my observations as I sit among women

Kazzy 8 comments

my observations as I sit among women

My eighty-something year old neighbor opens her Etienne Aigner purse and puts some church announcement sheets in there, making a little noise as she does so. She wears a scarf around her neck and has her cane propped against her chair. She is steady and strong.

The woman sitting to my left holds her grandson on her lap, assuring me that she has let him skip going to nursery because he is in strong need of a nap. Sure enough, within two minutes he is out cold, his little sweaty blond head bobbing around as he tries to settle in to those comfy arms.

To the far side of the room is an older woman who is gentle and kind. After we lost our little Olive in March this friend told me that she lost three babies at the same point in her pregnancies. Her eyes were shiny that day as she connected with me in this experience. I respect her. And an added bonus, she has never once colored her hair, which is still a beautiful auburn.

At the podium up front stands my friend who sometimes gets self-conscious when she is in front of people. She mumbles a little as she starts, and then she talks to us about the lost being found. About individual struggles. About being committed to gospel things.

And I sit here and realize that I/we are doing the best we can. Some are still rocking babies. Some are mourning. Some are tired out tending to family members who are demanding.

Some are lost.

And some are found.

 

my own

Kazzy 8 comments

my own

I have been doing a lot of driving lately.  Up and back to drop my son off at work, and then, on some days when my husband can't make it, up and back again to get him a few hours later (the price of sharing 2 cars between the 3 of us).  I also take my youngest to his cello lessons each Monday afternoon.  Like the great mom I am I wave goodbye when he goes in and flip the switch on my nice electric seat and lean back for a little snooze.  Or sometimes I use the half hour to catch up on some church emails or even call my mom or sister.  Time well-spent, even though I watch the other moms go in and out of the teacher's house with their own children/students.  

During these past 3 weeks of intense chauffeuring I have come to appreciate my one-on-one time with that particular passenger I might be transporting.  Also, the alone time on the one-way is not so bad.  Sometimes I pray.  Or I sing.  Really loud.  Or I just think.

I like myself more in my 40s than I did in my 30s.  I can be alone and be totally satisfied.  But at the same time, I appreciate family and good friends now more than ever.  

I am coming into my own.

lessons from the passenger seat

Kazzy 11 comments

lessons from the passenger seat

When my husband found this old photo this week I was immediately transported back nearly 20 years. Back when there were only four of us. Back when these boys did whatever I asked.

We have done maybe 8 cross-country trips in these last 20 years, and we keep learning a lot of things every time we do. And our numbers have changed too. Our first trip was when we drove from VA to LA to start grad school in '89. There were just three of us then, and I would turn around and feed jarred plums and apricots to my nine-month old.

Through the years we added 3 more sons and a couple of dogs to our passenger list. Lots of visits to historical sites. Lots of eating on the road. Audio books. Jokes. Even arguments.

But through it all I learned a lot about my family. I learned how healthy it is to explore new things together. I learned that #4 will eat a burger with everything on it (thatta boy), and that #2 talks in his sleep (got that from his mama). I learned that Geo needs a little reassurance as we head east that he will still be important to me as I stay up until 2am laughing with my sister or reminiscing with my parents about growing up in the Huck Finn place that was my home town.

When I look at that photo of my little guys in the tall grass I think, Many things ahead, my sons. Many things.

my power

Kazzy 11 comments

my power

I remember when I learned about the power of the first-born.  

We were sitting in the back seat of the car during a night drive, my two younger brothers and I, and I looked over at them right when some head lights hit my face just right.  My brothers scooted closer to each other and shivered with fear as they saw my big dark eyes glaring at them. Unintentional scariness, of course.  Once I figured out that without a word I could wield that kind of power, I found ways to use it to playfully (honestly) intimidate them.  But after a while I came to learn that I was really just kind of scaring myself.  There is a real "thing" about a first-born, whether it is the stereotypical charismatic leader, or someone who does it more subtly.

I like, but don't need, to be in control.  I am a problem-solver.  In a small group I am comfortable leading out.  I can do that.  Not necessarily bossy, but firm and confident enough.  I admit that the challenge I like best is charming people into trusting me.  Not in a slimy salesperson kind of way, but in a public relations kind of way.

This has been a real benefit in my profession, where parents have to trust my judgment.  They need to like me enough to believe me.  And they need to look at my eyes, when the head lights are hitting them just right, and choose to trust me rather than to be scared.  It is a good kind of pressure that I want to measure up to.  It allows me to satisfy my first-born tendencies and help these little kiddos at the same time.  Awesome combo (honestly).

interlocking circles

Kazzy 14 comments

interlocking circles

It has been a smorgasbord of feelings this month as our family has been in recovery, and then, at almost whiplash speed, in celebration mode.

Thursday our son came home from Mexico, where he had served a mission for two years for our church.  He is handsome and obedient and humble, and all-around a joy.  We are complete again, at least for awhile, and it feels dang good to have us all in one place.

Our family, my in-laws, and the couple that baptized me 29 years ago (to the right)

Gideon, Adam, and me

In front of our home

Benny Knudsen, Gideon, Adam, me, and Willa Knudsen

Tomorrow is my birthday and I find myself thinking about my own personal progress.

What are some spiritual goals I have accomplished, and what do I still want to get done?  
What are some physical goals I have met, and what do I still need to do?
And so on, and so on...

I was watching a show last night where a couple had to go into the witness protection.  The husband was fine with it, but the wife about lost her mind at the prospect.  Starting over, with no opportunity to maintain past relationships.  Can you imagine?  My friends spent a lot time during this past month building an incredibly strong safety net for me to fall into.  Eyes closed and swollen with crying.  Arms folded in prayer.  Throat seized up with stress.  Now I am coming out of the net, but I certainly would not want to leave these people, whether in my physical neighborhood or my virtual one.  Ever.

Now we look forward with faith, and we are ready to move ahead.  Life is a collection of little circles.  Concentric and interlocking.

I talk to myself while I sweat

Kazzy 11 comments

I talk to myself while I sweat

 

I sure do. When I am sweating up a storm at Zumba I have a little conversation in my head which goes a little something like this:

You can do this. Push. Push. You will NOT be another 50-yr old in a mumu!

And as much as that helps me push through a work out, it also helps me push through life. We need to get uncomfortable and be willing to go to our own limits if we want to see how much we are capable of.

 

That might be related to our physical strength. That might be related to our emotional strength. Our spiritual strength.

 

As much as I hear my own voice when I exercise, the opposite is also true. I sometimes exercise in my own mind when I need that strength. I visualize myself with free weights or climbing the bleachers or sweating it out to some Pitbull.

 

It gives me two ways to get through hard things.

I choose my own voice, or I choose my own movement. Either way, I am my very own middle-aged cheerleader. I know what I know. I know my body. I know my spirit. And I know that when the two are working together I am a more resilient person.

 

 

cinching things up

Kazzy 25 comments

cinching things up

 

Sometimes, most times, it takes two to figure things out. We bounce ideas off of each other. We check in with each other to make sure our most extreme selves are put into check. We balance and balance again.

When I came home on Tuesday there were books on my porch from a good friend. A couple of children's books and a book for me. Beautiful verse. Beautiful imagery. Beautiful moment. I came into my room and cried. A little at first, and then a whole bunch. It felt so good. That was one of my recent moments.

A couple of times since, Geo has had his moments. See, we believe in the promise of Easter, but we are still a little sad because we will have a bit of a wait until we see our little Olive again. But we figure things out together.

We talk without words more often lately. We know what the other person is thinking. We know we can't always solve things. We also know that we are being helpful when we just hold hands or maybe sigh together as we sit on the couch in the quiet evening.

Eternity seems like something you will think about tomorrow until you are forced to think about it today. I hash it out in prayer and in conversation and in unspoken ways, and then I cinch it all up by immersing myself in what matters most.

Still working on it.

Still working at it.