one I'm really worried about is the kid that looks like a football player that went to school with my daughters.   Nope not worried at all."  We arrived and sat around a table and  well...I talked more about how great my husband is than myself.  This would probably be listed in the "How Not to Interview" handbook that I do not possess.  To be fair it has been a good amount of time since I interviewed but I have never even heard of interviewing in a secret layer surrounded by three men.  Where I am from the doctor doesn't even go into a room without his nurse.  It was a disconcerting and I dealt with the discomfort by doing what I do best...talking to fill the silence as they didn't seem particularly prepared and I also felt safer talking about my husband.  Also I sweat through my black dress.
Today has been an interesting day to say the least.  When I arrived home I had a message from that same company and I have another interview Monday.  Who knows, maybe I will talk my way into a job yet.  I got my very first job because I was persistent and wouldn't leave the manager alone until she was basically forced to hire me to shut me up.  There will be training involved of course, but I did manage to get licensed to sell real estate in two weeks once upon a time.  I also have raised teenagers, and lived through Gecko Gate, I have no fear.  I am strong and I really need a job so I can afford things like fresh fish and Netflix.  

Not Living a Lie

Today is the day.  Today I weighed in at what my Midwest Driver's License said I weighed.  Fun fact #1:  When I went to get said driver's license I gave myself a few pounds "just in case" I put on a few pounds.  At the time I actually weighed a bit less.  Fun fact #2  A driver's license is good for what...six years now?  Fun fact #3:  I had renewed said license on line since that time and when you renew online you don't have a nice lady staring you down when you said "yes everything is correct" you can just click a button thereby allowing you to continue 'living the lie'.  Which really isn't trying to 'live a lie' at all but in fact trying to allow more time to achieve what the license says.  Fun fact #4: In this great southern state that I now reside in they do not ask for your weight and it is not listed anywhere on the license which means...I will never ever 'live a lie' again.  Unless of course, someone asks for my age which is standing firmly at 39 for another six years.

It gets uncomfortable explaining to people that you are still trying to lose the baby weight all the time, really.  They always want to know how old the baby is and then the baby walks up and he's 13 and you are wishing you had a picture of him when he was small so you could pass this giant off as an older brother.  That's about the time the older sisters show up and they are college age and it gets really uncomfortable after that.  

The way I figure it I had three children.  I gained 60 pounds with the first, lets say 40 with the second and 30 with the third.  What?  I'm a slow learner O.K.?  Also I was an only child and Ben and Jerry's were my best friends.  Let's move on shall we?  That is a total of 130 pound that I gained having children alone.  Granted you have the babies and you lose the weight between but...then you are the mom of three children.  You eat when you get a chance.  You shovel down food in between raising kids like it is an Olympic event.  There is no time to sit and enjoy a meal.  Plus if you were raised the way I was back when your parents actually were poor growing up and walked to school uphill in the snow both ways you were taught to clean your plate.  When my mother took ill I cleaned my plate and her plate...sometimes the kids' plates too.  But I digress...I had lost all that weight by the time I got said license the first time around.  I was so pleased with myself and I was never going back.  I felt great!

Days turned to weeks, turned to months, turned to years and I forgot about how great I felt before and remembered how great ice cream tastes...and donuts...and cookies....and...you get the picture.  So I found myself in April almost back to where I started.  I was on three different medicines for my stomach and I had finally gotten over a bought with anemia.  I was tired and I was done.  I was not going to go up another size.  So I took action.

Dave Ramsey once said that you don't ask poor people about money.  I figure that goes for other things as well so I should look for people who are losing weight or have lost weight and are keeping it off.  The thing about being overweight is you don't want advice from skinny people.  Especially skinny people who have always been skinny and eat worse than you do.  So I found someone who was killing it in the losing weight department and asked them how they were doing it.  Once I found out the program (Take Shape For Life) they were doing I got on board.  Essentially I have had to reprogram and look at food in a totally different way.  I have always tended to look at food as comfort or as a reward.  I can get comfort from Jesus.  I can get comfort from my husband.  I can get comfort from a soft blanket.  I can get rewarded in new clothes and shoes that fit and books.  Food is fuel.  Food keeps the body going like gas keeps a car going.  If I want to feel better and look better I need to fuel my body with the right stuff.  You don't put diesel in an unleaded tank.  You get down to the basics and eat like a caveman or a baby really because I eat every 2-3 hours.  I eat more now on this program than I did before.  I'm full.  Sometimes so full I don't want to eat again.  

My family and I also joined the YMCA so we have been exercising as well.  I don't hate it.  I don't love it....but I don't hate it either.  It just is.  BUT....no I weigh what my driver's license once said I weighed and I don't have to take my stomach medicine anymore.  I'm exhausted but mostly because I'm a mom and I'm kinda old.  My body is not accustomed to this kind of torture...er exercise that I have been subjecting it to.  Everything hurts.  I took anatomy and physiology in college and I did not remember that I had so many muscle groups.  I think I blocked that out or assumed that it didn't apply to me.  I cannot keep up with grandmothers and grandfathers at the YMCA.  Seriously, I can't do it.  These people can outrun, out walk, out peddle, out lift, out crunch, out do about everything they have to offer there better than me.  I get tired watching them.  I get everyone is running their own race in life but golly.  God Bless them because I just want to go home and find some Ben Gay and ice something and they are probably going to go play tennis or ride bikes after they are done at the Y.

So here is to not 'living a lie' anymore.  I'm pretty excited/exhausted/sore but maybe just maybe I'll live a little longer to annoy my children.  I have high hopes of one day seeing them have children of their own JUST LIKE THEM.  Until then...it's time for my next feeding.

Focusing on the Left

I lived in the Midwest for the first 43 years of my life.  In that time I never experienced what it was like to have an allergy, seasonal or otherwise.  The closest I ever came was that I would break out a bit when pulling weeds but once inside and washed off with soap and water eventually the redness would go away.  I still have that here in the South but I also have become friends with allergy meds.  I can't breathe.  My face hurts.  I used to break out every time I took a shower from the water.  I had to buy special soap and shampoo and conditioner.  Now it has gone to the eyes.  They itch and sometimes wake me up from the itching.  In particular my right eye....seemingly my more dominant eye as I do everything better on my right side.  I hear better with that ear, I am right handed.  It is annoying.  My eye doctor says my eyes are dry and he gave me some drops.  They do nothing.

I will be honest.  I have been struggling this week.  I am feeling a lack of purpose.  I feel like a sloth.  My husband works, my son has school, and now both girls have started their college classes.  I give rides to school, I do laundry almost every day, I prepare meals and do the shopping.  I understand that those things need to happen but I do not feel I really contribute all that I should.  I miss my work.  I miss the kids and being a part of something....bigger.  I can't have that here.  There are schools, yes, but they are so far different that I'm not sure I would be able to make the connections with people like I did before.  I accept this, it doesn't make it easier, but I get that sacrifices were made by everyone when we chose to move and this was mine.  All of this is making me feel sad this week in particular for some reason.  While I have found friends, I still haven't found my place...my contribution.

Two weeks ago my middle was struggling and was mad and upset and just plain overwhelmed with unknowns.  She is better now.  School has begun and routine has once again taken hold in her life.  She thrives on routine, something that she hasn't had much of since the move.  She said the words, "I have a job, where's yours!" to me and it broke me.  It felt as though she ripped my heart out and thrashed it around like the Hulk tossing around Loki.  It has resonated in the back of my mind ever since.  It has festered and taken hold and I have struggled to let it go.  I'm not upset with her, she has apologized.  No, I'm mad at me for holding onto it.

I have looked online for jobs.  As it turns out there aren't a lot of postings for people like me.  Women who married, had children and stayed home to raise them.  I spent eleven years at home with my children and only really left to go to work at a preschool to give me something to do once my son started school.  My knowledge of computers is limited.  I can Google and I think all computers are touch screens so that gets me into trouble.  I have to get help to figure out how to get music on my computer.  My smart phone is smarter than me.  I don't know what a cache or a ram is and I have no clue how the cloud works or why I have it or even how to access it.  And if all of that doesn't date me or make me seem an unlikely hire for today's workforce, I also need to only work Monday through Friday and I need to work school hours because I still have responsibilities to my family that I love more than anything.

I lack knowledge and know how in a lot of areas.  I have run a household and I have been raising three children.  This is no small fete especially since I have been learning on the job.  I'm an only child.  I had literally no clue what to do with babies when I started.  Now I'm still trying to figure out teenagers and young adults and I'm failing miserably.  I always say something wrong or look at someone wrong or forget stuff.  I'm pretty sure the women I see in line at drop off have their act together.  They also probably don't get excited and start singing along with Rick Springfield in the car during drop off either.  I kind of think that's the point.  No matter who you are or what you know, there are always going to be people out there that are smarter and know more than you do.  It doesn't make you any less.  It just...is.

My right side is dominant.  I was saying earlier today that maybe I'm allergic to the air or maybe God is trying to get me to focus on something with just my left eye which is weird because my right side is dominant.  Writing that or saying it is when it clicked.  I haven't been able to write.  I haven't been able to do much of anything really because I haven't been focusing on the right things.  I've been focusing on what I can't do and not on what I can.  My right side is dominant, but so is my ability to focus on all my negatives, so is my ability to make excuses, and so is my ability to procrastinate.  All the wrong things.  I need to go the other direction.  I need to focus on my left.  I need to pay attention because God has been talking to me for an entire sermon series.  It is OK God knows I'm a slow learner and kind of a prat too.  He loves me anyway and I think He has higher hopes for me than I have for myself.

But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me.  2 Corinthians 12:9  I have to believe that in my weakness here God can use me for something I'm not seeing yet.  I have to believe that the words are coming but I haven't really been listening.  I have to believe I can be of some use and I am actually making a contribution.  My children are a contribution and if that is all I contribute then that has to be enough.  If it isn't then I have to be OK with that too and not keep saying no when asked.  

The truth is I don't know what comes next for me but I do actually have a job here.  I am a mother, I do not bring in an income to help my family but I do work and if I run out of the regular chores and tasks there are plenty more to add in.  Paining needs done, rooms need rearranged and it seems I always have one room that I hate the most no matter where I live.  I just can't get it right.  Also when I shut up the inner voices that like to make me feel less than, it turns out I can get quite a bit of typing done.  God has a lot to say when you turn your voices off and listen to his.  So I'm focusing on the left now.  The right is getting a bit blurry anyway.

Moment by Moment

Do you ever think that dreams are better left as just that....dreams?  I have had a few dreams in my life.  I have had some that were even better than expected and some that seemed even more completely terrifying after they came true.

Seven months after moving far from everything and everyone I have ever know,  I feel settled.  I don't have anxiety attacks when driving down roads that have more cars than I am use to seeing when wanting to go to the grocery.  I've learned that while the big beautiful mall is fun to walk around in, I'm still a Kohl's girl at heart.  I've learned that some things are scarier in my head than they actually are.  The bridge to take to St. Pete is overwhelming but the views are so beautiful it distracts from the fear.

I've learned that God sent people ahead of me to make this transition easier.  When I first wanted to move here at least ten years ago, I wouldn't necessarily have ended up where I did with people who are some of the kindest I've ever met.  I've learned that you can find doctors who are good and not abrupt even in a larger area and that is easier to find than finding a good haircut.

Most importantly though I've learned that even though moving was scary, I have the best people to go through it with.  My family is far from perfect and sometimes we drive each other crazy but at the end of the day they are my favorite humans in all the world.  I can mess up or just be stupid and they will still love me.  I have the best partner in life I could ever dream up.  I've learned that his calm is one of my greatest treasures.  All in all moving has been one of the easier of dreams to follow.

Writing however, has been by far the hardest.  The actual writing process is hard enough but throw in things that you never thought of as possibilities, and there have been points in my journey that have made me think more than once...that keeping that dream a dream may have been a better option.  Two books in and I have spent two years not wanting to pull the trigger to attempt a third.

If you don't try you don't have to fail, right?  I tend to think big in my what ifs.  The big success though is something I only truly think I want to obtain in theory.  As in, "Wouldn't it be cool to be like Adele?"  or "Wouldn't it be cool to be like Jen Hatmaker or Beth Moore?"  In theory, those things sound very cool but actually becoming someone like them requires something that I do not currently possess....Courage.  Well that and an overabundance of talent and sheer determination.  I'm not sure I'm so determined to excel at really anything.  I don't just think big successes either in my what ifs.  I equally thing big failures.  What if I am a no talent hack?  What if I have to speak and I projectile vomit all over the people there to hear me or wet my pants or faint?

Perhaps moving is the extent of bravery and courage I possess.  In moving I didn't go alone and I absolutely know that I don't go alone in any endeavor, God goes with me.  In my humanness I need someone else to go with me too.  That would be the Moses in me. I don't want to go but if I do send someone with me. I am someone who lacks the particular gene that holds any bit of self confidence.  Not a trait I was given in my upbringing.

The pastor at church as been (appropriately) doing a sermon series on courage.  Abraham, Moses, Ruth, Joshua, David, and Daniel.  And he isn't done.  All of these people had struggles and in the end showed great courage.  Abraham was hard to get through, Moses worse, but David about destroyed me.  The struggle in finding my identity continues.  The figuring out of who I am and who I am meant to be seems to be taking longer for me to figure out than most.

Perhaps it is my fault.  By my own admission I have tried to surround myself with friends who are smarter than I am.  People I can learn from and enjoy being around and people who aren't afraid to tell me when I am being an idiot.  Those are the qualities I look for in a friend.  How can you grow if you surround yourself with people who always agree with you?  I have learned from my friends but I think to some extent I want them to figure me out.  Tell me what I am supposed to do.  I am not sure about a lot of things but I am certain that I have a lot of growing to do.  More than most by my estimation.

Mostly I cannot imagine how God could ever use me or why He would ever pick me for anything.  I am quite possibly the most exasperating person I know.  I am much better at believing IN God than I am in BELIEVING God.  I am well acquainted with my faults.  The inventory is long and likes to be acknowledged with regularity.  Old habits die hard don't they?

In church we are learning about courage than comes from God and stays with you for a lifetime.  The thing is...I don't think it is something that one attains all at once.  Or maybe it does and that just hasn't been my experience.  I think it is a moment by moment thing.  I think...and maybe I am off base here, but I think that we have to choose moment by moment what to believe, not only about God but about ourselves too.  Some days are easier than others.  Life is full of decisions.  You make good ones, you make bad ones, but I think maybe not making a decision is worse.  I tend to live there.  On the island of indecision and self doubt and even doubting if God talks to me at all.  Maybe I am just crazy and my what ifs take on a life of their own and I only think God is trying to tell me something.

At this point in my life I am content in my family.  I love our little life with all of our ups and downs.  We have eliminated all semblance of feeling stuck in the same ole same ole.  I stay home and take care of my family now that we have moved just like I did before with the exception being that I no longer have a part time job at a school.

When the first book was coming out I was hoping that it would do well but not too well because I couldn't figure out the logistics of how my family would function if such things as book tours were to arise.  Even now, I'm not sure how that would work.  It isn't that I excel at being a mother.  Probably the opposite as the only thing they really know how to feed themselves are frozen foods, sandwiches and cereal.   I just cannot see how it could work even though two of my children are legal adults now.  How many dreams do we get anyway?  Aren't I too old for dreams now anyway?  Are there age limits to these things?  Are you seeing it?  I am the consummate excuse maker.  The struggle is very real. I fear things that haven't happened, probably wouldn't happen, and likely won't happen.  I'm scared of the parts that I don't want to sign up for.

Moment by moment we decide.  Moment by moment we believe or don't believe.  What if it only took a single moments worth of courage?  What if it only took one moment to become a 'David' or a 'Jonah'?  It essentially did, didn't it?  In my moments, I tend to spent them in the belly of the fish with the Jonahs.  He is not the ideal when it comes to bravery and courage.  The man chose to be thrown over a boat to possibly die in the ocean only to be swallowed by a fish than to go where God told him to go.  I've been there.  That is how my mind works.  If only we could all be David and go with a sling and a stone knowing that God would bring the victory.  Knowing that you wouldn't projectile vomit or pass out or wet yourself in front of a group of people because your fear is so great.

Every Sunday during this series we see the Cowardly Lion in The Wizard of Oz talk about all of the creatures that have courage and what they have that he doesn't have....courage.  We see this then we get the lesson.  I can't help but wonder if that will be my legacy?  Two books in and scared to pull the trigger for number three because of what it might/will mean.  Trilogies.  I'm locked in, all in, with three.  There is no turning back.  I can't take it back and I'm not sure I would want to.  It is a very personal thing to write what I write.

Staying true to who I am, a woman with little to no filter or restraint from keeping things real, I will say that I have stared at this page for the last four hours.  Struggling even to publish a post, something I've done time and time before.  Then one phone call from a friend who says just the right thing...because I have done this before.  How can I fear something that I have done already?  It's like riding a ride and knowing your stomach is going to drop but being surprised when it drops anyway.  So after hours of looking at this rubbish here it goes in 3, 2, 1.....

The Great Escape

Twelve years ago my life was irrevocably altered when my mother passed away from cancer.  Before her diagnosis I was living in the house we had built four years prior.  It was decorated in the style of college dorm meets daycare.  There was crayon on the walls, stickers on the sliding glass doors and Barbie jeeps in the yard.  My son was just a baby and I was enjoying my days of breaking up fights between little girls and gazing at this beautiful son God had blessed us with that wasn't planned but was such a gift to us.  I couldn't get enough of his tiny toes and making him giggle by blowing on his belly.  My mother couldn't believe a boy could be so wonderful having had brothers and I couldn't either having had no experience at all and being an only child.

We had had some struggles but we were finding our stride.  We were watching more and more houses being built in our neighborhood and making some friends in the community.  I had the family I never knew I always wanted and while I was a floundering fish when it came to having all the answers in raising children I couldn't imagine anything could change what we had finally achieved.

I remember the headaches were what started it all.  I remember the rush to the hospital and the look in the doctor's eye when he broke the news that it was cancer and it was advanced to stage 4.  I remember the shift.  The look on my mom's face of total disbelief and shock.  I remember the appointments that followed.  I remember the argument with the doctor over whether she would lose her hair or not.  I remember the yell from the shower when her hair was indeed coming out and that it was a friend that took her to get her first of many wigs.  I remember eggs and how she always wanted eggs after treatments.  I remember the day that I went to her room and she didn't know me, her only child who had been caring for her.  I remember when her mind came back from wherever she had been and her yelling at me because she had missed a party.  I remember the remission and how short it was.  I remember taking her to the doctor and begging him to fix it and him asking me what happened.  I remember saying I needed help.

I remember the nurse visits and July coming and asking if she would make it to my birthday it was only two weeks away.  I remember the hot sunny July 13th that my family spent in our pool and checking to see if my mom would rebound and be able to speak to me....always checking.  I remember being so tired and peeking in on her and she appeared to just be sleeping and my baby was finally asleep and laying down to rest for just a little while.  I remember my mother in law waking me and asking me if I had checked and saying yes she was asleep and her telling me to call the nurse.  I remember staying by her side through the night and watching a lightening show outside the window of her room in my house and for once not being afraid of the storm outside because my fear of what was coming inside the house had already started to take hold.   I remember feeling Jesus at the foot of her bed and looking to see if I could see him and taking her hand and telling her best friend to take her hand because it was coming to an end.  I remember feeling the life leave her body.  I remember calling the nurse and the funeral home coming to take her away.  I remember the next day and the day after that.  I remember the funeral and coming home and falling to the floor surrounded by funeral flowers and that is when I checked out.

I went through the motions for two years and then with God's help I checked back into my life.  I couldn't escape the pain and loss and I couldn't hide from life any more.  I started making jewelry, I got involved in MOPS and later helped at preschool.  Time started to move quickly but would slow down every year in July.  I started writing this blog before I really understood the purpose of it.  In the writing I found healing.  July being the crux of it all.  I'm not sure if it would have been easier if it hadn't all happened literally right before my birthday or not or if she had passed in a hospital.  Those are questions I will have when I meet Jesus face to face.

I moved 1100 miles away from everything I've ever known.  I moved for several reasons but it didn't escape my notice that it was the ultimate escape from every reminder that I could possibly encounter.  That's the thing about grief really, it has a way of finding you no matter how far you run.  July 13th and 14th will come every year no matter what until Jesus returns.  This year I sit under an outdoor fan and my view is of a pool with the difference being there is a palm tree just beyond it.  My great escape.  I regret not one bit of this escape to my version of paradise.  Not how difficult it was to get a drivers license, not how scary the roads can be, not even knowing exactly seven people in all of the state.  My great escape wasn't really about running away this time.  It was about running to a possibility.  An idea that life could be more than what I had made it no matter how comfortable I finally became with it all.  A what if....God has more for me than what I've allowed myself.  A separation from the comfortable and predictable and an idea that the fear had had its hold on me for too long.

I remember all of it 12 years later.  Grief finds you but it doesn't have to disable you like it did me for far too long.  I miss my mom every day.  I miss arguing with her, shopping with her, eating with her, talking to her on the phone.  I miss her calling me 'Heth' and asking me 'what do you want to do next kong?'  I miss that to her my birthday was a big deal and the one time that I was sure I wasn't a mistake.  No one else can do that for you but your mom.  I have no one left from my side of the family that calls to check in.  I am blessed that God had that covered with the husband and kids and in laws that he gave me to do that.  So yes, I'm still sad and I still kind of hate July.  This year though I'm counting my blessings and watching the wind blow the palm tree and saving my tears for later and not allowing them to take over.  This great escape has more to offer.