A little sunshine

             I love those almost-spring, sunny days, the ones that give you a glimmer of hope after the long winter. Spring is not my favorite season, but I still love it. I love all the seasons – and I’m happy I live in a place where we can experience them all. The reason spring isn’t my favorite is because it always makes me just a little sad. I am reminded of the things I used to do, like playing softball and taking long, brisk walks. I can still walk, but honestly, not as easily as I used to. People with fibromyalgia often talk about their “pre-fibro life,” before they were always tired and always in pain. I try not to dwell on it, but spring reminds me.

            I love my childhood memories of springtime. Winters in Wilbur are a bit longer than in the Tri-Cities. The spring flowers don’t bloom as early, but they last longer. The poor lilacs in my Kennewick yard barely have time to be appreciated before they begin to turn brown and die. I miss the lilacs in Wilbur.

        When I was a kid, I loved when we could “spring forward” and start playing outside in the evenings before dinner. I can still smell my mom’s cooking, wafting through the open kitchen window as I made my way home from the schoolyard in time for dinner. I was lucky.

          As a young mom I loved being outside with my kids, waiting in the yard as they rode their bikes around the block. I miss those times with my kids. I miss having a ‘family.’ Now it is just my husband and I, the cat and the dog. I love them all, but I miss the activity of having kids around.

Sunshine is always good, whether it is reminding you of the past, or filling you up with the promise of new days. I’ll take it.

           

            

Money

The Green Stuff

$

               I’ve been thinking about money. I read an article yesterday about how the language we speak has a correlation to the way we save (or don’t save) money. Because the English language has clear differences in how people talk about the past, present and future; the future is so distant in our minds that we don’t save as much as we could. In some other languages, Chinese for example, time is not spoken of in the same manner. In Chinese, the future doesn’t seem far away and people are more likely to save money for those up and coming rainy days.

                  I don’t remember, but I’ve been told, that when I was very young our family was poor. My dad hunted and we ate a lot of venison. I don’t remember not having everything that I needed. We lived in a tiny house, but I was small, so it never seemed cramped to me. My mom sewed most of my dresses – and I loved them! My dad was a logger. As I got older his business got better. When I was 8 years old we moved to a big red house. I guess we had more money then, but I don’t remember it as being any different. I had always been happy.

                  I got married when I was a few days short of turning 19. My husband was a laborer. I had my first child when I was 20, and my second when I was 23. We were poor, but I was happy. My kids were happy. My marriage didn’t last, but it had nothing to do with money. My husband was an alcoholic. Yes, there were times when buying beer was an issue. I was not a drinker, so being forced to buy beer every time I went to the grocery store was embarrassing for me. I guess the fact that my husband put his alcohol consumption ahead of what we needed for our kids was a factor, but mostly it was the dysfunction in our daily lives that drove me to file for a divorce.

                  As a single mom, I was still poor; but I was happy. My kids were okay and we had a decent life. It was never easy, but we had what we needed and we found joy in little things – mostly each other. I worked hard and my kids grew up and left home. I was still living paycheck to paycheck. I wonder why, when I needed less, I felt that I needed more. It was probably because I was alone. I was not really happy.

                  Eventually I remarried the wonderful man that I had dated for almost 10 years. The first year of our marriage was sort of a breeze, financially. We had a double-income and, while we weren’t rich, we could do what we wanted and still have money left at the end of a paycheck. But as they say, all good things must come to an end. I lost my job shortly before my first wedding anniversary. It was okay for a while, because I had unemployment. My marriage was happy, but I was not. I didn’t know what to do without my job – I was lost. After 8 months of looking for a job, I decided to go to college. Last October my unemployment ran out. 

                  So, once again, as has been so often throughout my life, money is an issue. We live paycheck to paycheck and can’t do the little extra things we have come to enjoy. We are lucky though; we have enough to get by. My husband got a little overtime last week and brought home a bigger paycheck. I know he felt really good about it, because he has been upset about not having enough lately. It is hard for us – he feels like he can’t provide enough, and I feel like I’m not contributing. This morning I paid bills and the bigger check is not going to go as far as we’d like. I feel guilty for paying the bills, but that is what has to come first.

                  I know things will get better eventually. I will be finished with college in less than a month and I hope to find a job right away. I’ve started looking, and it seems pretty bleak. I am not looking forward to the search, which I’m sure will bring many days of frustration and tears. This is going to be hard, but I can do it.

                  I can’t help wondering – should I learn to speak Chinese?

Just wondering.

The header on my blog says that I've always heard that people want to know, and be known. For me, I guess that it means that I want people to know what I'm about ~ to understand me. Why, I wonder? Does that mean that I find myself so interesting or special? For some reason I have been contemplating this all afternoon.

 The question surfaced as I was listening to music and paying attention to the lyrics. I always find myself wondering what the artist was going through when they wrote the song. I want to know the stories behind the lyrics. I think that if I were to write songs, they would be entirely literal, no questions or intrigue, possibly...uninteresting. I don't know.

I'm realizing that not all people want to be known so intimately; they are what we call 'private.' Well, actually, maybe they just have a smaller base of people they let get close to them.  I also realize that there aren't that many people who want to know me, or at least, all of the things that I want people to know. Why do I always have this urge to share? Do I share too much?

I'm kind of questioning the point of my blog. I thought I wrote because I wanted to leave something of myself behind for my kids, or for others who might want to remember me someday when I am gone. I also know that there are times when I only write for myself, and times when I write for school - because I have to. So, why is important to put it all out on the World Wide Web? Does it really matter?

 I am not writing this with any expectation of answers. I know the answers are only what I can decide for myself anyway. Whether I continue to post here is not going to make a difference in the world, but it could make a difference in my life.

To Anna and Noah

To Anna and Noah,

           

I will always think of you as my babies, but I will try not to treat you as such. When your hearts break, so will mine, because once, yours beat so faintly inside of me. When you cry, I will cry.  When you laugh, I will laugh. I will support your every endeavor, even if I am not sure of your choices. When you are happy, I will be happy. I will try not to worry in advance about the next time you will be sad!

Because I am your mother, and I will always think about you more than you think I should. I will agonize over your challenges, but trust you to work them out. I will offer my opinions, when they are not wanted or needed, as that will always be in my life’s job description. I appreciate you for not letting me know you are mad at me, even though I know you sometimes are. I accept that you might not take my advice, and I love you for listening. I know that I annoy you sometimes, but that you will always love me, and my quirky ways.

God gave you to me, but you are not ‘mine’ to keep. I have had to let you go, to let you grow, to watch you fail and to watch you succeed. I have had to do a lot of that watching, from what I think is far too great a distance. I will always be proud of you, but I will not take credit for myself.

I will miss when we aren’t together and love you no matter what.  Forgive me for those times when I am too pushy or opinionated, or when I want more of your time than you are able to give. Thank you for always making me feel special for just being your mom. You are such wonderful grown ups and I am so lucky to have you both in my life.

With all my love,

Mom

My boy hit with words.

Do you remember the wading pool?

We spent the morning waiting for the sun to warm it up.

…and you and I were never cool.

Remember how pissed off we were when Jonathon beat you up.

beat you up, violin case to the gut,

beat you up, beat you up,

his mom said, “Your boy hits with words.”

 This is one of the first songs my daughter wrote. Someone reviewed it and said it might have been the next great hit, if only it were more than a mere minute long.It may be a short song, but it is a big memory for all of us. It is called, “The Noah Song.”

            I was reminded of it in class a couple weeks ago when a classmate told a story about her young son being bullied. This song is about my son being bullied. Noah was a very small, skinny boy. To make matters worse, he was awkward and shy and played the cello. He used to ask me why I couldn’t have given him a cool name, like Steve. Kids always asked him where his ark was. Many times I told him about Noah and the ark, and that he should be proud of his name.

            Kids like Jonathon make life hard for boys like Noah. Jonathon was a big boy, and strong. He constantly picked on Noah. After he shoved his violin case in Noah’s gut I decided to try to talk to his mother. It did little good, as you can deduce by her response to me. She also spoke very little English, so I wasn’t able to make her understand with my words. I had to walk away knowing that I hadn’t accomplished anything to help my boy.

            Bullying is a problem. It leads to other things. I am lucky that it only lead my son into joining the military, instead of using drugs or alcohol. I guess you could say he used violence – but it was ordered. I wasn’t happy when Noah joined the Marines, but looking back now I can see that it was the best choice for him at the time. He’s okay now, and for that I am so very thankful.

            Being picked on by Jonathon had an impact on Noah, but as you can tell by the song, it also had an impact on Anna. She wrote the song about the incident at least 7 years after it had happened. Now it is something we will never forget, because it is attached to a catchy little tune. I think that is what is called taking lemons and making lemonade.

Gift from the Sea - book review

I had to read a book and write a review for my human relations class.

Gift from the Sea

Anne Morrow Lindbergh

Delicate, beautiful, graceful – these are just a few words that come to mind when I think of seashells. While I have always admired seashells, it never would have occurred to me to write a book comparing shells to different stages of human relationships. That is exactly what Anne Morrow Lindberg did. The book, “Gift from the Sea” was first published in 1955. The descriptions of women’s lives might be a little outdated, but the concepts used to describe relationships are timeless.

            The book was conceived and written while the author was on a peaceful vacation by herself on Captiva Island, on Florida’s Gulf Coast. She began writing as a way of clarifying her own thoughts on a pattern of living for herself. I love the opening paragraph in which she comes to the realization that we are all under an illusion that our experiences are very different from other people’s.  As a person who loves to write, I have also come to that conclusion when I begin writing something with the belief that it is a unique feeling or thought and then slowly recognize that others can identify with me.

            By the time they are washed up on the shore, seashells can seem quite fragile. But people need to consider what the shells have already endured, living in the sea, being tossed around by the waves and victimized by other sea creatures. Now there are many other adjectives that come to mind to describe them – strong, stable and often, literally full of life. The excitement of finding an undamaged seashell explains to me why they could be considered ‘gifts’ from the sea.

            Writing this book, Mrs. Lindbergh found her inspiration in the seashells she collected during her walks on the shore. The first one is small and simple, and was once the home of a whelk. This is a shell one can choose, but eventually abandon when choices bring with them more complications. Next is the moon shell, which seems to represent solitude. This shell reminds us that we all need some solitude in our daily lives. This is a concept that many women have a hard time with – as they strive to fill every minute with tasks or entertainment. I know a lot of people who are not comfortable with being alone. Perhaps they should examine a moon shell and contemplate its simple beauty. Anne Morrow Lindbergh took each shell home with her, as a reminder. Of the moon shell she had this to say. “You will remind me that a woman must be still as the axis of a wheel in the midst of her activities; that she must be the pioneer in achieving this stillness, not only for her own salvation, but for the salvation of family life, of society, perhaps even of our civilization.”

            The third shell the author used is the double sunrise shell, which she describes as “two flawless halves bound together with a single hinge, meeting each other at every point…” This chapter was my favorite, and the one I identified most closely with.  I know in my own seashell searches it is rare that I find both sides of a shell that are still connected. The “hinges” get broken or worn away. This is the way I see relationships. It reminds me that we are all individuals and the things that hold us together must be cherished and taken care of. Every human relationship is temporary, fleeting.  Every relationship has to endure changes and life stages.

            The oyster shell is used in the book as a depiction of the middle years of marriage. The author talks about how the oyster has small shells clinging to its back, and compares it to couples in the growing years of marriage, struggling to achieve a place in the world.

            The last shell in the book is the one of the Argonauta. The Argonauta is not attached to its shell, but free to float away and start another life, much the way we, as humans have to come of age on our own. There are others to help us along the way, but the choices and decisions are ours to make.

            Haven’t we all collected shells from the beach? There is something about them that draws us in. We know they are special without thinking about why. We keep them until they break or we outgrow them. We do the same thing with the people we meet, the friends we collect as we struggle to find our way each day. As we grow and change we find that we need to leave some things, and often, some people, behind us. Reading this book helped me to see that this is just the way life is and it isn’t something I have to be constantly sad about. I loved this book and I know I will read it several more times. I need the reminders in my life – because I’m not always good about letting things go.  “Gift from the Sea” had me searching old boxes for my own forgotten shells. I now have them where I can see and appreciate them. My reasons for enjoying them have been forever altered by the words of Anne Morrow Lindbergh. I wish I could buy a copy of this book for all of the people who will be forever in my life, and also for those who are just passing through.